The beautiful daily life of Black Light Salted Fish

Eastern Europe, Serbian capital Belgrade, Lannister International Building.

"Good morning! Levin."

"Good morning, sir."

"Haha, don't call me that again, I've been retired for a long time."

In the same spacious office, operations director Levine sat on the sofa chair and greeted his old superior. An old man with a cane was sitting on the sofa. He had a short haircut, a hooked nose, a brown casual suit, and a thin figure. However, there were several scars scattered across his jaw and neck.

Seeing the hand in front of him, Levin hesitated, took out a cigarette and handed it over. The old man immediately struck a match and puffed out the smoke skillfully. Levin looked at the old officer, and the scene in the military camp seemed to appear again in front of his eyes, with familiar movements and familiar expressions. It's just that he is in his prime, but the other party is already old.

"what did the doctor say?"

"what?"

"I mean, your body."

"I've lived long enough, boy." The old man took off his cigarette and coughed violently for a while: "I can live safely to 70 years old in this business. It's all about earning money. No matter what day God suddenly decides to take me away, I It doesn’t matter.”

Seeing that Levine remained silent, he took the initiative to change the subject: "Let's talk about this contract, Levine. I brought you out single-handedly. I believe you must have already figured it out."

"They're called the 'Wolves'."

Levin was silent for a moment, then took out a folder from the drawer and opened it: "The captain is a woman who calls herself 'Luper', which means 'wolf' in Italian. I haven't found out the specific identity of this woman yet, but I found information on two other members of their team, look at this."

He pointed to two of the photos: "This bald man's code name is 'Beltway', and his real name is Hector Shivers. He was born in the Free State of Puerto Rico. He was once an engineer in the federal army. A landmine blew up his calf. So he was forced to retire from the army. And this guy, I only found out that his code name was 'Ghost', and he was a Soviet... Oh no, he should be called a Russian now. You know, after the former Soviet Union officially disintegrated, A large number of personnel and armaments are being lost to the outside world, and these guys can be regarded as one of the main mercenaries."

After pausing for a few seconds, Levine pulled out another page from the bottom of the folder: "And the one we are most concerned about...the death knell."

"Death knell?"

The old man held the cigarette filter in his mouth and took a deep breath: "It's a strange code name."

"It was he who caused the major loss of life."

Levin stopped telling, leaned back in his chair, and lit a cigarette himself: "However, we know nothing about him, name, age, place of birth, nothing. Fortunately, the Wolf Pack team last time The mission was in Paris, France, and we have some image records. However, this gang will bring some non-staff members with them every time they act, and I have not yet been able to determine who is Deathstroke."

The room fell into silence. Neither of the two men spoke, and they silently finished smoking the cigarettes in their hands. Levin looked at his old commander, who squinted his eyes as if he was asleep. It took him a while before he spoke slowly:

"Three men, three women, and a superhuman. This is an interesting combination."

“What was the reaction from the customers?”

Hearing Levin's question, the scar on the old man's neck trembled: "They want to join in revenge. We will provide the people and equipment, but the budget has increased five times."

"It seems that this Daniel is very important to the customer."

"really."

----------

Stealth is a profound knowledge.

You have to be careful with every step you take and every sound you hear.

For a rookie, he will worry about the noise made by the objects on his body; for a veteran, he can easily integrate with the environment with the help of light. Even if noise is unavoidable, he will choose the opportunity carefully. But in Miss Watson's eyes, sneaking is equivalent to not wearing any clothes——

There was really no movement at all.

The small, flexible tentacles tightly wrap around the equipment to avoid possible shaking sounds. In order to cover up the traces, she took off her upper body to only a vest, and tied the camouflage jacket around her waist. In this way, the skin on the back can directly contact the gun body, and the tentacles can fix the rifle with just a slight protrusion, and no one will notice it.

Compared with the small villages in the Congolese jungle, the Kijuju Autonomous Region obviously has more lighting equipment. This may be due to the investment of the Umbrella Group. There are many industrial areas around the town, such as ports, oil fields, mines, and the rudimentary railway transportation system that matches them. Moreover, the Umbrella Company has continued its "excellent tradition" and hired many local residents in the surrounding areas to create an African version of Raccoon City.

Obviously, umbrella companies will never actually do charity.

Not only did they secretly arrest people for experiments, they also released viruses and biochemical weapons in some villages. In 1994, an infection got out of control, and USS troops had to use heavy firepower to level a certain village. From this point of view, it is not surprising that the Umbrella Company was willing to bring the entire city to destruction during the 97 Raccoon City crisis.

The time in the game "Resident Evil 5" is probably around 2009. The residents that players see are basically infected with the improved Plaka parasite, and they can only scream and kill indiscriminately. But nothing has happened yet. This peaceful and life-filled town does give Miss Watson a lot of weirdness.

