Chapter 278

Hoffa felt like he was dying.

It's not just the scorching sun that day brings to him, but also some subtle and irreversible changes in his body.

In the sunny days of London in 1994, he could see that some tiny lenses were forming on the surface of his skin. Those lenses are growing and spreading little by little. Before long, the knuckle of his right hand became transparent.

Sister Chloe once told him, except for her. From birth, everyone's position in time and space is determined. If they move without permission, they will produce time flares. The longer they exist in different dimensions, the more fragile the logical chain of their existence will be.

Last time, just two or three days before he went, he almost died under the time flare. The feeling of powerlessness in the face of the law of time is still fresh.

And this time, 50 years later.

When the time flare sounded the horn again, Chloe was no longer there. He stepped on the completely strange land alone. He couldn't think of any way to make himself alive.

Back 50 years ago? Go to Dumbledore? Even Dumbledore can't make him go back to 50 years ago. Even if he wants to, he can't build another arrow of time in just two days.

What can we do? If there are only two days left.

Five years ago, if you asked him what he would do when he came to the world of Harry Potter, he would probably have said something like playing Hermione and Voldemort.

But now, looking at the poster of "the killer is not too cold" in front of him, he just wants to order a cup of popcorn, a cup of ice cola, and a hamburger, sitting in the cinema in the most comfortable position, quietly waiting for the arrival of death.

None of the most passive walkers in history.

With this in mind, Hoffa laughs at himself, which is probably a mechanism of emotional compensation. The brain subconsciously prevents people from collapsing because of too much despair.

So do it.

He stood up in a daze, ignoring the strange eyes of others, and went to the cinema in the distance.

But when he walked slowly to the gate of the cinema, he found another problem that was not a problem.

He has no money.

His clothes were changed in Miranda's house 50 years ago. Later, they became ragged because of the fighting. Even if he had some money in his pocket, it would have been burned away.

Of course, he can use magic to cheat some money or make some counterfeit money.

But that doesn't make sense.

You have to hurt people before you die. It's boring to do that.

He saw the exquisite antique Necklace in his hand, which was the only thing he had. Then he looked at a McDonald's nearby and thought that he might exchange it for a cold coke.

So he went into the store, but as soon as he entered, he was pushed out by a pockmarked face fat saleswoman with nostrils. She pointed to the long line in front of the counter: "don't you see you're busy? Go, there's no time to entertain tramps."

Hoffa, who was pushed out of the glass door, was not angry at all. He turned back and asked, "did you... Win World War II?"

For a second.

"Crazy."

Fat woman waved the dishcloth to wipe the table, lettuce leaves splashed on Hoffa's face, sour slowly said: "if you have a question, ask your teacher, look at you, you are a high school dropout with nothing to do."

...

outside the McDonald's restaurant, Hoffa, holding a necklace, sits on the red fire hydrant on the street in the afternoon and looks at the traffic aimlessly. At this moment, the time flare on the back of the hand has expanded to the forearm, and most of his thumb to elbow joints are transparent.

He was used to the devastation of World War II, but he was very strange to the living world he should be familiar with.

Britain is still Britain. There are no fewer films to be made, and no less electrical appliances to be invented. What should happen will still happen.

Germany didn't win. Even if it was going to die in two days, Germany still didn't win. Greendevo did not achieve the goal of making the world feel pain, which shows that his existence is actually insignificant, whether he or not is the same.

"It's ironic."

He said lightly, "originally I am nothing."

Shua!!

The voice just dropped, accompanied by the noise of a rush of tires rubbing against the ground. A sultry yellow Lamborghini Diablo pulled up in front of the McDonald's.

It has square eyes, huge air intake grilles and long tail wings. It emits puffing exhaust sound and drips water.

The pedestrians turned to the direction of the sound, the drivers looked at the wide monster with wide eyes, showing an envious look, the children jumped up and down, chatting excitedly, the sound from under the hood interrupted the voice of other people on the street.

Although he is on the verge of death at the moment, and although Hoffa has just come to this era from 50 years ago, he still finds out some information about the car from his dusty memory. Diablo, made in 1991... One of the top luxury cars of the 1990s.Bang.

The door opened upward, and a husky and happy man's voice came out of the car: "honey, you can come down here."

