40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 617 3. The most familiar job

Putting on his coat, gloves, and scarf, Khalil lowered his head to check his clothes. After confirming that everything was normal, he stretched out his hand to open the door of his room and walked out.

The polished gray bricks and his boots collided with each other, making a deliberately dull echo.

A window at the end of the corridor was still open, and two idle men were smoking there. The cigarettes and pipes flashed red, illuminating the rising clouds of smoke in the dim light.

They noticed Khalil's arrival, and one of them took out a box of cigarettes from his arms, held it in his hand, and made an invitation gesture to him. Khalil politely declined them and then went straight downstairs.

There were some ordinary landscape paintings hanging on the red wallpaper in the stairwell. Only one painting was worth mentioning. It was an oil painting, in which the miners with blurred faces were advancing in the dark in the mine. It was dark ahead, but behind them were the lights of torches and lanterns.

He went down all the way to the first floor, passed through a small hall, and left the "Best of the Best" hotel through the back door. It was already night, but there were no colorful neon lights in the city, which seemed very quiet.

The street lights were constantly on, but there were not many people on the street. The biting cold wind made people not want to go out and relax on such a night. Moreover, the social atmosphere in Banjo-1 seemed to be more conservative, and most people would not choose to hang out in those "entertainment venues".

Very old-fashioned. Khalil thought.

At this time, he was already standing on a street corner outside the hotel, with his hands in his pockets, staring at the night idly.

The few pedestrians did not know that the tall man was counting the seconds and exhaling white mist that seemed to be hot air. They also didn't know that there was an invisible network operating, transmitting all the wind and grass in the entire city to this person.

Two minutes later, Khalil left here and stepped into the dark night.

He knew where he was going, as always. When doing this job, almost nothing could make him feel confused. After all, the essence of this matter can be summed up in one word-killing.

He may not have much say in leading troops to fight and repairing damaged servitors, but what about killing?

It's ironic that he only has something that can be called "talent" in this matter.

Thinking of this, Khalil's lower face hidden in the scarf and coat collar twitched slightly, and he almost laughed.

Unfortunately, he didn't.

In the wind, he walked towards an alley. Two patrolling guards saw him, but did not come over to question him. They just stood under the street light and watched this man who was already in the dark step into a deeper darkness.

Throughout their lives, until their death, they would not connect this man with the series of horrors that were about to happen.

They would never know.

Unless they, like Khalil, could capture a faint sound coming from the ground thousands of meters away, and then separate the sound, just like scraping the remaining flesh and nerves on the bone with a knife to obtain a gleaming, flawless thigh bone.

Khalil gently held the thigh bone in his hand.

His face was no longer gentle, but replaced by a complete indifference.

The next second, darkness enveloped him, countless voices whispered to him inside, countless ugly secrets came from inside, and faces flashed one after another, some comfortable or terrified, some sweating, some calm.

He betrayed his wife! One voice shouted shrilly.

Then another: She stole his father's pipe and sold it!

Then many others: That man made a living by stealing! This man broke his promise and threw the father he swore to support out of the house, leaving him to freeze to death on the street! And this, a robber! Murder, rape, and insult to corpses.

The messages of the night passed by his ears one after another, bringing one after another of minor or serious crimes. Khalil accepted them all, and then told these voices: Do what you should do, a fair trial.

So they left with satisfaction, and he left the darkness and appeared quietly inside a dim mine.

The air was filled with the smell of dust, very strong, and the lingering smell of chemicals left by the explosives. Khalil sniffed gently, and his eyes sparkled like glass beads in the darkness for some reason.

A very light, very light smell of blood that was obviously processed and covered was captured by him. Moreover, it was human blood.

Has anyone died here?

He raised this question, and the perception network couldn't wait to integrate all the subtle evidence that was difficult to detect, and then get the answer for him.

Yes, people had died here, and not just one.

How many?

He looked around, his fingers twitching nervously, tapping his palms.

Eleven. Killed by explosions, crushed or suffocated.

Was that all?

No, more than that. One person was different. He had not died from dynamite, stone or lack of air. He had died from a sudden attack by some creature that had rushed out of the darkness and ripped him apart.

The creature was humanoid, but strong, with fingers as sharp and hard as the claws of a large carnivore. It was with its own fingers that the creature had torn apart this man's abdomen, then tore off his head, ripped out his spine, and made a horrible move.

And got the dynamite.

Khalil turned around and walked into a dark corridor without making any sound.

He was walking, and the dust on the ground that was not detectable by the naked eye was the best proof, but there was no sound of footsteps, even the friction between clothes and breathing disappeared, leaving only silence.

Just like that, he walked deeper, and the surrounding environment changed quietly.

Some cables that came from nowhere were laid on the ground and walls in a very simple way, and even the rocks above were not spared. The diffuse heat spread from the edges of these cables, raising the temperature a little.

Khalil ignored it, he just kept moving forward, and finally saw some kind of light.

The light of a lantern.

The old-fashioned mining lamp, igniter and weak electromagnetic coil worked together inside the heavy glass, providing sufficient light for this small cave at the end of the corridor.

It was placed on a clean and shabby crate, illuminating a heavy door made of light gray metal. The door was thick and heavy. Although it could not withstand the shooting of a laser gun, ordinary automatic guns and explosives could not cause enough damage to it.

Khalil quietly came to the door, and the perception network transmitted the slight breathing of the two creatures behind the door to his ears.

