[Resident Evil] [ABO] Gugela For Private

Chris sat down at the table.After spending the night in chaos, he calmed down his subordinates who were in a bad mood, and now he was so sleepy that his eyelids were battling.But now it was almost daylight, and the regular work and rest of the soldiers refreshed his mind again.He had stayed on the bed for half an hour before, but in the end he closed his eyes dryly, his mind was churned up like King Solomon's knot, and he had to get up and make a conclusion.

Most important are Pierce and Jack's problems.He shouldn't have intervened in the relationship between the two little devils, but he had to intervene when it involved the enhanced C virus.Although Jack stated that he would handle this matter clearly, it seems that neither he nor Pierce can maintain enough rationality in this matter.What's more, there are the group of people who took Pierce away and the mercenaries who are now in contact with Jack.Jack's affairs at the BSAA are a secret. Maybe this contact means that the person who took Pierce discovered his identity and his relationship with Jack?So soon, they will have their next move, and what will it be?

Chris thought for a while, wrote down the names of two people on the whiteboard, and pulled a few lines to the periphery. One wrote Organization X, and the other wrote Mercenary A. After thinking about it, another Pulled a line and put a question mark.He thought of the sudden arrival of the helicopters that blocked Jack during the transportation, which meant that they should have a base in the Indian Ocean, so he added the words Asian base under the x organization.

The second thing is the big fish that BSAA is currently hanging, which is related to the BOW black market on most of the Eurasian continent.He wrote down the name of the city of Lugano, thought for a while and added the name of the rose in black next to it.He originally thought that Miss Rose was an agent hired by "that big fish", but now it seems that all the actions of the other party deliberately led him to Lugano, and the wildfire was not only an aftermath, but also a warning .To him?Or for the trading market?He was a little confused whether the other party was an enemy or a friend.So he made a big circle on the rose code, no matter what, he thought, they would always have a chance for contact of the third kind, and hoped that it would not be when the swords were facing each other, and he would figure it out.

The third thing is the situation inside BSAA and DSO.They were all infiltrated, and those BOW black market agents who infiltrated them, he thought, naturally their dear "big fish" people were also indispensable.He marked BSAA and DSO next to the Lugano text, each with a double arrow.Is the other party also aware of their actions?Or—he suddenly thought that perhaps the one who actually got the BSAA news should be "Ms. Rose".If so, then everything makes sense.They're casting a net and they're going to get him in the net with the BSAA.And so to speak——

His gaze quickly turned back to the former mercenary who had been in contact with Jack.Since "Rose" probably already knew about Pierce, the former mercenary might not be able to contact him.

Chris dropped the marker and broke out in a cold sweat.

Jack woke up in the sunshine, bright colors rarely seen in winter jumped into the room from the open floor-to-ceiling windows, the golden light shouted like musical notes and pulled him up from the dark sleep.He rubbed his eyes, looked at the motes flying in the sun and couldn't help stretching out his hands, holding the light in his palm as if treating a treasure, he hadn't been able to bask in the sun for a long time.

The BSAA's safe house is well-designed. For mercenaries who are used to sleeping on the ground outside, they feel a sense of security at home.He rubbed his eyes and got out of bed, and was shocked to find that the Omega breath on his body had returned to a calm and restrained smell, and then found two empty inhibitor syringes in the trash can next to the bed.

"Did I inject myself with such a large dose last night?" he murmured suspiciously, trying to remember what he had done last night.He went to the BSAA base, had a few fights, broke up, and—

He jerked his head back to stare at the curtains drawn to the widest extent by the French windows—no one with the slightest training would leave the safehouse curtains wide open, which is basically shouting that I'm a target.

The mercenary rushed over quickly, glanced quickly out of the window, and immediately pulled the curtains. After a click, he rolled to a safe place, and reached out to take out the M1911[1] hidden behind the flower pot beside the curtains.

"Are you awake?" The inquiry from the door made him stiff, his former instructor held a glass of milk in one hand, and the other hand quickly changed from pressing the doorknob to a surrender posture, "I declare, I Not carrying a weapon—this glass of milk doesn't count."

Jack stood up from the squatting position, still pointing the gun at the former instructor: "Why are you?"

