Harry Potter: I Am a Legend

Before the words fell, there was another explosion in the distance, mixed with violent gunfire and firefighting. The soldiers stopped talking, and set up their weapons and began to shoot into the darkness, as if they were attacking an invisible behemoth.

"Get up, hurry up!"

Hoffa kicked Norber anxiously and stretched out his hand.

"Apparition."

"damn it"

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

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

Crackle!

With a loud explosion, the two disappeared in place.

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

Urban area. Noble pulled Hoffa staggered out of Apparition. At this moment, air defense sirens flooded the streets of Paris.

Pedestrians scattered on the road and fled, and a large number of trampled fruits and vegetables were scattered on the streets. Some of the war horses tied to the pillars screamed desperately because they were frightened.

Soldiers on the streets and alleys jumped into jeeps one after another, and dozens of military jeeps, with dazzling spotlights, galloped across the street, rolling up large stocks of dust.

"Go on! Hurry up!"

Noble urged in front.

Hoffa hurriedly caught up with Norbert, who was almost gone.

Noble turned Hoffa very skillfully into a narrow alley. Here, he opened a heavy wooden door of a church and pushed Hoffa in.

The thick wooden door was closed, and the alarm outside the door became low.

This is probably a corridor used by the 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 the trash can with an annoyed kick.

"These **** Muggles won't be cleansed for a few days."

Scraps of paper flew around, and Norbert lost his temper in the tunnel of the church.

Hoffa looked at his irritable companion, lost in thought. It is now 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 didn't sort out any clues.

Norbert was still annoyed on the side: "Now it's okay. I used Apparition. What if the German wizards who are stationed noticed it?"

"Awareness doesn't mean you can find it immediately."

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

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

Norbert said irritably.

Hoffa was amused: "If you go to Antarctica, you have to find the stolen weapon first and lead the way."

The two walked forward along the long and narrow tunnel. This tunnel is not empty. Before they went far, they saw a black man sitting in a chair drinking beer. The black man greeted Norbert as he passed by.

Gradually, more and more people gathered in the tunnel.

These people are a little tired and lazy, with bad eyes and fierce faces. They either yelled for five or six drinks, or wiped their weapons. At first glance, it is the guy who is asking for life in the black zone.

Some were dressed in monastery clothes and dressed like priests. They stood on wooden boxes, chanting eulogy impassionedly, propagating religion and belief.

When the two reached the corner of the tunnel, a **** man with tattoos came out from the other corner. There are two sharp blades 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 nodded briefly at him.

"Did you just see the explosion outside?"

The tall black man asked with some lingering fears.

Hoffa nodded: "I see it."

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

"This is wartime, so it's not surprising where you fight."

Hoffa said.

"It seems to be the same."

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

Hoffa did not answer.

"Go to Durant."

Noble answered.

"You also go find him?"

The black man asked as he walked in a little surprised.

"Why, someone else is looking for him."

Noble asked.

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

"The British Ministry of Magic sent someone to look for Durant?"

Norbert's eyes widened.

"almost."

The black man replied: "It's just these two days. Two days ago, one of my subordinates received a wizard from England at the station. She got off the train and asked Durant where she was."

Norbert immediately asked vigilantly: "What's the situation?"

"Do you think those people will tell me?"

The black man shrugged his shoulders: "I'm not interested either. You British things have nothing to do with me."

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

Hoffa pondered for a moment and frowned:

"That guy Durant is greedy for life and afraid of death. In case the Ministry of Magic is found by the vines, that guy will have to spread the news of our private weapons."

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

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

After half an hour.

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

They came to the East 20th District of the city.

The rain had stopped at this moment, and a huge half-moon was hanging high in the air.

In the blue and black night of France, churches and monasteries are towering like clouds, and the spires of those ancient buildings are covered with strange statues, which present a weird appearance in the night.

The chaos in the outer city has not spread to this side, but it looks like a calm wave here. I can only hear gunshots like firecrackers in the distance occasionally.

But this was commonplace in the 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.

The flickering neon flickered.

A few black gunmen at the bar were checking the crowds entering and leaving.

Hoffa shook his arm, the magic booster glove deformed into a mouse, jumped off his palm, got into the bar in the blink of an eye, and disappeared among several blacks.

Perceiving Hoffa and Norbert coming, the black men with rifles immediately surrounded them with fierce faces.

"Hand over all the weapons."

Norbert drew a pistol and placed it in the black man's hand.

The black man was still not satisfied. Pressing Norbert and Hoffa on the wall was a mess.

Hoffa and Norbert did not resist, and after accepting a similar plane security check with open arms, they entered the bar without any influence at all.

There was a strong and weird smell in the bar. A group of white people blushed and spit out smoke, and the air was filled with a choking smell of smoke. There were some female waitresses with exposed bodies and colorful makeup, most of them were very 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 dancing with their upper bodies exposed. Some francs and marks were scattered under their feet.

This kind of ethos has long been a surprise. In the thighs coming and going, he bends down in the crowd, pretending to tie his shoelaces.

A black mouse sprang out from the dark, returned to Hoffa's arm, and changed back to the magic augmentation glove.

He stood up, Norbert pressed against his shoulder and whispered:

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

Hoffa nodded, did not speak much, and went straight to the bar.

Norbert disappeared sideways into the dancing crowd.

Behind the bar, a rickety old black bartender was wiping the glass, and seeing Hoffa coming, he asked habitually: "What do you want?"

At exactly this moment, a tall woman walked out of the dark. Sit next to Hoffa.