A motorcycle approaches from around the corner.

The old engine makes a clanging noise, which is very recognizable.

This was a man with bare feet and half a deer on the back seat. He looked like he might be a butcher. When the headlights passed by, Miss Watson emerged from the corner. She originally planned to continue being the Spider-Man on the rooftop, but the wires here seemed to have been put up privately, and they were conveniently placed, and some dense areas were as scary as bird's nests, and they would bump into her if they were not careful.

call out!

The tentacles pulled her body, and Miss Watson soared into the sky in the night, and landed on the outer wall of a three-story building with precision. This location is close to the edge of town and there are no electric lights. She took out the compass and checked it. Her destination was in the northwest. If the game flow is followed, players would have to chase the arms dealer Erwin for most of the circle around the town. However, Miss Watson does not need to follow the order of the levels. She plans to pass through the swamps upstream of the river and reach the underground city of the Endipaya civilization.

As Miss Watson was contemplating whether to steal the car, she saw a pattern on a telephone pole.

supplier?

This is a common practice in the field of suppliers in the mercenary industry. In order to facilitate the mercenaries performing tasks around the world, suppliers usually mark their stores. Especially those hidden in residential areas. If you don't do this, there will be no way for customers to find the location.

Of course, they don't care who the customer is.

I can only say that since you recognize the sign and have the courage to come to the door, there is no reason not to do this business. But on the other hand, sometimes things are worse. Especially some suppliers who do not have industry certification will carefully look at their customers. If they seem not to be bullied, they will do business normally; if they are easy to bully, then these people may become bandits.

Boom boom boom!

Following the directions to a remote house, Miss Watson reached out and knocked on the door.

His keen hearing captured the movement. After more than ten seconds, a shirtless black man poked his head out from the crack in the door, aiming vaguely at the gun in his hand. His eyes were very wary, but they changed immediately the second he saw Miss Watson. His eyes went down from his neck to his chest, and after a while he moved up with great effort: "Hi! Beauty!"

This English is really non-standard.

"Do you sell guns or cars?"

"Everything is OK! Come in quickly."

The black man stepped aside, with a flattering smile on his face, as if he didn't care about the weapons on Miss Watson: "You are so sexy, damn, today is definitely my lucky day. Hey! Brothers! Come and see, we have guests!”

He then switched to another language and started shouting inside.

Miss Watson recognized it. It seemed to be Swahili.

Several people sitting on the sofa watching TV turned around and were stunned. The series of extremely aggressive and fiery gazes cast on her gave Miss Watson a familiar feeling of déjà vu. The last time she went to buy bullets from that "Eagle", the black people in the room had the same look. Now these guys had better be more sensible, she was too lazy to do anything.

"I need a map and a car with a full tank of gas."

Click!

The door was gently closed behind him.

"I don't know what the going price is here, just this number." Miss Watson acted as if nothing happened. She took out a few U.S. dollars from her pocket and handed them over: "Or you can tell me a price, and I'll consider it. one time."

The black man came up from behind and reached for the money. He made a small circle, his eyes still fixed on Miss Watson's face, which was covered by a wide-brimmed hat and a kerchief. On the other end of the sofa, his companions were talking in Swahili without restraint. This time Miss Watson probably understood part of it. Those people were commenting on their figures.

But she doesn't care.

The picture on the TV is more attractive.

A concert was playing on the screen, and the band's guitarist was showing off his skills under the lights. His fingertips quickly clicked on the fretboard of the electric guitar, and a fast-paced solo played. Miss Watson walked around the sofa and looked closely at the picture with unclear signal, and finally remembered that this was a band she loved to listen to in her previous life.

How about I also find time to play in a band?

I've always wanted to do this my whole life.

"Hey! Beauty!"

Miss Watson turned around and saw those people raising their guns towards her. The leader with the dreadlocks grinned from the corner of his mouth to his ears: "This little money is not enough. I mean, since you came here alone, , you also know what will happen. Come on, put down the gun on your body, take off your clothes, and do it quickly!"

"...Isn't it good to collect money to do things?"

After a moment of silence, Miss Watson bent down again and turned up the volume button on the TV: "I really hope you can be more professional."

......

Two minutes later.

"(Swahili) Map...engine...done."

After throwing two tanks of gasoline into the trunk, Miss Watson gently turned the switch, and the two-seater jeep underneath her started smoothly. When she went downstairs, the hood of the vehicle had not even been closed. Fortunately, she had just absorbed a lot of memories. This time Miss Watson not only found the car, but also wiped out the weapons, ammunition and supplies from this amateur supplier.

The jeep drove onto the street and headed out of town without even turning on its lights.

After traveling for more than two hundred meters, the wheels turned and drove onto a small slope covered with garbage. The locals always find a way to avoid the checkpoints. After passing through this garbage dump, there is a desert ahead.