Chapter 203 3, Bar

Before the words fell, there was another loud explosion in the distance, mixed with the sound of violent gunshots and firefights. The soldiers stopped talking, raised their weapons and began to shoot at the darkness, as if they were attacking an invisible giant beast.

"Get up, hurry up!"

Hoffa kicked Noble anxiously and held out his hand.

"Apparition."

"damn it"

Noble hurriedly got up from the ground and grabbed Hoffa's wrist.

The sky was illuminated by fire again. Noble didn't hesitate, he grabbed Hoffa's wrist with his backhand.

crackle!

With a bang, the two disappeared in place.

A group of soldiers were left behind holding their guns and shooting into the darkness, the orange bullets were like countless bright yellow lightning, flying in the air.

urban area. Noble tugged Hoffa back from the apparition. At this moment, air defense sirens filled the streets of Paris.

Pedestrians fled in all directions, and a lot of trampled fruits and vegetables were scattered on the street. Some of the horses tied to the posts roared desperately because they were frightened.

Soldiers in the streets and alleys jumped into their jeeps one after another. More than a dozen military jeeps galloped across the street with their dazzling spotlights, kicking up large clouds of dust.

"Let's go! Hurry up!"

Noble urged ahead.

Hoffa hurriedly caught up with Norber who had almost disappeared.

Norbert led Hoffa to turn left and right very deftly, and got into a narrow alley. Here, he opened a heavy wooden door of a church and pushed Hoffa inside.

After closing the thick wooden door, the siren outside the door became muffled.

This is probably the corridor used by a Catholic church to transport goods in the past, and it looks quite clean.

Norbert leaned against the door and took a few heavy breaths, then he kicked over the trash can angrily.

"This group of damn Muggles won't be clean for a few days."

Scraps of confetti fly, and Norbert throws a tantrum in the church tunnel.

Hoffa looked at his irritable companion, lost in thought. It is already 1942, and the center of the Muggle conflict has shifted to the Soviet Union. Why did it suddenly start fighting again?

After thinking about it, he couldn't figure it out.

Norber was still annoyed at the side: "That's all right, I used apparition, what should I do if the German wizards stationed there notice it?"

"Being aware of it doesn't mean you can find it right away."

Hoffa comforted: "We still have time to run."

"Run, run again, where do you want to go this time, Antarctica?"

Noble said angrily.

Hoffa was amused: "If you go to Antarctica, you have to find the stolen weapons first. Let's lead the way."

The two walked forward along the narrow tunnel. The tunnel was not empty either. Not far away, the two saw a black man sitting on a chair drinking beer. When the black man passed by, he greeted him.

Gradually, more and more people gathered in the tunnel.

These people were a little tired and lazy, with bad eyes and fierce faces. They were either drinking or wiping their weapons. At first glance, he looks like a guy who lives in the black zone.

Some dressed up like priests in monastery clothes. They stood on wooden boxes, recited eulogy impassionedly, and promoted religion and belief.

When the two reached the corner of the tunnel, a big black man with tattoos on his arms came out from another corner. He had two sharp knives stuck in his waist. He carried an assault rifle on his back.

"Hey, Hoffa. Hey, Norbert."

The strong black man greeted Hoffa in English.

"Yo, Gump."

Hoffa gave him a curt nod.

"Did you just see that explosion outside?"

The tall black man asked with some lingering fear.

Hoffa nodded: "I see."

"It's been a long time since I played, why did it start again today."

"This is wartime, and it's not surprising that there are fights anywhere."

Hoffa said.

"It seems to be the same reason."

The black man pondered for a moment, then asked curiously, "Where are you going so late?"

Hoffa didn't answer.

"Go to Durant."

Noble replied.

"Are you going to find him too?"

The black man walked and asked in surprise.

"Why, someone else is looking for him."

Norbert asked.

"I heard that the British Ministry of Magic is also sending people to look for him recently."

"The British Ministry of Magic sent someone to find Durant?"

Norbert's eyes widened.

"almost."

The black man replied: "It happened in the past two days. Two days ago, one of my subordinates received a wizard from England at the station. She asked Durant's location as soon as she got off the bus."

Noble immediately asked vigilantly, "What's going on?"

"You think those people will tell me?"

The black man shrugged his shoulders: "I'm not interested either. What about you British people has nothing to do with me."

After finishing speaking, he got out of a corridor at the corner of the tunnel and disappeared at the end of the corridor.

After the black friend left, Norber's expression became a little uncertain: "The Ministry of Magic is looking for Durant, what do you think?"

Hoffa pondered for a moment, frowned and said:

"That guy Durant is greedy for life and afraid of death. If the Ministry of Magic finds it by following the vines, that guy will have to spread the news of our privately made weapons."