"Whiskey, please."

So Hoffa also 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 it.

"good evening."

She said in French.

"good evening."

Hoffapi smiled without a smile, raised the glass and dipped his lips with the wine, then put it back in the glass.

"You seem to be young."

The woman smiled.

"It's fine."

Hoffa said with a polite smile.

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

The atmosphere in France is very open, or in other words, the atmosphere in the bar is very open.

"Work, not play."

Hoffa appeared honest and distant.

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

"What work do you want to do in a bar?"

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

Hoffa raised his eyelids and glanced at the palm of his shoulder, then at the owner of the palm. This is a very strange-looking bald woman, wearing gray clothes, with a high nose and big eyes, and she is pretty.

But it is precisely because the other person is very good-looking that he feels a little abnormal. It stands to reason that most beautiful girls will not take the initiative.

He said slowly: "You really have a lot of control."

The bald woman was not angry either, she shrugged and let go, "You are quite tall and cold."

After speaking, she circumvented him with the wine glass.

Hoffa didn't care about this episode, but when the bald woman left, he noticed a strange sense of peeping. He couldn't help looking back, but he didn't notice anyone staring at him. Everyone was immersed in the world of alcohol and sex.

He shook his head and recovered his calm.

There are people coming and going in the bar, maybe because I think too much.

In this way, Hoffa sat on a high stool for half an hour. No matter who saw his appearance, no one was interested in it, but it only attracted the attention of the bartender.

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

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

Since half an hour ago, this guy came in and sat on the spot without saying a word. He was very perfunctory when the people next to him chatted with him, and he served him a glass of whiskey with ice, and he hadn't moved from start to finish.

The bartender became vigilant.

Most people here are red-faced, smoking cigarettes, complaining about life and war, and look like they are drunk and eating and waiting to die. Occasionally, someone who deliberately pretends to be deep, meets a beautiful woman, and it is revealed.

Having worked 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 who are genuine and abnormal.

Although the young man in front of him was not very old, he had a rare sobriety and indifference on his face. At first glance, he was the kind of rare non-sticky guy. Why are these guys coming to the bar?

Finally, the bartender who wiped the cup couldn't help it. He put down the cup that he didn't know how many times he wiped it, and said intentionally or unintentionally:

"The days are really terrible. Every day is slaughter, bombing, and death. If you want me to say, when is this kind of day?"

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

"Why is it okay?"

The bartender intentionally or unintentionally said: "This world is too dangerous. If you want to live a few more days, you have to think twice."

"Let's bear it, bear it for a few years, maybe you will be relieved."

He answered absent-mindedly, thinking about how Nor had looked for Durant for so long.

"Are you waiting for someone here?"

The bartender broke the reason why Hoffaqu was sitting.

"Aha."

"Don't you drink?"

The bartender pointed to the whiskey in front of Hoffa.

"Do you have to drink when you come to the bar?"

Hoffa asked listlessly.

"Is not it?"

The bartender used his dark lips to poke around.

At exactly this moment, a male customer rushed onto the dance floor, hugged a stripper, and started kissing wildly. He is probably very rich and hired a lot of people to have a champagne party underneath. The dancer screamed, but her voice was drowned in the sound of champagne jets.

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

Hoffa took out a few franc notes impatiently and pushed them over, trying to plug the annoying guy's mouth with money, but his hand was pressed heavily by the bartender halfway through.

boom!

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

Looking at the dark palms on the backs of his hands, Hoffa was slightly surprised at first, and then grinned and sarcastically said: "Why, do your bars even care about the purpose of customers?"

There was a disagreement. A fierce light flashed on the black man's face. He reached under the counter, where an old pager was lying horizontally: "Do you know whose site this is?"

Perceiving the other party's small movements, Hoffa didn't bother to pay attention to it. He tilted his head, "How much did Durant give you, and you care about him so much?"

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

He planned to let someone take the guy in front of him 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 found himself on the phone while holding a wine bottle for some reason.

Such an abnormal and absurd scene made him threw open the wine bottle like an electric shock, and reached out to the shotgun hanging on the wall.

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

Roar! !

Accompanied by the roar, a figure crashed down from the second floor like a cannonball. He smashed the railing, smashed into the dance floor of the group of ****, and smashed a pile of wine bottles.

Glass sawdust splashing.

Playing cards and paper money floated slowly from the sky.

Everyone in the bar was stunned by this sudden scene.

The dancer who was scratching her head shrank behind the steel tube in fright, and a few people watching the dancers shed champagne from the corners of their mouths, while playing cards were sitting on the spot blankly, holding the poker.

It was quiet for about three seconds.

The waitresses who were holding the plates reacted. They threw away the plates and screamed while holding their heads.

The high-pitched screams are like the fuse that ignites chaos.

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

The bartender grabbed the shotgun abruptly, Hoffa stood up abruptly, and hit the black bartender with a punch on the nose.

The poor bartender's insurance hadn't been opened yet, he was knocked to the ground by this punch, and he passed out with a spurt of nosebleeds.

Then Hoffa rushed to the center of the mess.

I saw that Norbert, who had just left, was lying in the middle of a pile of broken planks, his left arm twisted into a strange arc, and the corner of his mouth coughed up blood.

Five huge wounds were engraved on his chest, as if he had been scratched by a beast.

Hoffa was shocked and knelt down.

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

"Ahem, it's okay"

Norbert looked at Hoffa sideways, struggling to prop himself up from the ground.

"That guy Durant is a werewolf."