40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 49 49. Working in the Rainy Night
Philosophy is one of the triggers for mental problems, but the reality is much scarier.

Khalil lowered his head, and a mixed unpleasant smell came from his nasal cavity.

He knew where the smell was coming from—in a shanty town 300 meters away, workers were burning bodies.

The bony corpses of workers who coughed to death on hard plank beds by the side of the road were piled up and burned one after the other.

Human muscle and tissue burn like beef in Khalil's distant memory, fat feels greasy, and skin crackles like burning charcoal.

Hair smells the worst, like a sulfurous smell several times stronger.The process usually starts with the smell of charcoal and sulfur, and then the muscle tissue.And finally the internal organs, by which time the smell can get really foul.

Khalil looked away, and the burning fire in his eyes disappeared.

The workers wouldn't eat the corpses, but that doesn't mean no one tried, just because the ones who did have died later.

Up to now, they are just eating the nutrition paste handed out based on this picture.The same kind crackled in the fire, and hundreds of black shadows shared the nourishing ointment in the dilapidated shantytown or on the street.

This kind of picture, as long as you see it once, you will never forget it.

He turned, jumped, and started running in the dark.The purge has entered a seven-day countdown, and the gangs are becoming more and more restless, especially in Quintus.

The streets are full of minions patrolling their territory, while the chiefs are negotiating nervously in the basement or in the building.

The existence of the Vengeful Spirit is no longer a secret. Khalil has been making an unprecedented high-profile recently, and even deliberately left a lot of evidence of his existence.

However, this is not what the gangs are most concerned about at present.The cause of their turmoil stems from the fall of the Scolevoker family.

The Scolevokers, who had planned to take control of the hive once and for all, had been destroyed - the news came to the gangs through their own sources.

At a time when the vast majority of large and medium-sized gangs have sworn allegiance to the Scolewalker family, this terrifying fact of the explosion will almost break their hearts.

Of course, bad things always happen one after another.

It's not that the gang tried to switch to other big families, but the news they got sent everyone into a terrible silence.

There is no such thing as a 'big family' anymore.

All the families who were able to promise the future to the gangs died one night, and the remaining nobles are now busy biting each other and fighting for territory.

The upper nest has never been so chaotic. The peaceful night in the past is now completely torn apart. The nobles dressed in silk and smeared with powder held guns and excitedly plundered the vacated titles and status.

As for the purge of the nest, and the gang's cravings.
Who cares?
Even the gangs themselves don't know whether the purge will be held in seven days.They knew what day it was, and they had been making intensive preparations during this time, but
If the aristocratic families who were the founders disappeared, is it still necessary to hold this event?
If they came to ask Khalil, Khalil would tell them, yes.

necessary.

He jumped over the silver spire, and patted No. 13 gargoyle of Midnight Ghost as a greeting.

The iron monster stared silently at his disappearance in the darkness, and half a minute later, a cloudy drop of rain fell from the sky and shattered on top of its head.There was the faint sound of gunfire from three blocks away.

The gargoyle was unmoved.
-
It's raining.

The incident upset Charles, who was in charge of the patrol, and he didn't like rainy days, never did.Although it rains almost five days a week, Quintus just doesn't like it.

In the past, he'd complained about it non-stop to his only friend.

"Rain makes the air very humid, Mao, don't you think?"

He'd blather on and on about it until Mao couldn't resist pointing a gun at him and telling him to shut up, and then he was satisfied.

He loved the way his only friend pointed a gun at him, for no reason, just loved it.

Thinking of this, the pale young man smiled nervously.

A weird muscular twitch was born on the chemically ravaged face in the next second, and his smile began to widen until it became a terrible spasm.

"Damn."

With a grunt, he punched himself on the nose without hesitation—a horrific move that, in addition to making his nose crooked and bleeding, stopped the spasms in his face.

Charles shook his head helplessly, took out an injection from his pocket, and injected himself.

The turbid chemicals disappeared into the needle little by little, followed by sensitive senses and chaotic perception.Time stretched out in his perception, Charles shook his head unconsciously, leaned against the wall and started banging the back of his head against it.

If he went back a year, he wouldn't have liked the shot called 'crack', but he had to.

Injecting it, and surviving all subsequent symptoms, were the only conditions for joining his gang.A year later, if he didn't get a crack shot every six hours, he was having muscle cramps.

