"Is this a threat?" The oily man on the table looked up thoughtfully at the old gentleman who had been looking at the other four people for a long time. He put his right hand down from the table. The other four people all had different reactions.
When the old gentleman heard this, he immediately waved his hand gently, "Of course, don't get me wrong, dear, this is a formal occasion. I guess everyone is a respectable person. I'm just a businessman and I won't easily turn against someone."
"A businessman who transports goods in the jungles of Myanmar." The oily man cracked his knuckles and smiled.
"So what? My business is in Myanmar, so I can't see it coming to the coast?" The old gentleman also smiled, "There are many people who are better than me. I can sell my face on the border.
But I’m afraid I can’t sell it now. If I say I want to scare everyone, then I guess this friend will be the first to attack me, right?”
The person he was looking at was a gloomy man. His hands were under the table, making it difficult to see what he was doing. The greasy-headed man glanced at him and said, "After all, there is no strict physical examination at this press conference."
Where is the link."
Several eyes drifted to the white earphones in the ears of the boy wearing earphones. It seems that the end of the earphones is also connected to a mobile phone or MP3 player. They did not go through any metal detectors when they entered the hall, so they did not have anything with them.
Only they themselves know.
"The story is very interesting." The taciturn and gloomy man spoke at this time, looked at the old gentleman and said, "So you came here spontaneously and were not coerced by anything."
"Of course it's spontaneous. If I don't leave my stronghold, no one can coerce me." The old gentleman nodded matter-of-factly, "According to your words, my friend, you didn't come here voluntarily?"
The gloomy man glanced at the old gentleman and then at the others. His eyes mainly stayed on the boy wearing headphones, but the other person didn't look at him at all. He kept leaning on the back of the table with his hands folded, either looking at other places in a trance or occasionally
Divert your attention and listen to the small talk at the table. Interject a word or two.
"I received a designated commission at the hotel half a month ago." The gloomy man finally spoke, his voice a little hoarse, probably because he had been injured, which gave the story he told a dark filter, "The content of the commission is
The heads of guests in the presidential guest room of a star hotel.”
"Hotel, designated entrustment, head." The old gentleman suddenly raised his head with a hint of surprise in his eyes, "Are you the killer of the 'Universal Hotel'?"
"Wow." The greasy-headed man opened his mouth and sighed softly.
Seeing the gloomy man nodding, the old gentleman looked up and down with interest, wearing a mask to cover his face, "I have contacted people from 'hotels' before, and I also thought about hiring workers directly from there, but it was very difficult.
It's a pity that the people in your 'hotel' only accept short-term jobs, and long-term tasks are not even allowed to be released."
"The Sky Eye era is taking shape, and the work of the 'hotel' is not so easy to do. The personnel are somewhat scarce due to the elimination of the good and the bad. Naturally, external forces are not allowed to tap floating talents." The gloomy man whispered, "There are no people in our line of work.
Not many, maybe there were once more, but at least when I entered the industry, there were already fewer people, and they should be almost dead. Those who can continue to live and be remembered are the elite of the elite."
"Have you ever heard of 'Bogeyman'?" the boy wearing white headphones suddenly asked.
"Night Devil? It's hard not to have heard of him. He is a truly top legendary figure in the industry. Unfortunately, he seems to have withdrawn from the industry. No one has seen him take on tasks again." The gloomy man looked at the boy, and others also looked at him. Originally,
Some people thought that this boy actually didn't understand and was considered an "outsider", but they didn't expect that the other person would name a name that few people knew as soon as he opened his mouth.
But after asking this topic, the boy stopped talking and continued to wear his earphones and looked away. The gloomy man looked at him very meaningfully and continued, "Global Hotel can be designated for entrustment. The slang is
'Hammer' and 'nail', those of us who make 'hammers' only need to know the price and sales location of the 'nail', and when a 'nail' is stubbornly stuck there countless times, the price of the 'hammer' will
It will increase, and naturally my commission came from this, and his price was so high that I couldn’t refuse.”
"So you hit a ghost?" the oily man asked.
"Absolutely." The gloomy man said, "But the first person to see a ghost was not me, but the 'bait' I threw out, a female special service provider. Specifically, she was the one who hit the ghost, and she also
You are indeed feeding ghosts with your body.”
"I thought every killer was holding a potted plant and wearing sunglasses." The woman in the fishtail evening dress said nonchalantly. She didn't look too comfortable with the gloomy man's approach.
"Killing is the goal, and firearms are not necessary to achieve the goal." The old gentleman seemed to know this business well and said with a smile, "When you hired a prostitute, did you plan to use poison? This can eliminate the suspicion at all.
No need to show up on surveillance cameras."
