Conan’s Toast Does Not Eat Fine Wine

Obtaining intelligence in missions is one of the most basic qualities of a killer.

Originally, Shinshige knew almost nothing about the situation around the target, but he leaned on Takeshita’s mother and daughter into the apartment, and by the way judged that she was not a single mother from the "beer" and "men's cotton socks" purchased by Mrs. Takeshita. Borrow the elevator information, etc., to piece together a complete identity.

This identity may not be perfect, but it is enough to just knock on the door of the target.

The goal really opened the door.

When he saw Xinfan empty-handed, he immediately realized something and quickly closed the door. However, it was too late at this time, Xinfan had already grabbed the door frame, and could not compete with the power of the target.

"Mr. Hanoi, how about let's talk?" Xin Fan's attitude is very polite. It seems that he is really just a guest who has just moved in and wants to make a good relationship with his neighbors.

Large swaths of cold sweat leaked from the target's forehead.

He knew he was imminent and he was about to end!

In the next second, Xinfan had already walked into the apartment along the crack of the door.

The room is very messy. It can be seen that the owner never cleans up the house, perhaps because he knows that he will not stay here for long.

Xinfan noticed a flash of light outside the window where the curtains were not drawn. It was the moonlight reflected by the scope of the sniper rifle. Chianti climbed on the roof next to him, aiming the sight at the target person. The so-called control vision is actually to prevent the failure of the Mezcal mission.

Sorry.

Xinfan sighed silently, at the same time, he had already pulled out the pistol.

The pupils of the target suddenly enlarged: "Don't, don't kill me!"

He wept bitterly and begged for mercy, but the strange man in front of him didn't give him this chance at all. He was like a heartless robot. He couldn't see his sorrow, his despair, and his life was worthless in his eyes.

"Don't kill me!" The target threw a fright and knelt to the ground, "I won't run away! I continue to paint! I will do whatever you want me to do! Don't kill me! I have a wife and children! My child is only one year old. what!!"

While begging, he crawled backwards desperately.

And the sound of Mezcal's leather shoes buckling on the floor was like a reminder of the underworld, always surrounding his ears, making him frightened.

Xinfan's expression was originally calm, but when he heard the target say that his child was only one year old, an unbearable light flashed across his eyes.

But Xinfan knew that he had no choice.

So Mezcal raised his pistol at the target, and the black hole muzzle was aimed at the target's brain. He could end the fragile life of this person by simply pulling the trigger.

Seeing that no matter how much he begged for mercy, the goal couldn't shake the other party's determination, and she shed tears of regret or despair.

His whole body's strength was instantly drained, and he could only fall to the ground. Despite this, his eyes were always fixed in one direction, and there was resentment and resentment on his face.

"You demons who are devoid of conscience! You do all the bad things, and one day you will be condemned by God! Wait! Hahaha, I just go one step ahead, your fate is definitely worse than mine! I will wait in **** You!!!" He laughed loudly and presumptuously, and tears poured out from the corner of his eyes.

"boom--"

Even with the silencer, the huge gunfire rang in the small room. The recoil of the pistol forced Xinfan's body to tremble, and he took a half step back.

A blood flower mixed with muddy brain exploded on the target's head, splashing the floor and walls everywhere.

On the tall buildings in the distance, Chianti clearly saw what was happening in the apartment from the scope.

She curled her lips boredly: "I don't have a chance to shoot again."

Immediately, he put his left hand on the headset and reported to the Gin Wine Exchange: "The target has been resolved by Mezcal and confirmed to be dead."

"Retreat." Gin's instructions were short and clear. Considering that Mezcal might not have heard the end, he repeated it to him on the other side of the communication, "Retreat from the apartment immediately."

However, there was silence in the earphones, and there was no sound.

Gin frowned, and his voice became colder: "Mezcal?"

In the apartment, Xinfan reacted. He recovered a little, and said dumbly, "Well, I see."

The target's blood dripped non-stop, gradually flowing from where he fell to the soles of Xinfan's feet. The sticky blood stained his shoes and pulled his heart toward the endless abyss.

"The 37th." Xinfan whispered as he watched the dead man.

Except for those who died indirectly because of him, this was the thirty-seventh person he killed with his own hands. He went through the same process thirty-seven times.

He thought his heart was as cold as ice, but when he witnessed death again, he inevitably shook his mind.

Can the value created by Mezcal, an undercover agent for the public security, be worth the 37 lives?

Life should not be measured by quantity, but in reality, no one can truly achieve absolute justice.

Xinfan cleaned up all the traces he had left, including the blood stains on the soles of his shoes. Mingyue outside the window seemed to have noticed the tragedy happening here, and also wept for it. The thick dark clouds covered the only light in the night, leaving only the suffocating darkness.

He found the template from the target, turned around and planned to leave, just like the previous thirty-six times.

However, the eyes of the man who fell in the pool of blood had clearly lost the light, but he still stared firmly in a certain direction. Following his gaze, a photo caught Xinfan's eyes.

The background of the photo is a green grass. A beautiful and gentle woman sits on her knees and smiles dependantly at the man beside her ~www.readwn.com~ and she is holding a young baby in her arms.

If there is no organization, what should this frustrated painter do now?

Probably living an ordinary and happy life with his wife and children. There is no luxurious apartment, but the small house will be made warm and tidy by the virtuous wife; there is no expensive suit, but the cotton jacket sewn by the wife will exude a faint soapy fragrance; there is no cool and exciting work, but it can be used every day In the afternoon, I saw a smiling child at the entrance of the kindergarten.

He could have had such a life, but everything ended in...

Xinfan looked down at his hands, a wry smile exuded from the corners of his mouth.

He turned around.

At that moment, all the emotions that shouldn't exist in his eyes disappeared. He is Mezcal, the Mezcal of the night, the heartless Mezcal.

"The mission was successfully completed and we have retreated safely." Xinfan reported on the headset so indifferently.