Psychics don't die from gunfire

"Fuck your mother's last words"

Jarridon just opened his mouth and vomited blood.

When the three sentry towers lost control and opened fire, he was watching the new "Happy Shooting Planes" loser group resurrection match.

This is a 14-rated variety show launched by the giant company [Dust Contract Generation]. The contestants will be placed on an artificial island with a simulated ecology. Facing threats such as fellow competitors, harsh ecological environment, and genetic biochemical beasts, they will shoot down various colored "armed drones" in exchange for points, and exchange the points for equipment, assistance, rule support and bonuses.

The "loser resurrection match" is the losers in the official competitions in the past - most of these people were seriously injured at the time and should have fended for themselves, but the program team provided them with an opportunity to sign a gambling contract in exchange for treatment opportunities and a batch of implants, and then play the resurrection match with only one-third of the promotion quota in the main competition.

The promoted can survive, enter the main competition again to continue competing, earn bonuses to repay the loans of the gambling contract, and hope that after repaying these loans, they can return with the remaining bonuses.

As for the losers of the resurrection match, most of them died directly on the field, and a few who survived but failed to get the promotion quota would enter the "on-site execution" Easter egg link - the "execution method" was determined by the live broadcast room's barrage and reward voting, which was also the content of the gambling contract, which was reasonable, legal and compliant.

Because of this, the resurrection match of "Happy Shooting Planes" is far more exciting than the main match, with various explosive points emerging in an endless stream, and it is one of the popular programs nowadays.

So Jaredon was completely addicted to it! There was no defense at all! Half of his thigh was smashed in an instant, and then he encountered a series of grenade explosions and cold guns, and was seriously injured on the spot!

But at the critical moment, the boss found out that he was still alive through the internal communication channel, so while fighting with this guy, he hinted to wait for his signal to shoot and attack -

Looking at Song Shi, who had no change in expression and didn't say a word, Jaredon's curse gradually disappeared.

"Which family are you from?"

He was silent for a few seconds, and reluctantly raised his head: "Sharp Knife Society? Anker Gang?"

Looking at the mess around him, Jaredon spit out blood again, his face pale and unwilling: "Tell me what the reason is? We have already given up part of the field! Mangxue also recognized our territory! The cold chain transportation was also arranged at the beginning!"

"Last words? Then this is my last words! What went wrong? Tell me! Do we have any conflicts of interest? Or did we have idiots who offended you?!"

"How can there be so many whys in this world? Not everything has a cause and effect."

Song Shi shook his head: "But I can answer your first question."

The young man pinched his throat and paused: "Now, this voice, does it remember anything?"

Jaridon was stunned for a moment, a little confused, but then his pupils shrank suddenly: "You, you are-"

His voice stopped abruptly.

A cold light flashed across, and a round thing stumbled and slid down.

The solidified blood plasma on the ground was rippled with fine circles.

At some point, a drizzle quietly fell.

Click.

The weather in the Deep Moss District is always so changeable.

The drizzle not long ago turned into a heavy rain that overturned the sky before people could react. The soft rain lines suddenly became continuous and hit the ground under the night sky recklessly.

The cold rain swallowed the metal dust in the air, and under the reflection of the neon lights, it reflected a more dreamy color.

A tactical boot crushed the turbid water.

As the line of sight moved upward from the tactical boot, the outline of a person rose at the end of the street.

A person wearing a black coat, wearing a mask, and holding something in his hand stepped into the street at a leisurely pace.

"Stop."

The crackling rain hit the streets and alleys. In front of the bar marked "Sunday", the two burly strong men looked at each other and raised their voices as they saw the other party walking towards them.

But then, seeing that the other party had no intention of stopping, their expressions instantly turned colder. One of them went forward, and the other reached for his waist and held a pistol.

The other party stopped: "I want to see the Jackal."

"You? See the Jackal?"

The strong man looked at the other party, who was dressed quite intimidatingly: "You can't go in."

"Why not?"

"We only accept regular customers, I don't know you."

"Then how can I get in?"

The strong man was a little impatient, he twisted his knuckles: "Didn't I say that we only accept regular customers-if you insist on going in, why don't we get to know each other first?"

As he said, he sneered and stretched out his right hand, trying to put his arm around the other party's shoulder, but his eyes suddenly flashed, and the other party bypassed him directly.

"——You?!"

The sturdy man was stunned for a moment, and then he subconsciously became furious. When he was about to attack again, he suddenly found that his companion's eyes became astonished.

The next moment, his collar was split in two, and his clothes became two pieces of cloth spread out - just now, before he could react, something cut his collar.

The sturdy man turned his head suddenly and looked at the other person's back. The latter paused for a moment, and a cold light shone from the gap between the index and middle fingers of his right hand under the coat, and then it was retracted in an instant.

Is that a scalpel?

The strong man's expression was a little ugly. Another companion pulled out a pistol, and the holographic projection used to decorate the door of the pub disappeared. With several obvious mechanical flipping sounds, the dark muzzle of the autonomous machine gun emerged, aiming at the front of the bar— —

Just as the atmosphere became increasingly tense, a slightly hoarse voice cut in from the camera in front of the bar.

"Let this friend come in."

Hearing this voice, the two people at the door immediately put away their weapons and made way for a way. The autonomous machine gun above also retracted with a click. The holographic projection rose again. The dancing girl in fluorescent clothes chanted with a smile and swayed her skirt to the soft tune again. .

"——I have long heard of the reputation of "Jackal" among the middlemen."

The main color of this bar called "Sunday" is a bit cold. The metal chandeliers on the ceiling cast a mixed light of dim yellow and dark gray, forming irregular light and dark prismatic spots on the faces of the people on the booths and sofas.

Both the bar and the seats, as well as the wall coverings and chandeliers, all adopt the same decoration style, which was the "Mentaf style" that was once popular and famous for its carved board fonts and symmetrical graphics with complex textures - but the former is more popular The time was forty years ago - with the current design perspective, these can be summarized as the collective name of "retro style".

However, judging from the newness of these decorations, it is obvious that they have not been used for decades. It is obvious that everything is just the personal preference of the bar owner.

"You can let the doorman come out to stop the guests. This kind of behavior is different from the "Jackal" I heard about."

Looking at the guy sitting in front of him majestically, ignoring all the looks around him, the man named "Jackal" slowly raised his glass.

"Of course I welcome guests, but only if they come with good intentions."

The amber liquid sloshed in the cup. The man drank it all in one gulp and filled it again three times in a row.

"For what happened just now, these three cups are my apology."

Jackal put down the wine glass gently, raised his head and looked directly at the other party: "But he is right about one thing. We really only accept regular customers. Now, it's your turn -"

The tabletop suddenly sank.

"There are no natural regular customers in the world, there must be a process."

As the refrigerator opened, three blood-stained heads lay quietly in the pale cold air.

Song Shi knocked on the refrigerator:

"So how about we talk business?"