Mermaid Effect

Kansas, USA

Route 54

Jim Brothers Repair Station [Deprecated]

It was a not-so-pleasant evening.

Not only because of the bombing that happened in the urban area during the day, but also because of the sudden rain that night.

Raindrops poured down from the dark night sky along with the strong wind, as if an invisible monster above the sky was opening its jaws to drip its saliva into this world. Route 54 is close to a semi-abandoned state, and few cars are willing to drive on this old road built in the 80s with potholes.The municipality also didn't care much about the drainage around the road, and the heavy rain quickly led to waterlogging on the roadbed.

And at night like this, even the stagnant water is black, as pitch black as the Styx flowing from hell.

The dilapidated signboard of "Brothers Jim's Repair Station" hangs between two rusted railings. What makes people feel uncomfortable is that above the dilapidated signboard, a row of brand-new colored lights are shining brightly and vividly in the thick rain. A vulgar yellow-green glow.

A used Nissan Toyota wobbled down the potholed lane in front of the pits and ended up under the sign.

The car door opened and a man's shoe thumped into the standing water.They were a good pair of shoes, but they were worn out and almost broke in two. Perhaps because of this, the owner of the shoes didn't make any sound of annoyance even though almost the entire instep was submerged in stagnant water.

Step by step, he pulled out the soles of his shoes from the mud with difficulty, and then walked heavily towards the place where the light was on.

The strong wind was blowing the crumbling house, and there was often a tooth-stinging sound of rubbing between the iron sheets because of the agitation of the wind.Around the house, the shade of trees bobbed up and down like ghosts.

He walked down the hallway to the back of the maintenance station, and slammed the door open.

Inside the pits is a hazy atmosphere, reeking of marijuana alcohol and urine.

Compared with the cold and humid air outside, the air here is as warm as hot milk.

However, the moment the man walked in, the noise and music in the air stopped abruptly, leaving only the sound of the water droplets on the man's body falling on the dry ground.

"Hey, Mick? How's it going, is everything going well?"

A bearded man in the room put down the beer in his hand after a brief silence, and staggered towards that person.He was terribly thin and walked with a limp.

Mick Brewster pulled off his raincoat, and he pushed the man who walked into him to the ground.

"How about me? Damn, you dare to ask me how?"

Mick threw the raincoat on the ground and growled angrily at them.

"You tell me it's just a dead rat! But it's a fucking bomb! A bomb! God, I blew up a whole building!"

There was no trace of blood on his face, and his muscles were twisted and trembling due to excessive tension.

……

"Oh, you wouldn't dare send it in without telling you it was a dead mouse, Mick." Another person in the room stood up, an old man with gray hair and a coat full of A greasy replica military uniform, his mouth is sunken in, like he's always smiling.

"We're also doing it for your own good. You know, if it wasn't for our deception, you would never have the courage to take real revenge on that person."

said the old man.

On the dusty wall behind him hangs a huge banner.

It was "Xia Qiu" written in weird Chinese.

The man who sold them the banner told them it meant "revenge" in Japanese, and in the middle of the banner, a photo of Rand Sievers was printed, smeared with red paint, and held in place by a dagger. There.

This is a club organized by the victims of the "Lilith" case.

16 years ago, Lena Makinson committed dozens of shocking murders while kidnapping Rand Sievers, and these cases involved not only the dead, but also countless people who were related to the dead. people... family, friends, lovers...

Time has healed the wounds of many people, but there are also some people who are still immersed in that great pain.

Mick Brewster was one of them.

A few years ago, he was absorbed into this organization called "Revenge".Some of them lost their daughter's family, some lost their soon-to-be-married lovers, and some had psychological shadows simply because of the bloodshed... But they all have one thing in common, that is, they all firmly believe in He believes that Rand Sievers should pay the price for the murder that year.

They managed to get some tapes of the victims before they were murdered, where the child who watched the horrific sadism with a blank face, Rand Sievers, is the only person still alive today, his " Cold-blooded" and numbness completely angered this group of people.

Year after year, day after day, they gathered in this small repair shop, thinking and discussing how to make Rand Seavers pay.

Most of the time, however, their efforts were in vain, and sometimes they didn't even know where he was—until Mick Brewster met Rand at a pet shelter not too long ago.

They discussed many plans, a lot, and finally Mick was persuaded by them (after all, he was the most injured one in it, a real victim), and his companions managed to convince him to send a dead mouse to the Into the workplace of Rand Sievers to intimidate.

However, Mick didn't know that the dead mouse was finally replaced by a bomb by his companions.

"Rand Sievers is not dead at all!"

Mick yelled at the group of people in collapse.

"How could you do this to me? Now everyone thinks it was a terrorist attack, and they will find me..."

His companions were not as worried as he thought.

"Hey, don't worry so much, man, if you put on enough disguise, no one will notice you."

Someone comforted him lightly, with no sincerity in his tone.

Mick looked at the group of people in front of him tremblingly, his head began to ache violently, and an emotion that was about to explode swelled in his chest.

"You bastards, you've already planned—ahhhhh—"

He screamed and rushed towards the crowd, but the next second he was kicked hard in the stomach and rolled straight to the door.

"If you did kill Rand Sievers, we might still have a little respect for you, but Mick you can't fucking do anything, we even gave you a bomb and you still put everything Fuck it, you actually came here to lose your temper with us at this time?"

The old man sneered at him with crooked lips.

"You might as well eat shit!"

He said.

Mick curled up in pain, his tears and snot came out, and he began to cry bitterly.

"You ruined everything about me, you ruined everything about me..."

He repeated the words mechanically.

Until another voice interrupted him softly.

"Aha, yeah, sometimes your life just gets messed up by some crap."

Mick's body stiffened for a moment, and he turned his head slowly, seeing a pair of high heels, a pair of thighs in python-print leggings, and a tall man with strawberry hair and a smiling face.

"Whoa-"

On the other side, someone pushed away the table and stood up vigilantly.

"You, who are you?"

They didn't even know when this strange young demon started to stand in that corner.

"Well, it's hard to say who I am. Look, I'm actually here to work... to solve your life's troubles, probably like this."

Rogers pulled out a menthol cigarette and lit it.

His pants were grabbed.

Mick looked at him with tears in his face, and said tremblingly: "You have a way to kill them, right? I, I can pay..."

As a former tragedy survivor, Mick felt the danger emanating from Rogers faster than anyone else present, but he obviously misunderstood the meaning of what Rogers said before.

He thought Rogers might be a killer.

Oh yes, Rogers is indeed a killer.

So the next second, Rogers gave him a friendly smile, then he raised his foot and stepped hard on Mick's head.

Accompanied by a moist piercing sound, Mick made a short and rapid breath from his throat.His cheekbones were broken, and profuse blood gushed from his eye sockets and nostrils.

When Rogers lifted his foot and pulled out the sharp heel of his high heel, a large bloody hole appeared in Mick's temple, and blood was gushing out.

The unlucky man died soon after.

"Come on, God..."

Others in the room expressed a moment of horror at the sudden death.

They all backed away, their faces full of fear...and confusion.

Obviously, they don't understand what's going on here at all.

Rogers couldn't help sighing at the stupidity.

He flicked the menthol smoke in his mouth, and put on special black gloves for himself. There were thin and transparent silk threads pulled out by him at the wrist.

"Let's put it this way," he blinked at the group of people, "I need to help my friend solve some problems, um, media problems, so I need a bigger news...you say, a How about a murder and dismemberment case in the suburbs? I quite like the idea."