Chapter 393 [The tip of the iceberg that hides the background] is over!
Chapter 393 [The tip of the iceberg hiding the background] The third update is completed!
When the sun was about to set over the hill, the bustling city of London was bustling with traffic.
"Nigger, do you think the head of the traffic decision-maker here has been squeezed by the *** gate?" Sitting in the passenger seat on the left side of the car, Chekov, wearing a trench coat, held a cigar and pointed at
asked the black driver.
Chekov's driver was a black man who was born in a country in Africa that is constantly at war. He killed his first person at the age of six, joined the rebel army at the age of seven, and became the most terrifying executioner in the hands of the rebel leader at the age of sixteen.
When he was eight years old, Chekov exchanged a bunch of weapons from the hands of the rebel leader and became Chekov's personal bodyguard and driver.
At the age of twenty, under Chekov's instructions, he engaged in a life-and-death struggle with Chen Fan.
As a result, it only took Chen Fan ten seconds to put him into shock.
From then on, he who never smiled would show a faint smile every time he saw Chen Fan.
At this time, hearing Chekov's endless cursing, the nigger knew that Chekov was complaining about the traffic rules in Britain and that cars were very different from those in other countries.
"Boss, if you feel that the policies he has made make you angry, I can take you to point a gun at his head tonight and ask him to change his policies." The nigger said calmly.
"Ah ha, that's a good idea." Chekov laughed, then shook his head and said, "But I'm afraid it won't work tonight. I have to do something according to the butcher's instructions."
Butcher.
Hearing these two words, a look of awe flashed in the nigger's eyes.
Half an hour later, the sun set completely over the mountain, the sky became dark, and the neon lights on both sides of the street lit up.
The nigger drove Chekov to the door of a villa in a famous wealthy area of London.
"Boss, there are three groups of hidden bodyguards near this villa. There are one group of exposed bodyguards at the gate and at the main building entrance." Parking the car at the door of the villa, the nigger said calmly: "Besides,
There are a total of 18 probes on the wall, main entrance and main building entrance, covering the entire villa without any blind spots."
"Nigger, I swear to God, there is no better bodyguard in this world than you!" Chekov sighed sincerely after hearing the nigger's words.
The nigger shook his head: "Yes."
"Oh, God, I actually forgot about the butcher." Chekov patted his forehead.
The nigger had long been accustomed to Chekov's weird personality and behavior, and was not surprised. Instead, he asked calmly: "They have paid attention to us. In five seconds, they will come to us. How should we get in?"
Do you want to force your way in?"
"No, no, nigger, don't mess around. This is not a place for messing around. Damn it, this is the residence of the Foreign Minister of the Council of the European Union!" Chekov quickly put out the cigarette butt, shook his head, and said: "Get out of the car, boss.
I'll take you in."
With that said, Chekov took the initiative to open the car door, stepped out of the car, and, accompanied by the nigger, walked towards the four heavily armed bodyguards.
"Chekhov?" When the four bodyguards saw Russia's top arms tycoon stepping out of the car, their expressions changed slightly.
"Ah ha, you bastards, you actually recognize me, Uncle Chekov?" Chekov chuckled and greeted him: "Tell that old guy Kasev that I want to see him!"
"Damn it, Chekov, you wretch, I'll give you three seconds, get out of here immediately!" The leading bodyguard was once a British spy chief and knew Chekov's identity very well.
"Oh, you bastard, how dare you talk to your uncle Chekov like that?" Chekov said with a sinister smile: "You will regret it, I swear, you humble wretch!"
After the words fell, just when the agent leader was about to pick up Chekov like a chicken, the nigger remained indifferent and waited for Chekov's order.
"Impulse is the devil, don't be impulsive, dear." Chekov was not afraid at all. He slowly took out a golden card from his arms and said with a bright smile: "Give this card to Kessev
That old immortal guy. Well, he will meet me soon!"
Chekhov's arrogant words sounded in his ears again, and the face of the agent leader suddenly changed drastically!
"What? Poor poor thing, are you scared?" Chekov laughed and took out a Cuban cigar. The nigger helped him light it knowingly, while the agent leader walked aside and radioed to
What is the bodyguard inside the villa reporting?
"Dear Mr. Chekov, please." Half a minute later, the agent leader, who received the instructions, respectfully walked to Chekov and made a gesture of invitation.
"You humble wretch, you should have been like this before."
Faced with the change in attitude of the bodyguard leader, Chekov smiled sinisterly and pressed the lit cigar on the bodyguard leader's face. The smell of barbecue suddenly filled the air, and the bodyguard leader did not dare to move.
.
"Aha, you are indeed a wretch!" Seeing the cigar extinguished, Chekov stuffed the cigar into the mouth of the bodyguard leader, and then swaggeringly led the nigger into a building that was said to be more difficult to enter than the residence of the British Prime Minister.
villa.
A minute later, Chekov saw a fat old man in the hall of the main building of the villa.
The old man was wearing pajamas and sitting on the sofa. There was no bodyguard standing behind him. He was the only one in the entire hall.
Under the light, his brows were tightly knitted together, his expression was extremely solemn, and he didn't know what he was thinking in his heart.