Then he stretched out his hand.

The steel melted quietly, and the wet and sticky sound flashed by. Khalil clenched his fingers, grabbed two different but equally rough vertebrae, lifted them up, and opened the door valve with the weight of the corpse itself.

He let go of his hand, pushed open the door, walked inside, and looked down at the two corpses whose brain stems were destroyed by his piercing the back of the head.

They were wearing fitted armor made of synthetic rubber and two pieces of steel. The two guns were hung on their shoulders by laces. They were not as crudely made as most of the guns at the bottom of the nest. People exclaimed that they could actually shoot normally?

No, they are not such weapons, but the product of design and mechanization, with the Imperial Skyhawk shining on the gun.

Stolen, or stolen? Or provided by someone?

It doesn't matter, what matters is the appearance of the two bodies. The purple and wrinkled skin, the protruding forehead and the amber eyes that almost fell out of the eye sockets have already revealed their identities to him.

He walked past the two bodies, shook his wet hands, and after continuing to walk through two doors, he saw a cave system with many connections. Countless "people" were coming in and out of it.

Everyone carried a gun, and everyone's face was filled with a kind of vitality that would never appear on the faces of normal imperial residents. That was an expression that only people who were confident in their lives would have.

They worked hard, carrying or assembling weapons and distributing supplies. Everyone called each other brothers or sisters, there was no violence or foul language, and even if their work was interrupted, they remained absolutely patient and kind.

Such a wonderful scene was enough to make every local governor or lord smile and lament his meritorious service, but it did not bring a bit of joy to Khalil's face.

He still had the most common expression - expressionless, but if people who knew him well, such as Yago Sevitarion, were here, they would definitely be able to see something from the details.

Khalil walked out of the darkness and turned off their lights.

——

Hayd took out money - two universal coins - and bought himself a breakfast, just a grilled fish cake. It was not very rich, but for a person like him whose appetite was declining year by year, he could barely cope with it.

The old sailor wrapped his coat tightly, standing outside the steaming shop and chewing his fish cake, with his right hand in his pocket, touching the salary he earned yesterday.

His employer offered him a price of seventy universal coins a day, which was not a small amount, and he himself was a little doubtful.

But the tall and thin gentleman told him: "I like to travel around slowly on my own feet, so part of this money is for your health care. Take it."

Had had no reason to object after hearing this? Under the temptation of money, even his employer's unusual observation seemed insignificant

Yes, he was indeed a retired soldier, and he did not go to the institution arranged by the Empire to make a living, but was almost homeless, but what did it matter?

Everyone has his own ambitions. He did not violate the emperor and his own conscience, so who can say anything about him?

Had finished the fish cake, licked the grease off his fingers, then put on gloves and left the warm store.

He took a while to squeeze out of the crowd and began to force his painful legs to walk. His knees almost rebelled.

They screamed at him in pain in his bones and flesh: Old man! Do you still think this is twenty years ago? The war is over, you don't need to run or walk fast anymore! Slow down!

But it doesn't work. Haid said no.

He promised the gentleman that he would arrive at the downstairs of the "Best of the Best" hotel at 8 o'clock in the morning. This was his promise, and he didn't like to break his promise. This was true both emotionally and logically.

Let's not talk about his own stubbornness, just talk about the bad influence that would be brought about if he was late - which boss would want to continue working with a person who was late on the first day of work?

The old sailor walked breathlessly in the cold wind. He reserved forty minutes for himself and only took twenty-seven minutes to reach the downstairs of the hotel.

However, when he took out the old pocket watch from his pocket to check the time, Hayd realized this.

However, he felt happy that he came early, as if such a simple thing that should be so was something that was important enough to prove his own life event.

However, this joy did not last long, because his employer's voice sounded from behind him just one minute later.

"Mr. Hayd, you arrived earlier than me."

The old sailor turned around, but a piece of grilled meat pie was stuffed in his hand, sizzling with oil, and the smell of spicy seasoning mixed with the smell of meat came to his nose, making his stomach, which barely ate a piece of fish cake, suddenly return to his youth.

Swallowing his saliva, Hayd smiled awkwardly, looking at the pie in front of him, not knowing what to do.

But his employer said in a vague voice: "Eat, guide, we have a lot of places to go today. I don't like to see others hungry. I know how hungry it feels. No one should work on an empty stomach."

The old sailor finally couldn't resist the temptation of the grilled meat pie, took a big bite, and stood in the cold wind with his employer to eat breakfast.

People passing by were not surprised by this. Most people were like them, eating while walking and eating quickly - if they didn't want the cold to take away the temperature of the food, they had to eat quickly. Besides, they needed to go to work.

Hayd ate several bites, and suddenly thought of a question in the taste of delicious meat and synthetic seasoning.

"Mr. Khalil?"

"What's the matter?"

"Is your clothes a little thin?" The old sailor looked at him puzzledly. "Where is your coat yesterday?"

"Ah, I went out drinking in the middle of the night and got it dirty."

Khalil, who was only wearing a thin jacket, smiled and answered. His scarf, gloves and coat were all gone, but his hat was still there, but it seemed to have changed a little.

Haid couldn't figure out what exactly was going on, but he could see the white mist coming out of his employer's mouth and nose, so he quickly finished his meat pie and spoke in a tone he didn't often use.

"Then you have to buy yourself some clothes."

Khalil agreed with a smile, his ears trembling slightly in the cold wind.

He was still listening.