Edson Schmid, an employee of the Soms Nest Air Transport Authority, walked through the streets with the flow of people.
People walked past him while they were on the road, bumped into him, and pushed him away, but no one looked at him, at most he glanced at him, thinking about who was the guy who was not bathed, had a beard and blocked their way.
He didn't mind, but in fact he enjoyed it: he just walked, and didn't need to go anywhere, so that his heart would flutter.
There is no way, who made him so unlucky, but he made a friend, but it turned out to be a trap.
Now he cannot advance or retreat.
Thinking of this, he smiled.
When a guard saw him, he must have felt that Edson was laughing at him, because Edson saw him frowned and was about to speak.
Edson immediately saluted, waved his head respectfully, and continued to move forward.
He didn't know where he was going, but it didn't matter. Now this is the best situation he can crave.
“Edson Schmid.”
He didn't hear this sentence very clearly the first time, nor did he bother to look back.
He must have heard this call wrongly, just a somewhat similar syllable separated from dozens of sounds and the rushing footsteps.
“Edson Schmid.”
This time the sound came from behind him, and he felt a hand on his shoulder.
So he subconsciously reached out to reach the pistol he hid in his pocket.
"No, no, my friend."
The voice said, this time it was in his ears.
It was a soft voice, with a sticky tongue sound, which seemed to be the accent of the lower nest.
The next second, he felt a sword tip pressing against the skin above his right kidney.
"I don't want to hurt you, but you must come with me."
Edson felt a crack open in the depths of his mind.
"Who are you?"
He asked, his voice was very soft, and around him, many people hurried past without notice and did not care about it.
"A servant of your friend, he wants to see you again."
Edson felt the pressure of the sword move to the bottom of his left arm, and the hand holding his shoulder loosened.
One man walked behind him and approached his left.
The man put one hand on his shoulder, as if they were old friends and no one else could see the sword.
When Edsson looked at the man, he unconsciously showed a shocked expression.
The man was wearing a crimson uniform with black cross ornaments, and under the pointed hat, a wide, shaved face smiled at him.
"I'm sorry for pushing you with my sword, but I serve our mutual friends and I can't let you refuse this invitation."
The man's accent suddenly changed: he was simply powerful, without any accent of the bottom nest.
Edson could smell a faint smell of wine and a strong smoke from his breath, as if he had just come down from the card table.
The government employee's mind was running at high speed, fatigue and shock mixed together and became blurred.
"I see."
Edson looked at him.
The man who looked like a traffic commander smiled and nodded:
"He is not far away, come with me."
Five minutes later, he arrived at the meeting place - an abandoned warehouse.
The room is very small, which is equivalent to a chalk box hidden behind a small door. It is located at the end of a quiet corridor and seems to have been forgotten.
A lighting ball was tied to the ceiling with iron chains, splashing dim light.
There were three plastic steel crates on the floor, with some wear on the edges and a thick layer of dust covered with it.
The room is also filled with dust - the smell of dust and dirty air.
Edson glanced at the room and turned to face the man in a red uniform.
“Wait here.”
The man said, reaching out to close the monotonous metal door.
Edson breathed a sigh of relief and pressed his eyes with his fingers.
His hands trembled on his eyelids, trying to calm his mind and think about what to do afterwards.
"Hello, my friend."
Hearing this voice, Edson suddenly opened his eyes.
The person standing inside the door smiled friendly and bowed slightly.
He was tall and looked middle-aged, but those eyes revealed that his age was much more than what he looked like on the surface.
He was wearing a set of oily and poorly crafted work clothes on his thin body, his sleeves rolled up, revealing his lean but muscular arms, and his hair-lossed head shone brightly under the light.
He smiled and took a step forward.
"Mr. Zorg."
Edson called out the man's name neatly.
"Nice to meet you,"
Edson said, his voice loud, calm and slow,
"Sorry, this must be a little shocking. I've been here... for a while, but I think it would be the best if our fates had not met. After all... things changed after our last meeting."
Edson just stared at Zorg.
He recalled that when the two met for the first time, the other party was still a powerful rich man. Not only did he have strong financial resources, but he also had many "friends" in the government department. His daughter happened to suffer from a serious illness at that time and needed very expensive medical equipment.
Zorg looked at him, as if he was also recalling the same moment.
“A lot of things have changed, but we are both still here.”
Edson felt a pain in his chest.
He took a breath and felt his heart full of anger, hot and sour.
So he suddenly rushed up, raised his hand, grabbed Zorge's smooth neck, and pressed the cunning liar to the wall, squeezed and squeezed.
After that, his hands were empty.
Edson's whole world suddenly twirled, fell, and then he couldn't breathe.
He fell to the floor and felt the last bit of air in his lungs being pressed out of his mouth, so he could only roll and breathe.
Zorg stood above him, lowering his head, and his hands were hanging on both sides.
"You should use a knife."
Zorge smiled and raised his hand to show Edson a knife he was holding in his left hand.
His eyes went down with the blade until he was facing Edson's eyes.
"If you want to kill someone, you should kill him with one blow."
Edson endured the pain in his chest, and the anger had not yet dissipated, but was bound by pain until they were united.
He rolled and knelt on his knees, taking a big breath.
"What else do you want to take from me? You have turned me into a traitor!"
The young employee gasped, struggling to try to stand up.