[Comprehensive Yingmei] Genius Lianmeng

Chapter 32 The Game of Genius

Watson's well-trained eyes, which are good at detecting danger, caught two extremely blurred arms in the sticky and thick white mist like infinite stretches of spider silk—not so much that he could make out the outline of the arms. , it is better to say that I have accepted the feeling of the arm.

The moment Watson strangled little Jim's neck, along with the smoke coming from nowhere, two arms controlled the captive's hands almost instantly.

Serious, nonchalant, but not muffled, gritty and gritty, not Batman-proof that Clark was in on this big sports center pool night.

Watson silently praised his growing ability of reasoning and deduction, which was infected by cohabitants. At least only two steps of reasoning were needed, and he was almost able to do it once or twice occasionally.

"WOW~brilliant!" If it weren't for Watson tiptoeing and strangling little Jim (every man in London seems to be taller than him, Whatthef^uck), he would be convinced of this consulting criminal who regards playing cards according to common sense as the enemy of life , I’m sure you’ll jump three feet high, throw down your westwood custom-made suit to dance a hula dance, and it’s also reasonable to give a wet and sticky kiss by the way, “Your appearance is so cool, little Bruce, I’m very surprised , unexpected, dramatic, indeed my cup of tea! I don't blame Sherlock for ignoring me because he invited you!" Little Jim didn't behave like a victim whose life was in someone else's hands ( Watson didn't expect him to behave in a normal way), on the contrary, Bruce's behavior seemed to trigger a switch, which made the world's only consulting criminal excited and eager to try.

Poor Watson's scalp was numb from the high-pitched tone ahead.

"Help me take off this tasteful coat decorated with bombs, Sherlock." He extended his free arm to his roommate. "Thank you."

"Why are you not afraid of other people's gossip this time? I took off your clothes by the misty swimming pool or something." If Watson heard correctly, there was a barely audible implication in the dull and frustrated voice of the cohabitant There was a hint of a smile.

"You know the real life of real people!" Watson opened his eyes wide - the white mist cut off his senses like a veil, "You know too much, Sherlock." He felt the same as "a few hours ago accidentally Roommates who, by chance, by mistake, kissed together" had difficulty talking about the subject, so Watson turned to Bruce.

"I know you don't kill people, Bruce, not killing people is your bottom line and last umbrella, but I don't mind this, I really don't mind-especially when facing a guy who will bring death and terror at any time. You don't want to get dirty Your hand, it doesn't matter, then let me do it, I am a soldier, a fighter, and I have the obligation to walk through the moths of society in times of crisis. And I can no longer tolerate a bomb-loving singer staring at him and seeing Sherlock as a thorn in his side , a thorn in the flesh, and the person I like." The soldier with a sense of justice max said without hesitation, "I don't want a long-legged spider to lurk in the center of the London criminal network with its octopus spread out, and use his long-legged spider in a Westwood With his claws, he plucked the sticky spider silk, monitored 221B's whereabouts, and tried to drag Sherlock to hell with him."

"I knew, with your IQ, you can't appreciate elegant games." Little Jim said as if singing.

"That's right, just as I can't appreciate the violence, threats, intimidation and death inflicted on innocent people." When Watson threw these words on Little Jim's young and bright face, he found Xia Xia Locke put his thick, steady hands on his tense shoulders.

Bruce isn't wearing typical Batman gear, the thick white mist being his hood and cape.He quietly hid, his bulging muscles were full of tension.

The Night Knight, who has nothing to worry about except refusing to kill, said coldly, "The white mist won't dissipate for a while, Bomber. I don't know how long you're going to delay, but I What is certain is that I am very familiar with pain, and I don’t mind sharing my experience with you.” The words were dispersed in the mist one by one, and Bruce’s hand gradually strengthened—he clasped the little finger of the consulting criminal, and on the human hand where it is most vulnerable.

"No...not a bad technique, dear Brucey..." Little Jim's voice trembled, but he became more and more excited, as if he was involved in a grand choke^play.

Usually in this situation, just keep smiling, a proper Bruce Wayne smile, even if the white, silky mist hides all expression.

Little Jim was still chattering stubbornly in the pain that was close to joy: "Come on, do whatever you want to me, treat me as you want... But you have to think about it, Brucey baby, Your cute little blue-eyed pet... a little slow..."

Watson froze silently. He became a computer with poor cooling and overloaded with too many programs.His composure and composure slipped between some frantic flitting thoughts, and he fell hard.

Then, he let his composure and stability slide further and further away, unable to stand up, and made a gesture of holding his forehead in his imagination, and the violent Teddy was jumping around in his mind, jumping wildly: Clark Kent !How can you be like the heroine of the American blockbuster, waiting to be caught, detained, and rescued every time!You are superman!You are fucking Superman!You are the son of steel who can fly, and you are the mighty Kryptonian!It shouldn't be your task to rescue the heroine, who shines brightly! ! !Fucking Superman waits for Batman to rescue every time, what do you mean? !

"Sure enough, you can't have too high expectations for a useless reporter with a dodge value of 0." Bruce complained calmly, and the strength in his hand only paused for half a second.

The dodge value is 0, sir, you have the truth to some extent--

"But, Clark..." He lost his superpowers, became an ordinary person, and fell into the hands of criminals with live ammunition...

"Our little reporter who has no power to restrain a chicken and has to be tied like a chicken will be fine, John, don't forget that I have a lot of records." Bruce's shining eyes didn't even blink, his head There was not even the slightest waver, "The smoke that protects us is disappearing, apparently by the Bombardier's men, John, carry out Plan C..."

The red laser of the sniper rifle aimed at them from all directions.

Damn it!He is not always preparing countless contingency plans, and in a critical situation, he can analyze the pros and cons of each plan and straighten out the Batman, fuck plan C.

He only had time to throw Sherlock to the ground, using his short body and limbs to protect the vital parts of his cohabitant.

And Watson's own head, neck and back were completely exposed to the sniper's gunpoint.

The author has something to say: the blood tank is empty...

Ten centimeters superman~

Thank you [Blue Fish] for another landmine~ It means being loved and full of energy~

Authors are all eager for mines and comments, the most important reason is not points, but a kind of recognized satisfaction from it.This feeling is the motivation to support non-full-time writers to persevere.

If you see some cute articles that poke yourself are very cold, then don't carelessly use your little attention to love this author~ What you water may not only be a pit, maybe a forest of the future.

(Covering your face is so literary and fresh, it must not be Xiaofeng's words...)