Abyss Express

Chapter 835 Tantrum②·There is a voice

[Part①·Twelve dollars hourly wage]

You are woken up by a siren, and there is a pungent smell of sulfur in the air. All these sudden changes make you inexplicably nervous.

It's not completely bright yet——

——The billboard of the office building next door is right above your head, you can see it.

[Together with Miami, create a new beautiful life]

The shrill, piercing sound of the flute makes your heart beat faster, yes.

Once upon a time, you relied on it to drive away criminals, make suspects lose their will to fight, and make lawbreakers frightened.

Later, squatting in a public community with a syringe in his pocket, you will know when you hear this sound - it's time to leave.

People in the community will complain about you because you can't find a suitable place to live, even a small apartment. You wander around in public places, find a random stairway, find a place to sit, and then fall into a sweet dream.

Until the siren sounds, you understand that that sense of security no longer belongs to you.

When faced with questioning, you took the trouble to explain repeatedly that you were once a state trooper, and you once believed that you could go to drug rehabilitation centers to regain your energy and face life. But why?

Why did it become legal in the United States? Seems to go with the flow?

Ben Richter, you're dying.

But I want to congratulate you. You have survived another day and you have temporarily defeated this desire.

"Hey! Hello!" An explosion-detection dog came in from the top floor, and the police followed closely——

——The first time he saw you, this Florida police officer did not draw his gun.

"What happened? Officer?" You were very sensible and immediately put your hands where you could see them.

Police officer: "There was a self-immolation case in this apartment, right here."

Before you finished speaking, the police dog seemed to have smelled your scent. It circled both sides of your trouser legs, especially the pockets. In the end, it didn't sit down or bark loudly. It spared your life - you had already Successfully detoxified for thirty-one days.

"Oh." The white police officer was obviously relieved: "Do you have your ID with you? Your driver's license too? Give them to me."

You carefully take out a pair of chopsticks——

——Yes, it’s chopsticks to prevent your fingers from completely entering the blind spot of the police officer’s field of vision.

I took out my old documents, including my driver's license and police officer's license, as well as the drug rehabilitation center personnel registration card prepared by the anti-drug team.

The white police officer was dumbfounded: "Don't be so nervous."

"I don't know how high-quality the police officers in Florida are now, and I don't know how fast you draw your gun, brother." You have learned to eat Chinese food a long time ago. In order to survive, this pair of chopsticks became the last A little decency, "Did you turn on the body camera?"

The white police officer responded: "It's always open, don't worry."

Your desire to survive is very strong, and you repeatedly emphasize: "There will be no recording until you open it."

The white officer then said, "I know."

You breathed a sigh of relief and asked by the way while the police officer was checking your identity——

"——Who set himself on fire?"

"The agent landlord of this apartment, the manager who handles the apartment business for the real estate owner, should be an agent, right? I don't understand how these commercial properties operate." The white police officer looked through your ID and saw that the police officer When he testified, he was quite surprised, and a trace of disdain flashed across his face, but he quickly calmed down - he didn't want to complain.

"Okay! Mr. Ben Richter, did you sleep here last night?"

You guessed who the protagonist of the self-immolation story was, but you didn’t expect that the little boss would end his life in this way.

Under your influence, this fat man is very afraid of pain. As long as he is a little tougher, this guy will never dare to use violence. Even if he pulls out a gun, it is just to scare people.

Will he set himself on fire? Is it that simple?

You didn't mean to be nosy, you just asked one more question.

"Is he dead?"

The white police officer nodded and then asked in a routine manner.

"Last night."

You interrupted: "I came back after recording the show on the TV station. To be specific, the show was not over. I got a reward of 1,200 dollars and immediately returned to the apartment building."

"When I entered the door and climbed up the stairs, I heard the little boss ordering pizza on the phone. He lied to the pizza clerk and asked for three portions per person."

"I don't think it's necessary. He can be bolder, and we had a conflict and a verbal dispute."

"Because he was paying a female anchor on YouTube, my attitude was a little bad when I was paying for the room. He pointed a gun at me. It should be a VP9 pistol - and the bullet was in the magazine. It exploded and I didn't understand why."