"I investigated the entry and exit habits of the people in the presidential suite in advance, but unfortunately he has not entered or exited for three full days since he checked in. Room service was refused, and all meals and drinks were handled in the room. I only knew that the target was male, but I
But there is no chance to do it, so I can only let others do it for me." The gloomy man said calmly, "The women I found are the best batch of service providers. No normal man will reject her. I have treated her in advance.
He poisoned her, gave her the room key he got from the housekeeping staff, told her to do what she had to do, and waited for her to come in and monitor the room next door."
"You probably didn't hear what you wanted to hear." The old gentleman said, probably guessing the outcome.
"It was like throwing meat into a grinder." The gloomy man whispered. "She didn't even have time to scream. There was only a violent impact and the sound of bones breaking, and then there was the sound of biting."
"The things in the room are not people." the oily man said.
"The thing I want to kill is not a human being." The gloomy man said, "But no matter whether that guy is a human being or not, at least my poison is useful to him. Originally, the effect of exchanging body fluids would be even worse, but no one expected that thing
He actually ate him, which almost killed him."
"What kind of poison did you give?" the woman asked.
"It's hard to imagine that a lady would be interested in this." The old gentleman smiled and said, but the woman ignored him.
The gloomy man did not answer the woman in the fishtail evening dress. He continued, "To be on the safe side, I pointed the silenced pistol at the most noisy part of the compartment and emptied three magazines.
When I left the box, there was no more movement in the room opposite."
"You killed him on your own!" the old gentleman exclaimed in a low voice.
"No, I said it from the beginning, I was just lucky." The gloomy man rejected this statement, "I opened the door of the compartment to check, and only found four or five corpses with a lot of meat missing. I checked
The corpses were found. These people were all my colleagues. They were ranked ahead of me in terms of mission completion rate. They were all covered with bite marks, but there were also wounds left from the battle. There were no less than five killers before me.
I went through this room and fought with this monster. When I came, the monster was already bruised and bruised. But when I found him in the bedroom, he was still alive. The bullets from three magazines and the poison made him dying. In the end, I had no choice but to
I didn't use the hotel's fire ax to completely kill him. The edge of the ax shattered and I was able to cut off his neck bone."
"What does he look like?" the woman asked.
The gloomy man glanced at the old gentleman and said, "Maybe this friend has already described what I saw."
"Sharp teeth, sharp claws, twisted biological structures, wild and ferocious style with dark aesthetics. If such things can be put on the big screen, then they must be better than "Alien" designed by H.R. Giger and shot by Cameron.
"I want a great masterpiece," the old gentleman said lightly.
"If he met me head-on in a narrow place, he would definitely die, but luckily he still died in my hands." The gloomy man said, "I took photos and went back to the hotel, and the person in charge of the hotel told me again and again.
I was sure that this was the head of the deceased and not a prop from a science fiction movie. After I uploaded it to the client, the other party readily settled my mission reward, and the mission reward came with an invitation letter and a document.
And that document is what led me to sit here now."
"document?"
"A document about the mission target." The gloomy man said calmly, "My mission target was not a monster at the beginning, but a person, one of my colleagues. We even had contacts because of the mission before, but when we met again, he
It has changed its appearance. The employer left a message saying: Anyone who can solve it has good skills anyway, right? But I guess you are not the first to accept this task. In this task, he is the one being hunted.
You are killers, but what will happen if one day the positions are reversed and he becomes the killer and you become the prey?"
"Perhaps all the killers will lose their jobs?" said the old gentleman.
"Then why are you here? Pure curiosity? Or are you worried that you are really unemployed like in the message?" the woman in the fishtail evening dress asked.
The gloomy man paused and looked at the woman and said calmly, "Why can't I be so worried?"
"Monsters are just monsters, they can't be killers."
"No, madam, you are wrong." The old gentleman said, "You have ignored an important and hidden message, which is that if the monster is the same as the one I met in the jungle of Myanmar, then it only belongs to a presidential suite.
The door couldn't close him, but the monster actually waited quietly in the room for a long time, only relying on the killers who came to the door to satisfy its hunger, and never rushed out of the room to massacre in the hotel. Do you think this means that
What are you wearing?"
The woman was startled and raised her head as if she wanted to say something, but then she shuddered quietly and lowered her head without saying anything.
The greasy-headed man pinched his fingers and glanced at the old gentleman and then at him, "Drug lords, killers, the identities of our friends at this table are quite interesting. I originally thought they would receive invitations.
They should all be entrepreneurs or CEOs of consortia. What about you, this lady? I’m curious as to what capacity you have sitting here?”
The woman in the fishtail evening dress was caught by the gaze and raised her head slightly, looked at the greasy-headed man and said, "I don't have a particularly interesting identity, I'm just a doctor."