Norbert: "The Ministry of Magic knows you're here, what do they want?"

"Who knows, but in any case, he should be found before the Ministry of Magic."

half an hour later.

Hoffa and Norbert got out of the tunnel one after the other.

They came to the East Twenty District of the city.

The rain had stopped by now, and a huge half-moon hung high in the sky.

In the blue-black night of France, churches and monasteries towered like clouds, and the spiers of those ancient buildings were covered with strange statues, which presented a grotesque appearance in the night.

The chaos in the outer city has not yet spread here, and it looks like a peaceful place here. Only occasionally some gunshots resembling firecrackers could be heard in the distance.

But this is commonplace in war years.

The two walked around a monastery that had been bombed into ruins, and came to a dilapidated bar in a corner of the city.

Flickering neon flickers on and off.

A few black men with guns at the entrance of the bar were checking the crowd coming in and out.

Hoffa swung his arm, and the magic booster glove transformed into a mouse. It jumped out of his palm, entered the bar in the blink of an eye, and disappeared among several black people.

Noticing Hoffa and Norber approaching, the black men with rifles immediately surrounded them with fierce faces.

"Hand over all weapons."

Noble drew his pistol and put it in the Negro's hand.

The blacks are still not satisfied, pressing Noble and Hoffa against the wall is a mess.

Hoffa and Norber did not resist, and after accepting the interrogation similar to the aircraft security check with open arms, they entered the bar without any influence at all.

The bar was filled with a strong and weird smell, a group of white people blushed and puffed out smoke thickly, and the air was filled with a choking smell of smoke. Among the crowd were some waitresses with exposed figures and heavy make-up. Most of them were young with numb smiles on their faces.

There is a dance floor in the middle of the bar. In the middle of the dance floor, there are several black beauties and white women dancing pole dance with their upper body exposed. Francs and marks lay scattered at their feet.

Hoffa has long been familiar with this kind of fashion. In the thighs that come and go, he bends down in the crowd and pretends to tie his shoelaces.

A black mouse came out of the darkness, returned to Hoffa's arm, and turned back into the magic power-enhancing glove.

He stood up, and Noble leaned against his shoulder and whispered:

"Wait for me first. I'll go find Durant and give you a signal after I find him. That guy hasn't seen you before. Let's surprise him."

Hoffa nodded, didn't say much, and went straight to the bar.

And Noble disappeared into the dancing crowd sideways.

Behind the bar, a stooped old black bartender was wiping a glass. When he saw Hoffa coming, he asked habitually, "What do you want?"

Just at this moment, a tall woman came out from the darkness. Sitting next to Hoffa.

"Whiskey, please."

So Hoffa said, "Give me a glass of whiskey."

So the bartender served two glasses of whiskey with ice, and the tall woman next to him took the glass and smiled, and touched Hoffa's glass with the glass.

"good evening."

she said in French.

"Good evening."

Huo Fapi smiled, raised the glass and dipped his lips in the wine, then put the glass back.

"You don't seem to be very old."

The woman laughed.

"fine."

Hoffa said with a polite smile.

"Where are you from, do you come out to play alone?"

The vibe here in France is very open, or rather, the vibe in bars is very open.

"Work, not play."

Hoffa appears honest and distant.

He is not used to drinking, and he is too lazy to strike up a conversation with others. He may have more important things to do later, so he must stay absolutely sober.

"What job is there to do in a bar?"

The woman put her hand on Hoffa's shoulder, looking very curious.

Hoffa raised his eyelids to glance at the palm on his shoulder, and then at the owner of the palm. This is a bald-headed woman with a strange appearance, wearing gray clothes, with a high nose and big eyes, she is pretty but pretty.

But it was precisely because the other party was pretty that he felt a little abnormal. Logically speaking, most beautiful girls would not take the initiative.

He said slowly, "You really care too much."

The bald woman wasn't angry either, she shrugged and let go, "You're quite aloof."

After speaking, she walked away from him with a glass of wine in hand.

Hoffa didn't pay attention to this little episode, but when the bald woman left, he felt a strange sense of peeping. He couldn't help but look back, but he didn't realize that anyone was staring at him. Everyone was immersed in the world of alcohol and sex.

He shook his head and regained his composure.

There were people coming and going in the bar, maybe I was thinking too much.

In this way, Hoffa sat on the high stool for half an hour. No matter who saw his appearance, no one had any interest, but he only attracted the attention of the bartender.

The bartender looked at the weird-looking boy in front of him with a somewhat unkind expression.

I saw the guy sitting on the high pedals, with his eyelids drooping, his fingers regularly tapping the table, and a glass of whiskey on ice in front of him. But at this moment, the ice cubes in the glass of amber wine were about to melt, and there were dense drops of water condensing on the glass.

