13:20 P

New York, Social and Cultural Council.

The cold wind is biting, gray clouds hang high over the city, and the icy air of February shrouds the entire city in chill.

The headquarters building of the Social and Cultural Council stands at the intersection of West 42nd Street and 10th Avenue. This building, which blends modern and classical architectural styles, is like the central pearl of the theater district. The facade of the building is made of glass and metal, shining with light.

Understated yet luxurious shine.

The surrounding theaters and cultural institutions seemed a little deserted in the cold winter wind, but the building was still busy, welcoming visitors and officials from all walks of life.

On the top floor of this building, in a classically decorated director's office, Adelaide Kurd, director of the Social and Cultural Committee, was enjoying a luxurious lunch.

His fat body almost occupied the exquisite mahogany chair, with a typical bureaucrat's greasy smile on his face.

He stretched out his handkerchief and elegantly wiped the corners of his mouth stained by the sumptuous lunch, his fingers as thick as sausages.

This elegant behavior appeared on him and looked extremely funny.

The tableware on the fat director's table was arranged meticulously. The plate presented was a delicate foie gras with truffle sauce, dotted with tender seared scallops and fresh white truffles;

Drinking a glass of excellent vintage Bordeaux red wine, the glass is crystal clear, the wine is slowly swaying in the glass, exuding a mellow fruit aroma; the dessert is a Michelin-level chocolate lava cake, sprinkled with gold foil on the surface, burnt on the outside and soft on the inside.

Slightly steaming, waiting for the final taste.

While the obese Kurd was immersed in this luxurious lunch, an ancient telephone in the corner of the office suddenly rang.

The retro shape of the telephone blends seamlessly with the classical decoration of this office, but it conveys an ominous feeling in this luxurious space.

The fat director frowned slightly, a series of specific numbers flashed on the steampunk-style special channel prompt list, and he recalled in his mind the people behind this series of numbers.

Bieber from Wandman Newspaper Agency...

This reporter from the Emperor Penguin faction who came from Antarctica is one of his royal pen holders.

He called me at this time. I really didn’t have the foresight. Doesn’t he know that I don’t like to be interrupted while dining?

Although unpleasant thoughts flashed through his heart, he still chose to answer it.

With a click, the fat-headed director slowly pressed the answer button with his greasy fingers.

He leaned on the chair, his fat body sunk deeply into the leather chair cushion, and there was a trace of impatience in his eyes.

"Bibli, it's not time to pay wages yet."

A sneer appeared at the corner of his mouth, and his tone was mocking and vaguely threatening, "As a political reporter from the Wand Man, don't keep talking to me when you have nothing to do. People from the National Security and New Alliance are watching..."

Before he finished speaking, there was a rude interruption from the other end of the phone.

Kurd's words were stuck in his throat, and before he could react, the other party had already started outputting:

"Director, don't mention your trivial matter to me! The riot in the square is out of control, and the most important thing is-the adult from Hell's Kitchen has appeared! Do you know what that means?"

Then, the other end of the phone directly told the Fat Director all the information about the riots in the square, including the violent suppression of the mind suckers by the special agent Mole of the Administration, and the appearance of the adult from Hell's Kitchen at the scene of the suppression.

Finally, the other end of the phone continued to add coldly:

"In addition, all my people have applied for special leave this week. Please don't contact me again in the future!"

Kurd wanted to say something else, but the other party had no patience and hung up the phone directly. A rapid busy tone came from the phone.

Didi didi~~

His fat face suddenly became extremely ugly, and the hand holding the phone trembled slightly.

He was stunned for a moment, and then slammed the microphone in his hand back to its original position. The rough movement caused the phone to make a muffled sound.

"Who does this damn penguin think he is talking to!" Kurd was furious and cursed in a low voice, his face turning red.

"You bastard, you bastard Bibley! Who do you think has facilitated your promotion from a wand reporter to a reporter over the years?! Who put you in this ungrateful place from the Snowy Island of Antarctica?

You got rid of the rubbish and supported you all the way to the position of 'special correspondent'?!"

His eyes were full of anger, and the fat on his face kept shaking as he roared, his voice getting louder and louder.

"Without me! You will never see the beast master that your faction worships for the rest of your life!!!"

