Wine and Gun

A sane person would point out the madness in it, but Albarino would not, because it is in this quality that Herstal is beautiful; it is as if tragedy is of course beautiful, and ugliness is also beautiful The other embodiment is the same, and there is no contradiction in the middle.

For a while, many thoughts flew through his mind like birds, and his hands were still cutting the adhesions between tissues steadily and neatly, those yellow-colored fat layers, and lifted the skin on the body of the deceased. Let the bones and internal organs bào exposed.

Then he began to cut open the dead man's ribs one by one with the pliers, making a crisp sound with each stroke. It would have been easier to do this with a sternal retractor, but he consciously slowed down, which seemed to give himself time to think.

It was at moments like this that he heard Tommy ask in confusion, "Did you expect something like this to happen?"

"What kind of thing?" Albarino asked rhetorically, with a force on his hand, the instrument made a clicking sound, and blood and bone foam splashed out.

"Mr. Armalette will do something that challenges the moral bottom line of most people? Even, the crime he chose to defend seems to be a certainty?" Tommy asked.

He still looked uneasy, and Albarino could understand why he thought so. Many people as forensic doctors have some ideals of avenging the dead. In most cases, there's nothing wrong with that.

Albarino lowered his head and stretched his hand between the exposed internal organs of the deceased, and the white ribs looked like strange horns. Holding the heart of the deceased, he pulled the organ out with a slight force on his hand, cut off the other sticky parts with a knife, and put it into a stainless steel tray. He looked down at the dark organ, which carried far more meaning in human society than its actual function.

Then he said in that languid, airy voice: "There are always plenty of holes in the law."

"But the human heart is not." Tommy replied stubbornly, clasping his hands in front of his chest in a somewhat defensive posture.

"That's it," Albarino said as he cut open the heart, "so he's going to lose a lot of people because of that choice."

Tommy asked, "Including you?"

"The right heart is congested, it is suspected that it is mechanical asphyxia, and more signs are needed to confirm." Albarino did not answer the question of the trainee forensic doctor, but said this.

Tommy looked at the heart he had cut open. A drop of blood that had not yet coagulated dripped down the blade of the scalpel. The dismembered body contained more organs and exuded a strong rotten smell. Like neatly arranged fruit.

"Look, Tommy, the human body is so fragile, and death is much easier than we think." Albarino surveyed the organs thoughtfully, and said softly, "But I don't think death itself is the most important, the important thing is When and how it came."

Tommy frowned slowly, clearly not getting what he meant.

"So what you want to ask me is, does his choice touch my moral bottom line? Will I stop loving him because of it?" Albarino raised his head to look at Tommy, the blade was still pressed on the heart, the corner of his mouth Then he gently sketched an arc of a smile, "No, Tommy. The heart is not the most important thing, the most important thing is the final choice."

After thinking about it, Hunters went around to the nearest welfare home near WLPD.

With the help of his friend in the police station, he learned that the children kidnapped by Slade are now placed in the welfare home, and it is also convenient for frequent inquiries and professional psychiatrist treatment. Those among them who can find their family members are rushing to Westland, and those who can't find their family members for the time being can only live nearby.

Logically speaking, what Hunter needs to do now has come to an end. Instead of running around dragging his aching arm, he should stay at home and wait for the next bonus from the police. But he thought about it, and he cared a little anyway - when a pretty blond boy stabbed a thug in front of you with a knife, you couldn't care less.

He swears that he walked around to the door of the orphanage when he was going to the supermarket to refill his own refrigerator, and at first he really just wanted to go through the closed gate to see if the kids were all right— But it was better to come early than coincidence. As soon as he stood still in front of the gate of the orphanage, he saw a fluffy golden head appearing on the corner of the side.

The head looked familiar, and Hunter must have seen the owner of the head stab someone in the carotid artery last night. He was speechless, and the golden head also saw him, scolded something in a low voice, and shrugged back from the wall.

A few seconds later, the young man cautiously poked his head out of the wall, his eyes swept from his hanging arm to his face, and said in an unbelievable tone, "You were the one who was killed in front of me last night. The uncle who was knocked over with a shot?"

...how this doesn't sound like a good word.

"With all due respect," Hunter said firmly to him, "Anyone who gets shot like that will be knocked over."

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