Seeing Chekov entering the hall alone, he quickly adjusted his mood and turned his attention to Chekov.
"Ah ha, dear Mr. Kasev, don't you welcome me at all?" Chekov laughed and sat across from Kasev casually, as if he were at home, and poured it for himself.
A glass of red wine, held in hand, with a contented expression on his face.
Faced with all this, Kesev's eye muscles trembled slightly, resisting the urge to kick Chekov out of the villa, and asked gloomily: "Why do you have that card?"
"What do you think?" Chekov gently sipped the red wine and asked with a smile.
"The butcher gave it to you?" Kaisef's expression was solemn and his tone was complex.
"Dear Mr. Kasev, I think even a pig can think of this!" Chekov sneered.
"Is he in trouble?" Kasev understood Chekov's intention.
"You can say that." Chekov said solemnly: "He needs you to do something for him, um, a trivial thing. Presumably, you won't refuse, right?"
"What's the matter?" Kaisef frowned even more tightly.
"Hey! Kasev, I didn't expect that you are also an ungrateful bastard." Chekov put down the wine glass, leaned forward, and said coldly: "Should I suggest that the butcher come and twist off your head?"
"You..." Kaisef's face changed drastically, and a trace of anger flashed in his eyes, mixed with a trace of gratitude and fear.
"Well, dear Mr. Kessef, I smelled the scent of a well-known French brand of perfume in the hall. I guess you want to play some exciting games tonight, so I won't disturb your enjoyment.
." Chekov said with a sinister smile: "The Butcher will arrive in London at noon tomorrow. He asked me to tell you that at the right time, you need to go to Knar Castle."
"good."
Kasef slowly uttered the word "good" and his brows twisted into the shape of the Chinese character "Chuan".
"Dear Mr. Kasev, relax, the butcher is just letting you go to make the dream of old Edward who has always wanted to lick your feet come true. There is no other meaning." Chekov said in a deep voice, and then stood up directly: "
I brought the words with you. Whether you go or not is up to you. Goodbye."
With that said, Chekov didn't wait for Kesev to reply, stood up directly, shook his body and left.
Kaisef's eyes flickered, and he didn't know what he was thinking.
…
A few minutes later, the nigger drove the car again and took Chekov away from this villa with an S-level defense level.
"Boss, where are we going now?" the nigger asked in a deep voice while concentrating on driving.
Chekov habitually lit a cigar and said: "Go to Lille Farm in south London."
"Are you looking for Hellfire?" The nigger was no stranger to that place. He had been there twice with Chekov before and knew that it was the underground base of Hellfire in the UK, one of the top three mercenary organizations in the underground world.
"That's right, that idiot Kuka said he prepared an Indian girl for me. I want to go greet that woman." Chekov said with a lewd smile: "Of course, the most important thing is,
I'm going to deliver the butcher's message."
An hour later, Lear Farm, south London.
The nigger drove the car through two levels of hidden posts and arrived at the house in the middle of the farm.
What greeted Chekov was a woman with an icy aura all over her body.
"Ah ha, hell snake, we meet again, do you miss Uncle Chekov?" Facing the woman who exuded a cold aura, Chekov teased her with a lewd smile.
The woman's expression changed, and a hint of murderous intent flashed in her eyes.
Then, her eyes fell on the ghost-like black man again, and her murderous intention suddenly dissipated.
"Chekhov, I'm warning you for the last time, if your mouth is as dirty as eating feces again, I will kill you!" the woman nicknamed Hell Snake said coldly.
Chekov laughed, not caring at all, and followed the hell snake into the room.
Entering the room, Hell Snake took out a small instrument and pressed it lightly. The ground suddenly opened and an elevator slowly rose.
Later, Chekov took the black ghost and followed the hell snake in the elevator to the hall of the underground base.
In the hall, a bald man has been waiting for a long time.
"Dear Kuka, I swear to God, I miss you as deep as the water of the Amazon River." Chekov laughed and walked forward: "Where is my Indian ***?"
"Damn it, Chekov, where was the last time you promised to provide me with the latest sniper rifle developed by the United States?" Kuka said coldly: "You have deceived me three times!"
"Oh, didn't God tell you that the fire market in the United States is very tense recently?" Chekov didn't care at all about the bald man's anger: "Don't be impatient, dear Kuka, those weapons you want
, you will get it in a month at most. Well, before that, I think it would be better if you hand over the Indian *** to me first."
"Damn, I really want to blow your head off!" Kuka said angrily: "Since you can't provide weapons now, why are you coming to me?"
"Help people spread the word." Chekov said with a smile.
"Send a message?" The bald man was slightly startled.
"Well, the butcher asked me to tell you that he needs you to do something for him." When Chekov got down to business, his tone became extremely serious.
Butcher?!
Hearing these two words in shock, the bald man's pupils suddenly dilated, his whole body became extremely stiff, and he subconsciously said: "Has he returned to the underground world?"
"Yes, Britain will be very lively these days." Chekov said with expectation: "The underground world that has been silent for a long time should also be boiling!"
***: Three updates of 10,000 words completed!
It broke out for two consecutive days, ***, is there anything else??