"Doctor? Then what strange thing happened to you?"
"Nothing particularly interesting," the woman said.
"Let's talk about it, I think the organizer has a deep meaning in inviting all kinds of strange people like us to attend this conference. As far as we can see, a drug lord and a killer seem to have all attended this conference.
Reasons and qualifications, but Miss, you said you are a doctor, isn’t this a bit intriguing?” The greasy-headed man said, “Why would a doctor come here? Is it pure curiosity or some other reason?”
"Or if you tell your story first, I will be willing to tell you why I came here." The woman said.
"My story?" The greasy-headed man scratched the back of his head, glanced at the old gentleman and the gloomy man, "I feel like as soon as I start, these two friends will take out the things hidden in their waists and aim them.
me."
"Oh? Are you a policeman?" The old gentleman glanced at the greasy man in surprise.
The oily man nodded, but the gloomy man beside him didn't react much. He sat quietly on the table and looked away.
"My story is not particularly interesting like this lady's." The greasy-headed man said, "While investigating the case, I encountered a serial dismemberment murderer who was carrying out a siege in an unfinished building. My colleagues followed one after another.
The whole thing was dead, and I was the only one left in the end. I used the corpse of my colleague as bait and used a grenade to blow up the murderer to pieces. After I reported the matter intact, what I got was the revocation of my job and an appointment with a psychiatrist. Then I accepted it.
The invitation has arrived."
"It seems to be a thrilling story." The old gentleman sighed, "It seems that everyone has seen or killed a 'monster' with his own hands. If Floyd was not poisoned to death, maybe the invitation letter would be sent.
His hands, not mine."
"Then this lady also personally gave away a monster?" The greasy-headed man looked at the woman in surprise.
The woman was silent for a moment and then nodded slightly. The old gentleman killed the monster as a soldier's subordinate, while the greasy man and the gloomy man were both policemen and killers, and they were both elite leaders in the industry. So why should the woman be a doctor?
Can it kill monsters?
"At that time, an addict came to my clinic and begged me to save her." The woman looked at everyone's eyes and finally spoke after being silent for a while. "He said he didn't know whether he had overdosed on drugs or whether he had not touched drugs for too long.
He had a withdrawal reaction. Anyway, he said he felt very bad and his body was deteriorating little by little. He asked me to save him."
"Does the doctor break the Hippocratic Oath?" the oily man asked.
"I didn't, so I was ready to send him to a big hospital for treatment." The woman nodded, "But he didn't want to do that. He knocked me out directly, locked the door of the clinic, and forced me to treat him in the clinic.
"
"What an unexpected development." The old gentleman raised his eyebrows, "Are you the victim in this incident?"
The woman glanced at him and said softly, "Those seven days were like a nightmare to me. For seven days, I watched his body on the table deteriorate step by step. The first thing that deteriorated was the fluid in his body, black bile and yellow bile.
, the blood and mucus and various liquids in the body began to become thick and dark, and the whole clinic was filled with a rotten smell."
"At first he said he felt something crawling in his body, and that his blood had its own consciousness and came to life, so he started to bleed his own blood like a maniac. While doing so, he said he was in great pain and asked me to help him.
Help him, and I realized then that something terrible had happened to him."
"Actually, he had already lost the ability to move at that time. I could escape at any time if I wanted to, but I still chose to stay and give him a blood transfusion. I found that no matter what blood type he had, he would not reject it, but it would get worse in the end.
The black liquid circulated in his body, and this blackening gradually spread from the blood to his whole body, and then tiny villi began to appear on his body surface." The woman shuddered slightly, "Those villi are very hard.
I tried to pull them off, but when I moved the man, he screamed heartbreakingly in pain. I really had no choice but to let him grow. After the blood transfusion, there was nothing I could do but give it to him.
With glucose injection, his original self-inflicted wounds recovered several times faster than ordinary people. After stopping the bleeding and supplementing nutrition, the hairs began to grow exponentially until they covered his whole body. Only then did I realize that they were not hairs but scales.
.”
"It's settled," said the old gentleman.
"I asked him what kind of drugs he had used. His consciousness was very blurred at that time, and he was unwilling to tell me what he had used to cause this appearance. He only begged me to say that his hands and feet were itchy.
I cut his nails. Only then did I realize that the nails on his hands and feet had all turned black, as hard as a scalpel and were growing longer. I used a scalpel to grind off his nails, and he said that his teeth
It hurts so much, let me pull them all out.”
The woman whispered, and a picture appeared in the minds of everyone at the table. In a clinic with dim lights and foul smell, a man who gradually transformed into a man with black scales lay on the table and kept wailing and hissing.
, the trembling female doctor used a vise to pull out the man's teeth one by one. What came out with each tear was not blood but pitch black mud.