"Mao, I hate the rain," he muttered, leaning against the wall.

Even though he was banging the back of his head against the wall, Charles felt no pain at all.

He continued to grunt, with a low, chattering sound in his throat, rolled his eyes up, and leaned himself against the edge of the wall almost unconsciously—he almost forgot who he was.

That's what crackers are, and they make you a person who forgets your last name.His fingers began to twitch nervously, and a familiar touch returned, the first time he had killed someone.

He cut a man's throat with a knife and ripped it apart.Charles was indifferent to the sticky touch of blood and flesh, and he just wanted to finish it quickly
Wait, who is Charles?

"Mao, I really want to die, it's so boring to join a gang."

He heard someone speaking in a low voice. "In addition to killing people, it's killing people. What's the point of killing people? I just want to dress better and eat better. I don't want to be a cheater."

"Quick?" A voice called out.

The man named Charles nodded unconsciously, his nose was bleeding.They gurgled, intertwined with the rain, across his broken face, and extended down.

His consciousness and vision have been destroyed by crack to a point where it is almost impossible to recover. Unless the effect of the medicine wears off, he will not return to normal.

Therefore, he has no idea who the hell is talking to him.

"Quick," said Shattered Consciousness. "Quick, I hate it so much."

"I think I can see why," said the voice in a low voice.

The heavy rain poured down, shattering the building above the head, falling apart, and making a loud noise.The dirt on the road surface was gradually washed away by the acid rain, but it didn't take long for the acid rain to form new dirt.

The cycle goes on and on, nothing more.

"I want to die, Mao," said the broken consciousness. "I can't live anymore, I don't want to kill people, I really don't want to."

"Do you really want to die?" the voice asked. "The process of death is not beautiful, and its ending is not a rest for a person like you."

"Who's talking?" the broken consciousness asked suspiciously.

He was still hitting the wall, the back of his head was bleeding, and the cracks in the masonry were full of his blood.

"Does it matter?" the voice asked. "You just want to die."

"Ah, yes."

The broken consciousness answered subconsciously—he had no idea of ​​where he was at the moment, nor did he know who was talking to him.However, he didn't lie.

He was too dazed to lie.

"I want to die," he said. "Anyone is fine, kill me. Then kill the quick guest."

"Crack is a chemical, it's lifeless."

That deep voice said so in the rain. "I can only kill living things."

"life?"

"life."

"What about me? Am I alive?"

In the heavy rain, Khalil stared at the person who asked the question.

He had a pale face, and the bruises from the violence were so obvious.The blood was still dripping down the nose, the eyes were dull, and there was nothing in the dark eyes.The corner of his mouth was twitching nervously, and he kept banging the back of his head against the wall.

A microcosm.

"You used to," Khalil said.

He stretched out his hand, followed by a slightly dull sound.A corpse just fell to the ground, he was still under the influence of cracker before he died, he will not know who killed him.

In fact, he didn't know anything at all.

Khalil raised his head, glanced at the scattered sky cut by stacked buildings and neon lights, and left the alley.

He had four gangs to deal with tonight, a number that had been carefully planned.He will deal with everything within six hours and end the day's work.

In fact, if anyone had investigated his movements, they would have discovered one thing.

Ever since the two heirs of the Scolevoker family were hoisted from the high tower of the Warlord of Glory, along the 25-storey tower, gangs disappeared quietly every day.

If things continue at the current pace, on the day of the purge, there will be no gangs within four blocks of the Tower.

Efficiency is always important.Khalil thought.

He smashed through the rain curtain and stepped into a low building.There is the vibration of music under the feet, and the sound of people is loud.A narrow hallway stretched down before him, the walls grimy and graffiti gleaming with blood and grime.

The stench caused by the gathering of too many people permeated the air, and combined with the smell of acid rain, it formed a terrible smell with a strong impact.

Khalil seemed unmoved.

A cold blue light flashed in his eyes, and the walls began to twist. The building materials that made them melted in a few seconds and turned into boiling hot liquid. However, the basic structure of the building was not affected. .

Khalil closed his eyes.

Now, the corridor can accommodate him.

Opening his eyes, he walked in.

The night is still long, but not too long.

(End of this chapter)