"Well, what about Oxford Street shopping

Said the woman discontentedly.

"Well, it's just a bad day. I have to pick up a friend."

"Can't you tell me in advance where I'm going now?"

"Go shopping, go shopping, have coffee, whatever you want."

The husky man's voice became a little perfunctory.

"I don't know."

The woman said tough.

"Take it. It's your birthday."

The man said casually, putting something in her hand.

"You remember my birthday!"

The woman said pleasantly.

"Er... Maybe...

" hum, I like your indifferent attitude towards me, Trojan horse! "

With a kiss envied by passers-by, followed by a hot fragrance. A pair of long legs stepped down from the luxury car and flashed in front of Hoffa.

It was a woman wearing sunglasses, carrying a famous brand bag, looking at the strange women around with arrogant face. There were four big words on her pearly face. I was a famous model.

This kind of picture is not unusual in London. With the end of the war and the rapid development of economy, rich people are everywhere. Just like in Shanghai or Beijing in the 21st century, when you see this kind of picture, you probably curse in your heart, damned guy, or money can really do whatever you want. Then you are unwilling to turn around and leave, blaming God for not giving you a good baby.

Hoffa hung his head and didn't care about a sports car or a model. He didn't care about anything because he was dying.

But the sports car didn't leave. Instead, it stopped in front of him and farted.

The owner of the sports car leaned over and yelled to the gray haired boy sitting at the fire hydrant outside the door, "Hey, can you get in?"

Suddenly, his arm pricked and Hoffa frowned.

The guy in the sports car saw that he didn't respond, so he honked the horn, and the Yellow Lamborghini Diablo gave a loud cry.

Hoffa slowly raised his head and saw that in the open gull wing door, an old man in sunglasses and baseball cap was staring at him. He was wearing a simple white T and blue cowboy, happily honking his horn: "young man, don't be so negative, come in and sit down."

Hoffa looked around, and the Lamborghini farted again. Poof poof.

Old man helpless: "see who, I talk with you."

The passers-by stopped and looked surprised.

They can't connect this guy who just sits on the well cover begging, who is in tatters, who has a gray chicken nest and whose face is full of dust with the dazzling luxury car in front of him.

The woman who cleaned the table in the hamburger shop didn't drop her chin when she saw a scene outside the glass. I don't understand why the owner of that rare luxury car wanted to let a tramp in.

Even the tall model, who had walked away for several steps, pulled down her glasses in surprise and turned her mouth with expensive lipstick into an O-shape.

Hoffa didn't respond.

The old man in the car was a little helpless. He came out from the other side. Under his vest, he was Tan and healthy. He was tall and looked very powerful.

Then he came up in three or two steps, grabbed Hoffa's arm and dragged him into the car.

Lamborghini and what it looks like is not a simple interior decoration chrome, Huo FA issued a muffled humming, the carriage is a strong perfume smell, so that people feel chest tightness, he has not responded to this situation, what is the situation, the intense pain again poured into the body.

With a slight click, he could feel the rapid crystallization of his chest. His existence is more and more illogical, and his body is rapidly disintegrating under the power of the arrow of time.

Bang!

Lamborghini's door is closed.

The traffic roared out of the streets of London.

He turned his head and looked at the driver's seat beside him. The old man in the baseball cap and white T-shirt said in a hoarse voice, "what are you doing?"

"You don't ask who I am?"

The old man held the steering wheel and asked with a smile.

"I don't care who you are."

Hoffa said slowly, looking at his arm.

Through the window of the glass, his right side almost disappeared in the sunlight, as if it was made of glass, only some faint blood vessels and skeleton veins could be seen inside.

"Yes, I have the pride of my youth."

The old man nodded with a smile. He was very happy.

"Don't be ashamed."

Hoffa has the strength to sneer. He doesn't think an old man driving a sports car can be compared with himself.His pride and experience do not allow anyone to feel like himself, but he is now unable to resist. I don't want to argue. A pair of duckweed like drifting with the tide.

The time flare is eroding his body, and he has entered the countdown phase of his life.

Creak.

When passing the traffic lights, Lamborghini stopped. The old man pulled down his baseball cap and sunglasses with a smile, revealing his short gray hair and a pair of pale golden eyes.

He took the wheel, looked at Hoffa, and said in Chinese, "am I really ashamed?"