"I sent you back, of course I have to watch you." The middle-aged man walked along the wall, and the muzzle of Jack's gun moved accordingly. "Your milk, I'll heat it for you," he said with the cup in his hand Put it on the table between the two of you, and slowly push it over, "I promise you didn't take any medicine."

Jack's eyes rose with the heat of the milk, and drifted to the face of the middle-aged man. He took off his shoulders, tucked his penis into his waist, and said with a frown, "I don't drink milk." He pushed the cup back.

The middle-aged man took it with a smile, and drank half of the glass in one gulp: "I remember you didn't say that the day before yesterday."

"The day before yesterday?" The young man tilted his head and questioned, "Did I sleep for a long time?"

"Well, it's been at least thirty hours since I found you unconscious outside the gate of the BSAA base."

"So you gave me those two injections of inhibitors."

"Is there a problem? One injection every morning, that's what's written on the box, right?"

"No, thank you." Jack shook his head reflexively, and immediately reacted and clenched his fists, "Are you following me?"

"Of course." The middle-aged man nodded loudly. "Otherwise, how could I come in here. New home?" He looked around, his pretentious expression made Jack sick for a moment, "The decoration is really not bad."

"What do you mean?" Jack restrained his hands and feet, and confronted the former instructor across the desk, "Could it be that there is something here that is worth your trouble?"

"You." The middle-aged man said bluntly.

"Me?" The young man frowned, and then the scar on his left cheek twitched ferociously, "Speak clearly."

"I have a business—"

"Wait, wait," Jack interrupted, "You want to cooperate? Do you think I will cooperate with you again?" He smiled instead of anger, "After that betrayal?"

"This is different. This time we are partners, not subordinates." The middle-aged man waved his hands and drank the remaining half glass of milk. "You don't have to worry about my little tricks." He gestured For a moment, I changed it to a less harsh word.

Jack snorted back.

"If you think there is a problem, I can take you to see the employer." The middle-aged man said earnestly.

"How do I know if the so-called employer is real or not, and what you said is too long-winded," Jack rolled his eyes, "Now let me ask questions, first, why me, and second, how did you find me. "

The middle-aged man put down the empty glass, "It's not necessary for you," he explained, "but I happened to see you that day, and I thought you were quite suitable. This is God's guidance."

"reason?"

"This is related to the task. The employer wants us to go to the old town hall in Rivery. I figured that only you and I are suitable. As a result—" he clapped his hands violently, "you appeared in front of me It’s gone. This is not God’s arrangement!”

"The Old City Hall—" Jack frowned upon hearing this, "It has been in the hands of the Albanian gang since the Civil War, right." He pondered for a moment, and finally waved his hand, "Don't talk about it, I haven't been back for a long time."

The middle-aged man did not give up: "This is an opportunity, isn't it, to return to my hometown."

"Wait until the United Nations can clean up the mess. I'm not interested in volunteering to help them clean up the situation in the Balkans." Jack responded with a cold snort.

"I think you'd better go there," his former instructor replied with a forgiving smile, "Look, I checked some information while you were sleeping, if your regiment knows that you are messing with the BSAA Together, do you think you will still have business in the future? Or will you become the 'target' of those underground bosses?" He made a quotation mark with both hands, "Go, or expose your identity, how about this deal?"

Jack's expression changed, and he immediately calmed down again. He sat on the edge of the table, shaking his legs: "Then how about this deal? If I kill you now, you may not win, old man."

"How about we try?" The middle-aged people spread their hands together, "Let's put it this way, if I want to ask you to be obedient, I have many ways. For example," he compared between the two, "I am Alpha, you It's Omega." Seeing Jack make an exaggerated suddenly realized expression, he grimaced, "But I hope that the two sides can cooperate sincerely instead of having their own ghosts."

"You mean you have a dark heart." The young man remained expressionless, then sat on the table and played with his hands, "Okay, I promise you. Two conditions: first, I will be responsible for the communication with the employer, and second, I will I want you to list all the channels when you investigated me earlier."

The middle-aged man finally restrained his smile: "Don't you think it's a bit much?"

"Of course not." Jack jumped off the table, put his hands on the table and showed a arrogant smirk, "As you can see, I am an Omega, and I always ask for a lot."

Lugano City, three o'clock in the afternoon, overcast.