The angry Kurd tightly grasped the chair handle with both hands, feeling that he had been publicly humiliated.

While the obese director Adelaide Kurd was still cursing Biberly angrily, the phone rang urgently again. The ringing echoed in the office with a harsh sense of urgency.

Kurd glanced at the flashing code on the phone irritably. This time it was different from the last media harassment. The number was a familiar specific channel.

He squinted his eyes, stretched out his fat fingers to the microphone again, and when he grabbed it, a fierce light flashed in his eyes.

"Say." His tone was cold, like an enraged predator.

A hoarse voice came from the other end of the phone. The voice was cold, mechanical, without any emotion, like a well-trained killer making a routine report:

"Mary Collins is dead. The people who freed Hoofbeat did it."

Kurd's expression froze for a moment, but he did not interrupt and continued to listen.

"Collins was assassinated on her way back to her office after attending a press conference on enhancing security for infected people participating in competitions. Members of Liberation Hooves disguised themselves as reporters, approached her and detonated a small explosion hidden in the camera.

Device.”

The voice coming from the microphone was still terrifyingly calm:

"Collins was killed on the spot, and the entourage was also seriously injured. As for her security - the two financial beasts [Heart-J] and [Diamond-K], were not activated for some reason. Now, the liberation hoof

made a public statement, saying that Collins was a symbol of using the law to oppress infected people, and that what they did was an act of justice, vowing to end the vicious cycle of the horse racing system. They also declared through public screens that they would completely destroy the entire system. Currently,

The Triple Crown Kentucky Derby has been canceled."

This chapter is not over yet, please click on the next page to continue reading! Kurd's face was extremely gloomy, and he listened silently.

The [Heart-J] and [Diamond-K] mentioned by the other party are powerful and terrifying financial beasts in the financial field of the new world. The security failure of the two is not an accident, but an extremely rare abnormal event.

Behind this, there is obviously more than just the attack of Liberation Hooves.

After a moment, he responded coldly:

"knew."

The obese director took a heavy breath, clutched the phone receiver tightly with his fingers, his joints made a faint creaking sound, and his eyes flashed with uncontrollable murderous intent.

It was a kind of calm before the storm. He looked like a ferocious beast about to jump out of the cage and bite all the prey in front of him.

The report on the other end of the phone continued, and this report completely made Kurd's expression distorted.

"We recently found Mikhail himself at the Mobile Ark Hotel, and he was with Miss Lydia..."

Bang--

Before the other party finished speaking, a loud bang shook the entire office. Kurd's fist hit the table hard, and the entire exquisite mahogany desk shook and almost cracked.

Kurd's face changed suddenly, veins popped out on his plump cheeks, his eyes were like burning flames, and the whole person looked like an enraged beast at this moment.

His voice roared, full of hysterical rage:

"No matter what method you use, just cut that damn infected person into pieces! I want him to disappear completely!"

He was breathing heavily, and so much rage was pouring out of his chest that it seemed that even the person on the other end of the phone line could feel his violent breath.

He gritted his teeth and his tone became more fierce:

"As for Lydia, bring it back to me immediately! Don't worry about her feelings! She actually defied me for those dirty bastards. Does she know everything I have done for her?"

"I am her father, she owes me everything! It's not that I owe her everything!!!"

The person on the other end of the phone simply responded:

"yes."

Then, the person on the other end quickly hung up the phone.

The busy signal on the phone echoed in the room again, Adelaide's face was ashen, and the fierce light in his eyes remained.

His breathing was heavy, and his hands were tightly gripping the edge of the table, his nails almost digging into the wood.

Anger burned in his chest like a ball of fire, burning him to the point of almost losing his mind.

Dong dong dong——

Just then, there was a knock on the door outside the office, interrupting his thoughts.

He was startled, his eyes fixed on the direction of the door.

Come again!!!

Damn it, what a fucking day it is today, it’s endless, isn’t it!?

Everything that happened today challenged his patience.

Problems come one after another.

Outside the door, the secretary cautiously said with a slightly fearful voice:

"Director, Mr. Abraham of the Administration..."

Bang——

Before he finished speaking, Kurd suddenly stood up, his fat body made a muffled sound, and the chair was pushed to the ground.
To be continued...