40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 49 49. Rainy Night Work

Philosophy is one of the causes of mental problems, but reality is even scarier.

Khalil lowered his head, and there was a mixed unpleasant smell in his nose.

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

The emaciated corpses of workers who had coughed to death on hard beds by the roadside would be piled up and burned one after another.

Human muscle and tissue burned similar to the beef in Khalil's long memory, the fat felt greasy, and the skin crackled like burning charcoal.

The hair smells the worst, like a sulfur smell several times stronger. The process usually begins with the smell of charcoal and sulfur, followed by the muscle tissue. Finally, there are the internal organs, at which point the smell can become extremely foul.

Khalil looked away, the fire burning in his eyes disappearing.

The workers wouldn't eat the corpses, but that doesn't mean no one tried, it's just that those who did died later.

Nowadays, they just eat the nutritional ointment distributed based on this scene. Similar people are crackling in the fire, and hundreds of dark figures are eating nutritious ointment in dilapidated shanties or streets.

Once you see this kind of scene, you will never forget it.

He turned around, jumped up, and started running through the darkness. The Purge has entered a seven-day countdown, and the gangs are becoming increasingly restless, especially within Quintus.

The streets are full of minions patrolling their territory with eager eyes, while the leaders are having tense discussions in the basement or inside the building.

The existence of the vengeful spirit is no longer a secret. Khalil has been unprecedentedly high-profile recently, and even deliberately left many evidences of his existence.

However, this is not what the gangs care about most at the moment. The cause of their unrest stemmed from the destruction of House Skolywok.

The Scolewok family, which had planned to take control of the entire hive once and for all, was destroyed - and the gangs learned the news through their own information channels.

At a time when most large and medium-sized gangs have sworn allegiance to the Scollewock family, this explosive and horrific fact simply breaks their hearts.

Of course, bad things happen one after another.

It's not that no gangs tried to switch to other big families, but the news they received caused everyone to fall into a terrible silence.

There is no such thing as a ‘big family’ anymore.

All the families who had the ability to promise the future to the gangs died one night, and the remaining nobles were busy fighting each other and competing for territory.

The upper nest has never been so chaotic. The quiet night in the past has now been completely torn to pieces. The nobles wearing silk and applying makeup, armed with guns, excitedly plundered the vacant titles and status.

As for the big purge of the lower nest and the desires of the gangs.

Who cares?

Even the gangs themselves don't know whether the purge in seven days will be held as scheduled. They knew what day it was, and they had been preparing intensively during this period, but

If the noble families who were the sponsors disappeared, would this event still need to be held?

If they asked Khalil, Khalil would tell them, yes.

necessary.

He jumped over the silver spire and patted Midnight Ghost's Gargoyle No. 13 as a greeting.

The iron monster stared silently at his disappearance in the darkness. Half a minute later, a drop of turbid rain fell from a high altitude and shattered into pieces on its head. There were faint sounds of gunfire coming from three blocks away.

The gargoyle was unmoved.

——

It's raining.

This incident made Charles, who was in charge of patrol, very irritated. He didn't like rainy days and never had. Even though it rains almost five days a week in Quintus, he just doesn't like it.

In the past, he would complain about it endlessly to his only friend.

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

He would keep complaining about it until Mao couldn't help but point a gun at him and tell him to shut up, and he would shut up with satisfaction.

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

Thinking of this, the pale young man smiled nervously.

A strange muscle twitch appeared on the face that had been destroyed by chemicals in the next second, and his smile began to grow wider and wider until it became a terrible spasm.

"Damn it."

He grunted and without hesitation punched himself in the nose - a horrific move that not only made his nose crooked and bleed, it also stopped the convulsions in his face.

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

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

If he could turn the time back to a year ago, he wouldn't like injecting this drug named 'Quick', but he had to do it.

Injecting it, and surviving all subsequent symptoms, were the only requirements for joining his gang. A year later, if he didn't inject a cracker every six hours, he'd develop 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 mumble, a low chattering sound coming from his throat, his eyes rolled up, and he almost unconsciously leaned against the edge of the wall - he almost forgot who he was.

This is what Kuai Ke is like, it will make you become a person who forgets his or her last name. His fingers began to twitch nervously, and a familiar touch returned, the first time he killed someone.

He cut a man's throat with a knife and then tore it open. The sticky feeling of flesh and blood left Charles indifferent. He just wanted to finish it quickly.

Wait, who is Charles?

"Mao, I want to die so much. It's no fun joining a gang."

He heard someone say in a deep voice. "Other than killing, that's killing. What's the point of killing? I just want to wear better clothes and eat better. I don't want to beat fast food."

"Quick customer?" A voice sounded.

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

His consciousness and eyesight have been damaged by Kuai Ke to a point where it is almost impossible to recover. He will not return to normal until the effects of the drug pass.

Therefore, he had no idea who was actually talking to him.

"Quick." The broken consciousness said. "Quick, I hate it so much."

"I think I can probably see why," the voice said lowly.

The heavy rain poured down, smashing into pieces and falling apart on the buildings overhead, making a huge noise. The dirt on the road is gradually washed away by acid rain, but it won't take long for acid rain to form new dirt.

The cycle goes on and on, nothing more than that.

"I want to die, Mao," said the broken consciousness. "I can't live anymore. I don't want to kill anyone. 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 cannot be regarded as rest for people like you."

"Who is talking?" the broken consciousness asked suspiciously.

He was still hitting the wall, the back of his head was bleeding, and the gaps in the masonry were filled with his blood.

"Is this important?" the voice asked. "You just want to die."

"Ah, yes."

The broken consciousness answered unconsciously - he had no idea where he was at the moment, and he had no idea who was talking to him. However, he didn't lie.

He was too dazed to lie.

"I want to die," he said. "Anyone can kill me. Then kill Kuai Ke too."

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

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

"life?"

"life."

"What about me? Do I have a life?"

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

He had a pale face, and the bruises left by violence were so obvious on it. Blood was still dripping down his nose, his eyes were dull, and there was nothing in his dark eyes. The corners of his mouth were twitching nervously, and he was banging the back of his head against the wall.

A microcosm.

"You did before," Khalil said.

He stretched out his hand, and a dull sound followed. A corpse fell to the ground like this. He was still under the influence of Quick before his death. He would not know who killed him.

In fact, he knew nothing at all.

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

He had to deal with four gangs tonight, and this number was carefully planned. He will finish 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 scions of the Skolevok family were hung up from the tower of the Glory Overseer, gangs have been quietly disappearing every day along this twenty-five-story tower.

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

Efficiency is always important. Khalil thought.

He broke through the rain curtain and stepped into a low building. There was music vibrating under my feet, and there was a roar of people. A narrow passage stretched down before him, its walls filthy and glistening with graffiti of blood and grime.

The stench caused by the gathering of too many people permeated the air, and combined with the smell of acid rain, formed a terrifying and powerful smell.

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 inside.

The night is still long, but not for long.