"I was very tired at the time. The guy who delivered the pizza would probably take care of him. I thought so and went back to the roof to sleep."

"Until the siren woke me up, that's all I had to say—"

"——Have you turned on the law enforcement recorder? Are you recording?"

The white police officer was inexplicably surprised by the speed of your speech. He was a little sluggish. Until you finished telling the whole story, he felt that all this seemed to be a lie made up by you - although the pizza delivery boy had already had an affair with the little boss. Contact, the little boss was still alive and kicking around at that time.

"His hand was injured by a firearm and he did not go to the hospital because the medical expenses were too expensive." The white police officer added: "I called the surveillance camera of the apartment. Thank you for your cooperation, Ben Rickert."

"This guy set himself on fire in the middle of the night. For some reason, he's now a charred corpse."

"You'd better sleep somewhere else. Do you need community assistance, Ben?"

You shook your head, hoping for a moment of peace.

The police officer took out a business card from his wallet--

"--I know there's a warehouse at the nearby dock. You can help. There's a job there that pays twelve dollars an hour. You can work and leave as you go. I know people like you don't like restraints."

This is so well said that you can hardly refuse.

Don't like restraints? What does it mean to not like restraints?

Who would like restraints?

"Thank you."

After saying this in a lukewarm way, the white police officer led the dog and immediately slipped away from the top floor.

You covered your head, which was in constant pain, and endured the pain brought by the stage reaction. You needed a lot of water. You felt very thirsty.

Looking in the small refrigerator next to the old newspapers, you found two bottles of purified water that were about to expire. This was originally a tool used by small bosses to make money. They only cost eight cents or even cheaper in the supermarket downstairs. When you get to the top of the building, if you unscrew the lid a little, it will charge you three dollars to settle the bill.

But it doesn't matter, the boss is dead now, died in the flames.

After two bottles of ice water, you feel better, and then you fall on the sofa bed again, lying with a pile of old newspapers.

[Part②·Burning with anger]

At twelve o'clock noon, you wake up on the top floor of this haunted house.

You had a very long dream, in which you saw the black dog again.

It spewed flames at you, as if chewing firewood, it was grinning, making creepy strange noises.

In the darkness, you felt that the ceiling was about to be melted by the flames, and it seemed that there was more than one person in the narrow utility room.

There was another miserable soul trapped in this narrow room with you. You saw the black brother festering all over, and pieces of smelly blood scabs peeled off from his charred flesh. He was rolling in pain, burned by the evil fire of the black dog.

Finally, you relaxed your posture on the sofa bed, and the heavy chest was relieved, and you woke up from the dream.

Your eyes were dry and sore, and your throat was smoking again. You need more water, Ben Rickett.

Let's go! Get moving! Let's go! It's already twelve o'clock noon!

Start a new day, start your new life.

Back to the street, you crossed the yellow warning line, and you were still a little uncomfortable with the fresh air outside. In the past, when you walked out of the crime scene, you always felt as if you were in another world - it seemed that the victim's soul was still here, wanting to confide in you.

You bought two bottles of water, and when you took out the business card from your trouser pocket, you were interested in this job with an hourly wage of twelve dollars.

Maybe this kindness will really become your expectation in life, a job of packing and mailing goods? It looks so simple, so mechanical, and so fulfilling.

Just walk two streets and walk to a warehouse at the Bay Area Pier, and you can find the person in charge.

Mr. Ben, Mr. Ben, move forward.

Try to take a step forward, yes!

By the time you come to your senses, you have arrived at the bustling sales floor of the warehouse.

The live broadcast theme has been decided, the logistics vehicle is waiting nearby, and the warehouse supervisor pulls you aside and puts a work badge on you - as for the process in between? You have forgotten it!

How did you get here? How did you get this job?

It seems that another personality in your body has helped you complete these things.

Then you just need to pack these things one by one, put on the postal labels, mark the address notes one by one, and hand them over to the next staff member.

The live broadcast room is very close to you, only two rooms away, and you can hear some voices, very familiar voices.

Maybe it is the voice of a popular anchor, wandering in the subway, in the studio, in the company office, and in the police station office. Almost everyone in Miami State, almost everyone who has used TikTok, has heard the voice of this anchor.