"He should be dead by the end of the story, otherwise you wouldn't be sitting with us alive." the gloomy man said.
"Later, he said that he could no longer control himself. He said that he saw hallucinations and that someone wanted to hurt him. He did almost break free and grabbed my arm several times, so he asked me to saw off his arm.
He said he felt like there was a fire burning in his stomach, and asked me to pour water into his stomach. After a while, he said his eyes hurt and asked me to dig out his eyes." The woman said, "I injected him with medical morphine and sedatives.
He was given aspirin, eperisone hydrochloride, and paroxetine, but these drugs had little effect until finally he said he didn't want to be alive anymore and asked me to kill him."
"How did you kill him? The killer's friend chopped up a fire axe. There should be nothing sharper than a scalpel in your clinic at that time, right?"
"I injected 1,500 milliliters of air into his vein."
Others at the table were silent. The thing more deadly than poison is naturally air. If more than a liter of air is injected into the veins, any normal creature will die from air embolism.
"At the end, he confessed that he shouldn't have listened to his friends and injected that new type of drug. I asked him what it looked like, and he handed me an empty syringe," the woman said softly.
"Wonderful story." The old gentleman applauded after being silent for a while, "At this point in the story, you received an invitation letter, so you decided to explore the truth and came here alone."
"A drug lord, a killer, a policeman and a doctor, and" he looked at the boy not far away who didn't join the conversation much.
"Student." The boy said unexpectedly.
"Students? Isn't this more interesting." The old gentleman, who is also a drug lord, smiled for a moment, "The organizer's choice of direction for inviting guests is really unlimited! Doesn't this make people curious about what the organizer's idea is to bring the guests to the city?
Are we gathering on top of this tower?"
"Does this still need to be guessed?" the greasy-headed man, who was also the policeman, asked.
"The key to the birth of the monster is the drug in the syringe. The focus of the organizer's press conference is probably that these drugs are correct, but I still have a little doubt." The drug lord said, "If I were the organizer, I would
Selling a potion that can turn people into monsters will definitely not use this method to recruit buyers and put buyers in the fear of the finished monster to arouse interest? This method may sound reasonable at first, but in fact it is fundamentally
It has no redeeming qualities. On the contrary, it is extremely ridiculous. Apart from me, none of you here seem to be potential buyers. To you, the potion is just a weird and novel product. You have no need or desire to buy it at all.
But the organizer still sends the invitation letter to you."
"Do you think this press conference has other meanings?" the killer asked.
"I don't know." The drug lord squinted and looked deep into the hall, at the empty podium and the hidden monitors hanging in every corner of the hall. "These doubts were gradually revealed after everyone was willing to share their stories.
What I found is that the answer to what the organizers want to do can only be answered by waiting for them to come forward and speak out."
"A potion that can turn people into monsters? Is there a market for such a thing?" the policeman asked.
"If it is in a war zone, the market will not only be there but also very large. Especially in the story of Mr. Killer, it is mentioned that the organizer seems to have the means to control these monsters, then his value will increase countless times. It is truly strategic.
"It means." The drug lord said, "Not only me, but also some of my 'friends' will be extremely interested in this product. But the problem is that the organizer's invitation direction for this conference seems to be weirder than I imagined.
a lot of."
"There is another friend who hasn't told his story. Maybe we can get the answer from his story?" The drug lord turned to look at the boy by the window who had been listening and paddling during the chat.
The killer who was silent at the beginning may be the one who truly deserves the description of being taciturn.
"I don't have any stories." The boy glanced at the drug lord, lowered his head and thought for a moment, then raised his head and said, "I am here. But after listening to your stories, I gradually became interested in this press conference. It doesn't seem like today will be the same."
It will be more boring than I thought."
"What do you mean?" The doctor looked at the boy and asked softly, "Did you guess what it was?"
The boy didn't even look at the doctor, but turned to look at the ubiquitous cameras in the corner of the hall and said, "I did guess something, but I hope I guessed wrong, otherwise tonight's events will not be boring, and
It will get really bad.”
After he finished saying this, before anyone else at the table had time to understand, the door to the hall suddenly closed with a bang. All the guests at the round table in the hall stopped whispering, and countless eyes focused in the silence.
On the side of the podium, a short woman wearing a white formal dress slowly walked to the front of the stage.
The short woman seemed to have stepped on something to stick her head out in front of the podium. No one in the hall laughed at her because everyone realized that this woman represented the organizer, and the organizer played a role in each of their stories.
The characters left a very deep impression on them.
The woman stood in front of the podium and glanced around. Her eyes did not stop at any of the guests at any table. After watching the ceremony in a "defiant" manner, she gently nodded and leaned into the microphone and said, "Good evening, gentlemen."