The Emperor’s Angel of Death

　　He, Rozim Premki left his post again without permission.

　　 But his memory is not very good, but he simply feels that he should have remembered his name correctly.

The restaurant master of the Spark, with a not-so-elegant gesture, put the responsibility of serving the Astarte battle group as heavy as an emperor from his shoulders, and broke the ten thousand years of clichés. Structure of the cage.

　　 Even though he had to return to the slightly depressing upper deck after an hour, and put the hypocritical dignity on his face in front of the Astartes.

　　 Now this brawny man, who is nearly two meters tall, is near the passage area where the upper deck is directly connected to the lower deck, and is going all out to turn over this **** metal wall.

　　'S previous jump allowed him to hold his hands on the top of the wall, his left foot was stepping on the bucket that was quietly borrowed from the boiler room, and his right foot was rubbing hard against the smooth wall, trying to find a key point of force.

　　 And he tried so hard, just to take advantage of the good time when the kitchen does not need to be taken care of and there are not many things in the subspace navigation, and slip out to have some fun.

　　 But thinking about it carefully, the same thing.

　　 The first paragraph can be said to be straightforward and arrogant, while the latter paragraph seems embarrassing and trivial. This is what Rozim is capable of.

　　 As a former Astarte qualifier, his status on the Starfire is not low, just that his role does not sound so honorable.

　　 Perhaps when Astarte is mentioned, people directly think of a terrifying poker face.

　　 But for so many years, Rozim has always believed that it is always better to move the mouth than the trigger.

　　 This may be one of the reasons why he did not become an Astarte in the end.

　　 Such as the bucket under his feet, when he writes the word "borrow", he will never miss the quotation marks without conscience.

　　 It was indeed borrowed from the water heater in the boiler room.

　　 Of course, the reason is a bit vague, after all, he has a bad memory.

With the help of a surpassing mortal physique, Rozim was very happy that his twitching right leg, which was almost out of force, finally gave strength to the wall, with a somewhat exhausted body. Fall to the ground inside the wall.

　　 is a bit louder, but he is not worried that a line of sight will be shot at me from the post.

　　 He has already checked the vision of the sentry post, knowing that this is a safe blind spot.

　　 Then he raised his wrist and took a look.

　　 No more, no less, the watch shows that he has at least 56 minutes of standard Terra time to splurge.

　　 So he quickly got into a small freight elevator and activated the down button. With a slight sense of weightlessness, he stayed in the elevator for ten minutes.

　　 When the elevator door opened, he immediately got into the shadows, walked along a small maintenance corridor, and arrived at the familiar old place.

　　 was in the distance in his sight, the neon light radiating faint red light, refreshed him.

　　 The show begins.

　　 It is standard Terra time, three thirty in the afternoon.

　　At this kind of time, there is always no one in the bar, because according to the common saying of the overseers, the scum who don't work hard but are just muddled alive cannot be called people, because they are not worthy of the emperor's salvation.

　　Therefore, there should be only some gang members and prostitutes who are trying to court Rozim in this hidden small iron house, and a few slackers on the bar with red eyes and sighing.

　　 A long time ago, as the son of a chieftain in a wild world, Rozim was eager to become a warrior in the heavens, hoping to become a courageous and powerful son of God.

　　 But he made a mistake.

　　 Becoming a Celestial Warrior does not bring him much material enjoyment, even spiritual enjoyment is minimal, and he cannot truly abandon his human desires.

　　 Perhaps because of this, he failed and survived in pain.

　　 Rozim felt frustrated by this more than once, but he soon realized that he was indeed not that piece of material.

　　 He can only change his thoughts and make himself more vulgar and boring. Only in this way can he embrace a life full of fireworks, eat all day long, have fun in time, drunk life and dream of death.

　　 Okay, so he intends to let himself forget these first.

　　 Because he realized that when he was silently remembering, the prostitute had already dangled the two masses of meat on her chest that had obviously undergone an illegal operation in front of him, trying to hook up the business in front of him.

　　 "Do you want me~"

　　 The sound is loud enough, and the people are strong enough, but Rozim knows that things like this kind of proactively pulling people at the door are generally a bit dirty.

　　 Of course, anyone who knows this will be very confused. How could there be such a profanity and dirty deal on the glorious Astarte battleship?

　　 If Rozim could hear it, he would laugh.

　　 Strictly speaking, only the upper deck and the middle deck are under the halo of the Astartes, while the lower deck is a place where angels will never set foot in almost their entire lives.

　　 Here, mortal life is everything.

　　 Their joy, their pain, their sorrow, their desire...

　　 All of this is absolutely incomprehensible from the upper deck a few kilometers away. It is like a huge church, and everything is shrouded in a solemn halo.

　　 Of course, it’s not that Rozim hates the upper deck. After all, he also loves cleanliness, and struggling to survive every day is not what he wants.

　　 But this does not prevent him from occasionally having fun to numb his brain, which is often tortured by failure.

"no, thanks."

　　 After he finished speaking coldly, the prostitute who had left in anguish whispered a "male dog".

　　 Rozim felt happy instead. After all, he kept talking to those servants who were either fooling around or sullen. He hoped that one of them would dare to say something swearing to him with his middle finger.

　　 Before entering, he looked up at the sign of this secret bar.

　　 This bar is called "Flint", which seems to be because the owner's temper is hot after all, which is why Rozim chose to drink here.

　　Because the boss is one of the few people who know that he came from the upper deck, but don't have any special opinions about him.

　　 As for other people, such as the **** just now, if she knew that she was being disrespectful to an upper-deck high-level warband servant, Rozim wanted to just pat her on the shoulder, she should be able to excite her for a week.

"what would you like?"

The sound of footsteps exposed Rozim's position. He faintly saw the bartender and boss standing behind the bar, slowly wiping the wine bottles on the cabinet, and from time to time he raised the bottles against the red lamp to compare them to see what's inside. how much is left.

　　 banged.

　　 Rozim grabbed the drunkard lying on the bar, sleeping like a dead body, and threw it on the floor ~www.wuxiaspot.com~ and unceremoniously grabbed the opponent's high stool.

　　 "Mid cup, full, rum."

　　 "Wait a minute."

　　 When the boss put down the wiped beer bottles and looked for rum on the cabinet one by one, Rozim glanced at his watch.

　　 There are 42 minutes, it’s still early.

　　 Then his gaze turned to the gang members. They seemed to have a dispute because of something. Rozim guessed it must be an uneven distribution of the spoils.

　　He really hopes that they can do one of them, and then they can take advantage of the trend to clean them up one by one. In this way, maybe you don't need to pay for alcohol in a while.

　　 The order on the lower deck is almost equivalent to no. The Astartes will not give a glance. The mortal auxiliary army of the battle group also dislikes this place. In addition to the technical guards in charge of each cabin, the main order maintainers here are the gangs.

　　 In a sense, the lower deck of a large battleship like Spark is almost a small nest.

　　 The local gang with the characteristics of the nest is naturally indispensable.

　　 "Your wine, Mr. Chef."

　　 Soon, the cup snapped on the bar, just in front of Rozim's eyes.

　　 He picked up the cup and took a sip in silence.

"Ok……"

　　 The taste is not very positive, but it is strong enough to make the throat feel burning. It should be home-brewed.

　　 Rozim also knows how to make wine, but it is too dangerous to do so on the upper deck. The dense sensors on it can easily reveal his plan.

　　 Once a warband servant is found to be related to alcohol or drugs, then you must be prepared to face the warband priest.

　　 The mortal priest is scary enough, a black armored Astarte priest.

　　 Rozim didn't want to be nailed to the Skyhawk frame and could not be buckled down.