A round table in the corner of a viewing terrace of a cafe at the foot of San Nazaro Mountain.

The red-haired waitress came over, bent down, and said, "Your espresso, sir." She put away the plate and smiled commercially at the customer.

Sitting at the table was a gentleman in black, expressionlessly typing on an unexpectedly heavy laptop.She glanced at the other person's clothes, a tailor-made suit from Savile Row, England, lambskin boots, and gloves of invisible material that wrapped her hands tightly, which was British taste.Why don't such people buy a thinner and lighter computer?Such a bulky notebook looks really weird.And why do you wear such a big pair of sunglasses on cloudy days?It would make him look like a slightly rich security guard.

She waited for a while before Mr. Coffee looked up from his heavy laptop, "Thank you," he responded in Italian, "These are tips." He took out a twenty Handed over the euro notes, with a quick smile.

This amount appears to be a bit large.

"You are so generous," the waitress was flattered, she rubbed her hands and took the tip, "You should change to a pair of lighter glasses." She bent her waist a little more, revealing more ☺□— It was a pity that she couldn't see the gaze behind the sunglasses, she thought, "Look, it's a bit wasteful to wear sunglasses in today's sunshine."

"My eyes are not suitable for exposure to sunlight." Mr. Coffee was stunned for a moment, then quickly laughed again, tapping the edge of his sunglasses with his fingers, "It's too irritating." The blade-like smile was fleeting, and the waitress It was only then that Ying noticed that the other party had a pair of almost colorless thin lips.He smiled so coldly, like a vampire, she thought, he should be a kind person for tipping so much.

"What a pity." The waitress quickly regained her composure from her wild thoughts, and stuffed the banknotes back into her pocket, "Then what else do you need?"

"Ah, by the way," Mr. Coffee frowned, and pointed to the sparsely populated house on the mountainside that was affected by the wildfire a few days ago, "Is the Triassic Fossil Research Institute closed?"

"Yes, there was a fire a few days ago. It's nearby." The waitress quickly turned her head back and forth, blinking mysteriously: "I heard the police who came to buy coffee say that it was arson. They said the suspect ——It’s the woman in the news, they’ve been following each other for several days. It’s said that she’s in the city.”

"So did you catch it?"

"Who knows. If he was caught, he would have announced it to the world long ago."

"Then I hope they can as soon as possible." Mr. Coffee nodded.

The waitress shrugged her shoulders, and then she seemed to think of something: "By the way, don't tell anyone else about this. You know, keep it secret, politically correct, and so on."

"Naturally," Mr. Coffee twitched the corner of his mouth and returned an equally indifferent smile, then raised his cup and took another sip of coffee, "Please tell the barista, he's doing a good job."

Holding up the plate, the waitress chuckled, "You're so cute."

After the waitress left, Mr. Coffee began typing on the keyboard again.After a long time, he took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Those are a pair of gray-blue eyes that look like the almost colorless ice surface of Lake Ontario in winter, and of course, more importantly, they are exactly the same as Mr. Rose's eyes.

Mr. Rose stared at the computer screen with his hands propped up.On the explosion-proof screen of the military computer, a character file was displayed.

"Jack Mueller," he said to himself, "are you the 'manager' of the 'Railgun'?"

He thought for a while, and replied an email, and soon there was a ding, and a reply popped up in the lower right corner of the computer, with a few words written briefly.

"There is a blood sample of the man you want in the Lieveri Mercenary Corps."

"Okay," Mr. Rose thought for a while, he was going to Rievery, and then "Electromagnetic Gun" needed him to go to Vancouver.He's about to start moving now.

He closed the computer and waved to the smiling waitress.

"Have you taken off your glasses?" She ran over erratically, narrowing her green eyes: "Your eyes are so beautiful."

"Are you interested in taking a walk with me?" Mr. Rose responded with a polite smile to the lady's compliment, "I want to take a detour to the fossil research institute."

tbc

"Railgun" has been located, in Vancouver - with his "manager". "Angels are in America[2]" is really a prophetic sentence.

Mar. 18th, 2018

The author has something to say:

[1] M1911: □□, the Samurai Blade in Biochemical 1 and Albert in Biochemical 7 are based on this gun.

[2] The prototype is a play called Angels in America.