I’m a Detective In the Marvel World

Dean rushed into the bathroom, faced the sink, and retched hard, holding his throat. Sam also hurried over, patting him on the back hard.

After a long time, Dean's entire face was flushed red, his eyeballs were protruding high, and when it seemed that he was about to explode, he let out a "vomit" and finally sprayed out from his mouth. A mouthful of blood.

"Crack", the blood contained something hard.

Dean staggered back a few steps, sat down weakly on the ground, gasped and said, "Damn it, it must not be my internal organs..."

Sam frowned, took out a boxy object from the blood-splattered sink, rinsed it with water, only to find that it turned out to be a piece of wood the size of a fingernail.

"what is this?"

"Looks like a piece of wood."

"I know it's wood chips, but why is it coming out of my mouth?"

"I have to ask you this?"

Sam looked at Dean suspiciously, and Dean quickly waved his hands: "I'm crazy, go eat that?"

Sam helped Dean out of the bathroom, threw him on the sofa, and looked around with the piece of wood: "This thing... seems to have been peeled off from something, look, there is still friction on it. trace."

Dean covered his mouth and said angrily: "Of course there are traces of friction, after all, it was sprayed from my throat."

"No, the friction marks should have been on it long ago, unless you have a steel plate in your throat." Sam rubbed the wood chip with his fingers, affirming, "This is definitely rubbed on a hard object, and the mark is very deep."

Dean lazily said: "Even so, so what, with only this piece of wood, how can we investigate? Unless this kind of wood piece is produced in this small town."

Sam was taken aback, looked at Dean suddenly, and said in a deep voice, "Do you still remember the dead richest man in the town? Under his family business, there is a small wood processing factory."

Dean sat up abruptly, frowned and said, "Continue."

Sam continued: "When I met the sheriff today, I chatted with other police officers in the police station. I heard that there was a wood processing factory in the town, and many town residents worked in the factory. Unfortunately, with the economic crisis , the richest man had no choice but to close the factory, but he paid a subsidy before closing, so the residents of the town were not too overwhelmed."

"But just a month ago, the richest man suddenly restarted the wood processing factory,

Many small town residents were recruited, but unfortunately with the sudden death of the richest man, the factory was shut down again. "

Dean took the wooden block from Sam's hand: "You think there is a problem with that factory."

Sam shrugged: "At least it's a clue."

Dean thought for a while, then threw the wood chip back to Sam: "Okay then, let's go and have a look tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Go now, depending on your physical condition, I'm afraid you can't delay any longer." Sam stood up and said anxiously, "This time I spit out wood chips. What will I spit out next time? A machine tool?"

Dean glanced at the window, it was dark outside: "But it's night now."

"so what?"

"It's not safe to go out at night."

"We've performed countless missions at night before, and you don't feel safe now?"

Dean also stood up and said solemnly: "I was just about to talk to you about this issue, Sammy, don't you think our job is too dangerous? Exorcising demons? It doesn't matter to us, look at the two of us now The life I live, broken and homeless, is not the life of a normal person at all."

Sam said coldly: "I know you're sick now, Dean, so I won't quarrel with you. Now I'm going to investigate that factory. As for you...whether love comes or not."

Dean snorted coldly: "I won't go."

an hour later.

Dean got out of the car sneakily with a flashlight in his hand, looking around vigilantly.

"Let me tell you first, I'm not afraid, I'm just worried that you will be in danger alone."

"Okay, okay, you repeated this sentence more than eight hundred times on the road."

Sam shook his head helplessly and opened the trunk. The spacious trunk is filled with all kinds of munitions and weapons.

"No, this is yours."

Looking at the pistol in front of him, Dean was taken aback, then shook his head vigorously: "This thing is too dangerous, I won't bang it."

Sam said helplessly: "It's filled with salt bombs, which can't kill people, let alone what if there is danger in the factory?"

"That doesn't work either. If it goes off, it will hurt too much." Dean held the flashlight tightly, "I'll just use this."

"whatever."

Sam knew that the current Dean was no longer able to communicate as a normal person. He pouted, took a shotgun, and walked into the wood processing plant in front of him one after the other with Dean.

The police officers were right. There were fresh ruts in the courtyard. It was obvious that goods had been shipped here a few days ago. Judging from the tire marks, the truck is quite heavy.

Sam frowned, picked up a piece of wood from the ground, and under the light of the flashlight in Dean's hand, he found that it was almost exactly the same as the piece of wood that Dean spit out.

Other than that there are no serious scuff marks on it.

It can be confirmed that this place is definitely related to the fear virus circulating in the town.

With surprise in his eyes, Sam led Dean carefully into the factory building. The factory building was in a mess. It was obvious that there had been looting here before it was closed. It was probably done by workers who knew they were about to lose their jobs again.

Dean followed Sam, looking left and right vigilantly with a flashlight. Suddenly he saw a tall black figure at the corner of the wall, and his whole body trembled in fright. Then he lay on Sam's shoulder and dared not look at it.

"It's okay, it's just a canvas."

Reluctantly, Sam stepped forward, stretched out his hand and pulled off the piece of canvas, only to find that there were two stacked wooden boxes covered under the canvas. The wooden planks on the wooden box have not been ordered, and the work has not been completed in a strict sense. Perhaps it is because of this that no one has snatched it away.

Sam patted the wooden box and smiled at Dean: "How are you, are you okay?"

Dean nodded with a pale face, and looked around more nervously. And under the light of his light, Sam suddenly saw a note pressed under the wooden box.

"The small town of Dirrocliffe..."

Sam looked at the handwriting on the note and frowned tightly.

At this moment, Dean suddenly stepped back from Sam, and said in a deep voice, "Someone is coming."

Sure enough, dazzling lights lit up outside the broken workshop window, and someone was indeed coming.

Someone came to this ghost place at this time, and they definitely didn't want to do anything good.

Sam quickly pulled Dean to hide behind a machine tool and looked out carefully.

Fortunately, when I parked the car, I parked the Chevrolet Black Antelope on the small road across the road. It is estimated that no one would have noticed this black light.

With a bang, the workshop door was kicked open.

A person walked in staggeringly, and then Sam saw the other person's appearance clearly under the light of the car lights coming in from the window.

It turned out to be the town sheriff.

I saw that his clothes were torn all over his body, and there were scratches scratched by his nails everywhere. He was carrying a shotgun in his left hand and a gasoline can in his right.

"He wants to destroy the corpse, destroy the scene?"

Sam shook the shotgun in his hand. It was loaded with salt blocks that repelled spirits, not actual bullets. If he confronted the sheriff, he would definitely not be able to spray him.

"This is how to do?"

Sam looked at the sheriff who came in and poured gasoline all around, gritted his teeth, reached out to La Dean, and prepared to attract the sheriff's attention by himself, so that Dean took the opportunity to shoot and knock down the sheriff.

However, he pulled a few times, and Dean, who was hiding behind him, did not respond. Sam looked back helplessly, but saw Dean staring blankly in another direction, with his mouth wide open, he was too scared to make a sound.