Since half an hour ago, this guy came in and sat there without saying a word. He was very perfunctory when the people next to him chatted with him, but he served him a glass of whiskey on ice, and he didn't move from the beginning to the end.

The bartender grew wary.

Most people here are red-faced, smoking cigarettes, complaining about life and war, looking like they are drunk and eating and waiting to die. Occasionally, a guy who deliberately pretends to be deep will show his true colors when he meets a beautiful woman.

Working in this kind of place for many years, he can clearly distinguish which people are deliberately pretending to be cool to attract others' attention, and which are really abnormal.

Although the young man in front of him was young, he had a rare sobriety and indifference on his face. He looked like a rare teetotaler. Why are these guys in the bar?

Finally, the bartender who wiped the glass couldn't bear it any longer. He put down the glass that he had wiped countless times, and said intentionally or unintentionally:

"The life is really terrible. Every day is slaughter, bombing, and dead people. If you want me to say, when will this kind of life be the end?"

Hoffa hung his head and replied, "What does it have to do with you?"

"Why doesn't it matter?"

The bartender said intentionally or unintentionally: "This world is too dangerous, if you want to live a few more days, you need to put more thought into it."

"Be patient, bear with it for a few years, maybe you will be free."

He answered absent-mindedly, wondering why Noble had been looking for Durant for so long.

"Are you waiting for someone here?"

The bartender pointed out why Hofakur was sitting.

"Aha."

"Aren't you going to drink?"

The bartender points to the whiskey in front of Hoffa.

"Do you have to drink at the bar?"

Hoffa asked listlessly.

"Is not it?"

The bartender poked around with his dark lips.

Just at this moment, a male customer rushed into the dance floor, hugged a stripper and started kissing wildly. He was probably very rich, and he hired a lot of people to open champagne and party downstairs. The dancer screamed, but her voice was drowned out by the spouting of champagne.

Bartender: "Look, that's a normal person."

Impatiently, Hoffa took out a few franc notes and pushed them over, trying to stop the annoying guy with money, but his hand was pressed heavily by the bartender halfway.

boom!

The bartender pressed the back of Hoffa's hand and said in a low voice, "Don't pretend, you're not here to drink, are you?"

Looking at the dark palm on the back of his hand, Hoffa was slightly surprised at first, and then grinned and said sarcastically: "Why, do you even care about the purpose of customers in your bar?"

After a disagreement, a fierce light flashed on the black man's face, and he reached under the counter, where an old pager was placed horizontally: "Do you know whose site this is?"

Noticing the opponent's small movements, Hoffa didn't bother to pay attention at all, he tilted his head, "How much money Durant gave you, you care so much about him?"

The bartender picked up the pager, looked at Hoffa and said without blinking: "Come in, there is an inexplicable guy here."

He planned to have the guy in front of him taken away, but as he spoke, he felt something was wrong. The young guy was looking at himself with a playful expression.

Turning his head again, he realized that for some reason, he was holding a wine bottle as a phone call.

Such an abnormal and absurd scene made him throw away the wine bottle like an electric shock, and reached for the shotgun hanging on the wall.

And just as he was about to draw a gun to threaten, at this moment, a dull roar suddenly came from a distance.

Roar! !

Accompanied by that roar, a figure slammed down from the second floor like a cannonball. He shattered the railing, slammed into the dance floor of the group of strippers, and smashed a bunch of wine bottles.

Shards of glass splatter.

Playing cards and banknotes slowly floated down from the sky.

Everyone in the bar was stunned by this sudden scene.

The dancer who was gesticulating was so frightened that she shrunk behind the pole, champagne dripped from the corners of the mouths of several people watching the dance, and the card players sat there holding poker in a daze.

It was quiet for about three seconds.

It wasn't until the waitresses carrying the plates realized that they threw away the plates one after another, covering their heads and screaming.

The high-pitched scream ignited the fuse of chaos.

It only took a second for the bar to descend into complete chaos.

The bartender slammed the shotgun, and Hoffa jumped to his feet and punched the black bartender on the nose.

The poor bartender was knocked to the ground by this punch before he could pull the insurance, and passed out with nosebleeds gushing out.

Then Hoffa rushed to the center of the mess.

I saw that Noble, who had just left, was lying on his back in the middle of a pile of broken boards, his left arm was twisted into a weird arc, and the corner of his mouth was coughing up blood.

On his chest, five huge wounds were engraved, as if he had been scratched by a ferocious beast.

Horrified, Hoffa crouched down.

"Hey, old man, what's the matter with you?"

"Ahem. It's okay."

Norbert squinted at Hoffa, struggling to get himself up from the ground.

"That Durant guy is a werewolf."