The thugs shuddered, and the fear of death surged in their hearts.
On the other side...
Sakaki Makoto rubbed the Remington M870 on the seat, loaded the rifle with a "click", and aimed at the thugs in front of him again.
this time...
No one laughed anymore, and the thugs dispersed, running faster than rabbits.
What they are best at is bullying the weak.
When you encounter a rock that is too hard to kick...
Most people will 'back off when faced with difficulties'.
The Harley 883 sped away without slowing down, driving on the noisy road.
The freckled boy stared at Sakaki Makoto blankly. He put the Remington M870 back into the tennis bag, took out a box of chocolates from his arms, and put one into his mouth with no expression on his face.
In a trance...
He seemed to understand something.
He felt something called a sense of security in Makoto Sakaki.
Even though the freckled boy was an out-and-out boy, he couldn't help but feel relieved.
It's not that Makoto Sakaki has the ability to turn the tide, but...
No matter what happens, he will always stand by you.
How's that for competition...
The freckled boy looked melancholy.
No wonder Shiho likes him, even I...
Pooh!
worship!
When the Harley motorcycle drove out of the last intersection of Seventh Avenue, the Ford GT500 Shelby sports car parked in the alley suddenly turned on its lights and slowly turned out of the box.
Under the rain, the blue and white paint lines, combined with the visually explosive muscular lines, make this Shelby sports car have sufficient explosive power just from the appearance.
"Well, don't worry, I've caught up with him."
Vermouth, wearing purple-pink sunglasses, put down the phone and looked at the Harley 883 in front of her with a meaningful smile on her face:
"I told you..."
"You can't get away."
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