Bull head processing plant

A black Lincoln gleamed dazzlingly in the scorching sun on the endless desert highway.

The bell rang car, man black, who was sitting as the co-pilot, turned around and handed a square board with a black frame at the bottom of the whole body to his back.

The older man in the back row lightly spits out the cigarette from his mouth. He glanced at the screen number, unconsciously loosened the tie that suddenly felt a little tight and took it to his ear.

"It's me." He listened quietly to the other end of the communicator, "Okay, I'll take care of it for you."

Putting down the phone-like communicator in his hand, the screen lights up again from time to time, and he swipes his fingers, and a piece of data is magnified by the screen and mapped in the air.

A black Lincoln car turns a corner near a white-walled factory next to the highway. The red sign on the factory roof reads "Free Beef Processing Plant," and the half-opened iron gate stands with an old block that reads "Idlers are not allowed to enter." " sign. The car drove into the hospital and did not drive fast, but the rear of the car still raised a piece of dust.

The car stopped, and the three got out of the vehicle.

The older man wore a white top hat and a white suit with a bloated body, followed by two sturdy men in suits. The older man stopped at the door, turned his head, and handed the heather pipe behind his mouth - a man in a suit took it carefully.

"Don't let it go out."

"Yes"

The older man walked into the factory and passed through the clearing and corona areas, stabbing and bleeding until the disemboweled area.

He Opened the translucent door curtain hanging on the ground, and the hooks in the large area were full of disembodied cows. To ensure the quality of the meat, the temperature inside is shallow, and there is cold air floating around.

The man tightened his suit and walked towards the man whose back was to him at the moment. The man is now using a sharp knife to slowly cut off a piece of meat from the rib and then put it in his mouth.

"These captive creatures never know the end of their fate is at the hands of their breeders."

The man turned around and looked at the older man who had just walked in.

He is a black man with a slender body, wearing blue suspender work trousers and water boots on his feet. He weighs the knife in his hand, and his rolled-up cuffs reveal his tight forearms.

The man chewed the beef in his mouth as he walked and came to the bald older man.

"So, McKee, our production is still decreasing this season, right?" The man's gold-rimmed glasses reflected his bald, fat face. "It's the reason you said earlier."

"Yes, Prince Frain"

"I've been listening to this result for six months. I don't care which link or guy makes things go bad. In short, I want my goods to restore as soon as possible!" Frain threw the sharp knife in his hand and flew to McGee. Above his head, McKee's white top hat was nailed to the concrete wall by a knife.

"My appointment will end soon. I won't let those idiots do pointless redemption like headless flies and, finally, destroy Hassas, so I don't want to be here before I leave. What's wrong?" Frain took another step closer to McGee, stretched out his right hand, and patted his broad shoulder, then walked sideways to the window through the dim light, looking up at the light. "Prince, do you mean that I will stay here forever? I came to this damn earth for you; you can't..."

The man went to the table by the window and fried a steak.

"No, you can't leave yet, this is one of our largest sources of goods, and it's my bargaining chip to return to Hassas, McKee. I need you here."

McGee wanted to continue to say something, but Frain stretched out a hand without looking back and made a stop gesture.

McGee swallowed the words in his mouth.

The man put the two fried steaks on the two plates, walked to the chair, sat down, then looked up at McGee.

"Beef is not that bad. Would you like to join us?"

"No, thank you, I still have something to do." McGee nodded and saluted, about to turn around and leave.

The man cut a piece of steak and said, "Today, a Blue Moon Star aircraft found by the police in the mountains. Go check it out and tell me."

"Okay," McKee walked towards the door

"Take Your Stuff"

McGee took off his hat, put it back on his head, and went out the door.

McGee walked out of the factory gate, crumpled up his hat angrily, threw it on the ground, and kicked it away. He took the pipe handed by his entourage and strode forward. The three got into the car, and the black Lincoln started driving up the endless desert highway.

McGee complained in the car, kicking the front seat hard.

After venting, he removed the handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped the sweat from his bald head. At this time, the transparent communicator screen of the previous call lit up, and a message flashed - he took it in front of him and looked at it - two types of files. The woman Jenny on the information is none other than the queen who flew from the sky . The text records the time of her birth. On February 5, 1935, the place of birth was the local brother. Sun City in Tan City. The second profile is a boy who looks like a high school student named Charlie.

McGee handed the communicator to the man in the suit, who was the co-pilot, smoking a pipe and looking out the window.