The beautiful daily life of Black Light Salted Fish

Nourishes—

When the evenly stirred egg liquid touches the oil pan, the sound is very tempting, not to mention the smell that quickly spreads out and fills the entire room. Room 3309 is of a small size but fully functional, so the kitchen becomes a narrow compartment. Obviously, it was not considered to play a big role at the beginning of the design.

Jessica was naturally not afraid of hot oil splashing. She was humming and cooking tomato scrambled eggs when a woman's lazy voice suddenly came from behind her: "Are you ready?"

"Now you know you're hungry?"

Tapping the pan lightly with the spatula, Jessica rolled her eyes: "Weren't you in high spirits half an hour ago?"

"It's my fault~ But you can't blame me." Michela got close behind her and hugged her waist with both hands: "You are dressed like that, if I don't give you any reaction, don't you think Are you disappointed? Besides, more than one person has praised your figure in news interviews.”

"Really? Dr. Heinzwafen, do you want me to recount what you did? You hid in my room without permission, and when I came back, you kidnapped me at gunpoint and restrained me with handcuffs. Do you know that if you carry a gun without a license, invade a house, illegally detain me... If I call the police, you will go to jail for 10 years at least?"

"Terrible."

A kiss fell gently on the neck.

Feeling Michela's increasingly hot breath, Jessica looked helpless: "Stop making trouble, I still have dishes to cook, unless you want to postpone lunch for half an hour."

Half an hour later.

Click!

The camera shutter sounded, Michela glanced at the camera and continued to deal with her portion of tomato scrambled egg rice. There were several empty plates on the table, and now there were basically only leftovers, and nothing like salt and pepper barbecue was left. Jessica took out the film from the Leica M6, replaced it with a new one, and then put the original roll into a small jar: "Why are you so awkward? Why weren't you shy just now?"

"Aren't you taking pictures too?"

"Yes, yes, someone said at the beginning that he would not be photographed even if he was beaten to death."

Ms. Drew held her face up and licked the sauce on the spoon with her tongue: "How about getting a darkroom in the apartment you rent? We have already taken seven or eight rolls, but not even a single photo has been developed. Come out, I'm worried that those photo albums may become moldy."

"You can just say you want to develop the latest roll." Miss Butterfly Knife said, feeling a little hot, so she simply took off her only vest: "Or you can give me the film first, and I will do it when you walk out of this door later. Burn them and throw the ashes down the drain."

"Are you really willing to burn it?"

"why not?"

"Even if there are so many memories of us in it?"

"It depends on that little mouth of yours, so be careful with your language. And seriously, you hid them well, I don't want anyone else to find out one day." Michela grabbed the beer can and drank. Taking a few big bites: "Maybe we'd better burn it."

"I'm going to buy a new camera."

"......ah?"

"Ah what? Think about it, Mr. Watson, Miss Watson and Ms. Drew all use the same camera. If someone finds out, wouldn't it be a clue?" Jessica didn't want to let go of teasing her girlfriend. Opportunity: "Dr. Heinzwafen, have you noticed that you haven't been able to think straight lately?"

"Maybe it was infected by Miss Watson. You know she has no brain."

"I can be brainless if you want."

Jessica looked at her with a smile.

"No, one fool is enough." After Michela said this, she couldn't help laughing. At this moment, a cat meowed from outside. The two turned around and saw a cat head emerging from the window sill on the side of the emergency escape staircase. They turned their heads and looked around, trying to find the entrance.

"Oh, it's Dede." Jessica stood up, opened the window sill, and brought the short-haired cat in: "Maybe it smelled the aroma of the food. This little greedy cat... I really want to raise some in the future. Pets, dear. If you don’t like long hair, how about raising a few turtles? You won’t starve to death for ten days and a half.”

"I don't like animals."

Michela said something leisurely, but as soon as Dede was brought in by Jessica, she immediately meowed when she saw Miss Butterfly Knife, her hair stood up and she started struggling. Ms. Drew let go of her hand, and Dede immediately ran back, jumped to the window sill, and huddled up, purring.

"Look." Dr. Heinzwafen spread his hands.

"I suspect that you actually have some superpower that you haven't told me." Jessica came up to her and leaned against the edge of the table: "For example, are you particularly afraid of small animals, or are you particularly fond of me? Did you secretly activate your superpower on me, the one that makes me love you more every day?”