"Do you think it's expensive? Very expensive?"

"I've been selling goods on Tik Tok for so many years, and it's hard for manufacturers to do business. There are so many staff members waiting for this meal. I think sometimes we can't put all the blame on us."

"The US economy is so good now, can't you afford such a small amount of money?"

In just a moment, all your nerves were burned by anger.

Why? Why?

You look at the luxury cars outside the warehouse and the hot girls holding selfie sticks waiting for the next wave. It seems that everything is so far away from you. You want too many things, but you get too little.

Why can these bastards make so much money? Why can these scammers eat lard? But no one comes to expose them?

Why can he scold the audience with a clear conscience? Why? Why is there so much unfairness!

You didn't hesitate at all. You were still diligently labeling and labeling in the last second, and you kicked open the door of the live broadcast room in the next second-you felt your hands and feet burning, and your heart was getting more and more angry.

Almost instantly, you grabbed the assistant's clothes and pressed him down on the greasy-haired big shot.

You smashed the glass, and the sharp edge of the glass hit the comedian's head. Blood spurted out in an instant. He died completely, all for show.

You are so strong, Ben Rickett. Your anger almost burst out of your eyes.

You can't control yourself. He stuffed all the remaining glass shards into the corpse's mouth, kept opening and closing his jaw, and asked him to use the arrogant words as a knife and swallow them back into his stomach.

Amid the screams, you feel unusually peaceful, as if everything is moving away from you, as if all the noise has disappeared, including the emptiness in your heart.

Just for a moment, you are filled with courage.

When you walked out of the live broadcast room, your hands were covered with blood, but soon, these scars were burned by a fierce flame, leaving only charred skin, which was not much darker than your original skin color.

You know, these days of depression and anger are finally coming to an end.

You walked up to the luxury car and just took a look at it. It immediately started burning, and the evil fire that seemed to burst out of you spread quickly.

A few steps further outside, the sexy girl who was still doing outdoor live broadcasts stepped on the white beach.

She is still shaking her butt and showing off the 800ml prosthetic breasts on her chest to make them look elastic - you burst the prosthesis in her nose and hit her until her eyes rolled up and she passed out. At the same time, you You heard the siren, but this time you didn't panic, as if it was a given.

Sooner or later you will be executed on the spot by the state police, and you have already seen your fate.

Your mind has gone into a state of rage. Facing the audience on the other end of the phone, facing the more than eight million popularity data in front of the screen, and facing the ever-increasing flow of information - Ben Richter, you have become a star. , became the focus of everyone.

you say--

"——She's lying to you! She's lying to you!"

"Her paid content is fake! It's synthesized by AI! There are also thirteen air tickets and travel records in the background!"

"Hey! She's not a college girl from Florida! She has many bosses!"

You couldn't wait to find a driver's license from this warm corpse.

"She is already thirty-three years old! Why!? Why do you still spend money on her? Why?"

"Don't you have a life of your own?"

The live broadcast room is closed, and you suddenly feel lost. You feel that the coastline is moving away from you, and everything is moving away from you.

You ran back to the warehouse as fast as you could, climbed onto the logistics truck without thinking, turned the key and fled to the city——

——Mr. Ben, you don’t know where to escape, you don’t even know how to spend the rest of your life.

Arriving at the underground parking lot of a hotel in Dongcheng District, you evaded twelve surveillance cameras and the police car failed to catch you. When you avoid the height-limiting railing and come to the motel's exit again, a car blocks your way.

You know, that's a road rage sufferer, a pure idiot.

His driving skills are terrible. He is almost driving in the opposite direction and wants to compete with you at the exit.

After honking the horn two or three times and seeing no response from you, the female driver rolled down the window and cursed loudly——

"——What the hell are you doing blocking the road?! Do you want a slap? Are you a retired Marine? Why are you looking at me so arrogantly? Are you looking for death?"

You had no extra mercy for him, so you stepped on the accelerator gently and pushed his Land Rover into the traffic on the highway.

just a moment

The fireball shot out from the fuel tank cap of his Aurora and was carried very far away by the tanker truck in the fast lane, until the black tire tracks also began to burn.

Ben Richter, you've killed three people.

God bless you! A voice said! Well done!