"This sounds more like yours." Michela stood up and gently hugged her girlfriend's waist: "But you still need to keep working hard, Ms. Drew, I am almost starting to forget Mr. Watson."

"Meow..."

Seeing her new friend and the scary big guy stuck together, Dede was very worried, but she didn't dare to step forward to help the other party fight, so she could only continue to huddle on the window sill. The levitating cloak quickly floated over and teased the cat. This trick was very effective. Not long after, seeing that the big guy never came close, Dede was driven by curiosity to divert her attention.

Compared to the quiet room 3309, the rain outside the window has been falling all day and night, and it still shows no signs of stopping at this moment. Night gradually fell, casting a layer of dim moonlight over the hazy King's Road in rain and fog. For most London residents, it was another peaceful night.

Until there was a flash of fire in the night sky.

Although this brief moment was not witnessed by many people, when a burning plane plummeted towards the city, things inevitably escalated further. Compared to the London police, reporters from major news stations and newspapers were the first to arrive at the scene, with their cameras focused on the burning wreckage in the woods.

But hundreds of kilometers away, the atmosphere in a certain conference room was heavy. A man in military uniform was sitting in the main seat, leaning forward, letting the shadow cast by the light cover his eyes. Dense crowds of people's voices penetrated the door panel, occasionally mixed with phone rings, but he remained silent and waited quietly for a few minutes before the door panel was finally pushed open by a hand.

"Sir Bradford."

"Sir William." The man in military uniform turned his head and stared firmly at the other man's face, which was slightly out of breath from walking quickly: "Please tell me, is there anything I don't know?"

"Which aspect do you mean?"

"This plane."

"Don't you think we should take action first? Sir Bradford, time is urgent." The man named William unbuttoned his suit jacket, sat down and took out a thermos flask, with no trace of trace on his face. Anxious: "When will your people arrive at the scene? Don't worry, we will definitely cooperate this time."

"Then tell me what was in the plane that crashed into the river." Bradford leaned forward to reveal his scarred right eye: "My people will be in place within 10 minutes." , you don’t have to worry about on-site processing, you know what I want to ask, William, is it related to Umbrella?”

"Um, I'm afraid..."

"Don't use that bureaucratic rhetoric on me."

Bradford interrupted: "You know very well why I want to ask you, William. If your answer doesn't satisfy me, I won't be the one asking you next time."

"Of course, I know very well."

William also calmed down his casual expression and took out a document from his briefcase: "Well, we actually have a complete response plan. This operation has been authorized. Don't worry, the responsibility does not lie with you. You just need to follow the plan Execution, I’m talking about the part of the plan that involves you, and we will take care of the rest.”

"...What does prohibiting the use of explosives mean? What is secret processing? Which damn idiot made this plan?" Bradford took it and took a look at it, and quickly frowned: " Do you think you can kill BOW (biological weapons) by sending a few people with them? I will never accept it!"

"Hey, I didn't say there was a BOW on the plane." William waved his hand: "It's just that in terms of threat level, there are some similarities in attributes, but not all. And that's why we set up this special response department, we are all Trust your abilities and you will definitely find a way.”

"Do you know what will happen if the mission fails?"

The scarred man got closer to the other person's face: "This is London."

"Then let's pray."

Shrugging his shoulders, William pushed another piece of paper: "I pray that things will not develop to this point."

Looking at the paper, Bradford fell into silence.

"Please, don't do this, Bradford, you know national defense, we have always pursued this policy." William raised his left palm slightly and quickly took it back: "The key is not that the country is protected, the key is to make the people believe They are protected, so yes, the problem with this plane must be dealt with secretly. On the bright side, it is not that bad at all. As long as you can succeed, that is the best outcome, and I guarantee you will get accordingly. "Return."

"William."

"Please say?"

"you can go now."

"No problem, I'm waiting for your good news, General."

Click!

Silence fell in the conference room again. Bradford looked at the piece of paper and quickly dialed a number on his mobile phone. After a brief beep, there was a response from the other end: "Hello?"

"John."

"General Bradford?" The man's voice on the other end of the phone was steady. Although there were occasional gunshots in the background, you could not hear any mood swings on his part: "Every time you contact me directly, nothing good happens. What else will happen? Trouble? It's best not underwater."

"I need you to lead a team to land in London."

"......What?"