The "Adam's Intelligence" sold to me by drones is quite cheap. The reason is that there is very little intelligence among them, most of which are unproven rumors. The most supreme ones can almost compete with the "Top Ten Unbelievable High Schools".

Moreover, Adam has not made a debut for even a year as an intelligence agent, but he has not dug much information itself.

If we talk about information with high credibility, it is limited to Adam, who should be a man less than forty years old. No one has ever seen his true face. Most of the people who worked with him fell inexplicably for reasons not long after.

At the same time, Adam also had a history of provoking some local underground gangs to fight each other.

The drone told me that some underground gangs that were incited by Adam have now publicly offered a reward of Adam's life in the black zone. At this critical moment, they can easily be involved in conflict.

I asked at that time: "Then did you ask me to ask Adam for information last time?"

"Compared with those local people who want to get rid of you and get out of the way, the underground gangs Adam provoked were at best just some stinky fish and rotten shrimps," said the drone.

Suddenly, I remembered something again and asked, "After that, have you sold the news that I am still alive?"

"Uh, it's sold. What's wrong?"

"It's okay, I'll just ask." I couldn't help but feel like "shooting myself in the foot".

Before, my mind was influenced by taboo knowledge, and my self-confidence was inexplicably expanded like the dry goods of white fungus that had been soaked all night. Not only did I do the stupid thing of directly arranging untested blood sacrifice rituals, but I also actively allowed the drone to sell the information that "I am still alive".

Now that I can’t help but feel ashamed to recall it again with a clear mind.

Someone once said that "death" is the best shield. Although during this year, the former enemies may not believe that I am dead, even if one of them believes it, it will reduce me a little bit of trouble.

But thinking about it, as long as my true identity has not been revealed, those enemies who want to kill me can only fantasize about the photos after disguising me.

*

The topic is back on track.

At this moment, seeing Adam wave to me, I walked into this deserted fast food restaurant and came to her side.

The group of underground gang members who offered Adam's life would probably scratch their hair and make them more desertified than they expected. People who call themselves "Adam" who are extremely masculine nicknames are actually white women.

She looked like she was about her early twenties, with a white and beautiful face, with long golden hair and regular plaids behind her head, wearing a white T-shirt with colorful letters, a brown jacket tied around her waist, and a pair of blue and white jeans deliberately made into faded style. She looked like a female college student who often used her free time to accompany her friends to play badminton in the gym. Perhaps her grades in class were also very good, and she was trusted by her classmates and teachers, and she had a sense of freedom.

Moreover, the impression of having no emotion when contacting a mobile phone is completely different. In reality, she has a kind and cheerful smile. To describe it, it seems that when she accidentally drops the book to the ground in a library, she will take the initiative to help pick up the book and meet someone who will pick it up by chance.

There were three cups of milk tea in front of her. For some reason, there were some small, spherical substances that were deposited in the milk tea, which reminded me of the fish's eyes, but they looked transparent.

Not only that, there are many and dense.

Only the part attached to the wall of the plastic cup can be seen, and more are hidden in the liquid of the milk tea, which makes me feel unhappy.

When she saw me coming, she took the initiative to hand me a cup.

"Is it a surprise?" she asked.

I took the milk tea, but didn't drink it, but put it aside and responded: "I really didn't expect it." After saying that, I finally remembered: What was precipitated in the milk tea should be Ximilu.

I was affected by the "gestic collapse" again.

“Whether in the workplace or in the black zone, especially the latter, women are easily despised by men,” she explains.

"That's why you use the name 'Adam'?" I asked.

"So too, voice changer," she added.

But at this moment, I reflexively suspected that the face in front of me might not be her true face.

The reason why I think so is not because she showed some flaws, but because I just disguised myself and met.

To put it badly, people who are hypocritical in their hearts will be hypocritical, so whenever people like me who act with hypocrisy, they will doubt whether the person has disguised himself. If they contact him on a mobile phone, they will doubt whether he has used a voice changer.

While I found a seat next to her, I continued the topic, "Since I am worried that others will see their true face, why do I have to meet me again now?"

"This answer is reserved for the time being. Let's talk about it first when my client arrives. Now I can only say that I am helpless and it is not an exaggeration to say that my life is at stake." She smiled helplessly, then made a whole expression, and stretched out her right hand to me, "Anyway, please take care of me first."

I nodded, stretched out my left hand habitually, and then I realized that I should have stretched out my right hand, but I had been disabled for so long in the past, and I couldn't get used to it for a while.

But before she could change her hand, she had already held it up with her left hand and shook it up and down seriously.

I suddenly noticed that there was a callous on the side of her middle finger of her left hand, which looked like a "blog cocoon" that would have been formed after using the pen for a long time, which means that she is actually a left-handed. I recorded this feature and then said casually: "Since everyone said please take care of it, why not report your real name?"

However, she actually issued a string of names, "Sonia Shangri-La." But it must be a pseudonym, and it added up to three times that of mine. I decided to throw it into the recycling bin in my mind later.

"So what about your real name?" she fought back with a smile.

"Hasta." I replied without changing my face.

"What is the last name?" she asked.

"Lofcraft." I have made up a surname.

"It doesn't sound like it's made-up."

"The same to you."

Just as we were talking, someone entered the fast food restaurant again.

*

I looked over at the same time as Adam.

The person who came was wearing a faux black windbreaker, sunglasses and a blue mask, and a red hair cloak that was obviously a wig.

It was barely visible through the exposed skin that he was a yellow man, and there was no doubt that he did not want people to discover his true identity, and he could even insist on wearing such unbearable clothes to walk into a fast food restaurant. But then again, although this is a bit, no, quite inferior as a "disguise", it is indeed effective just from the perspective of hiding one's true identity.

The waiter behind the counter saw him and instantly revealed the reaction of passers-by witnessing the cosplay fanatic on the street, but he quickly coughed and calmed down, and then seemed to be in a tangle of not knowing whether he should come forward to talk.

Adam raised his hand, as if he didn't mind the strange costume, and greeted the visitor, "Here, here."

The latter hesitated for a while, then walked over, sat on the other side of Adam, and began to stare at me.

"His name is 'Hassegawa', and he is the client I mentioned before." Adam said to me, "and he is also a psychic."

"Hello." I nodded to him, and thought that although this must be another pseudonym, if nothing unexpected happens, this psychic should be a Japanese. "Japanese" is the name given to him by the earth in his previous life. In the world here, it should be called "resident of the Cherry Blossom Region".

Then Adam introduced me to him, using the pseudonym I had just reported, with a hint of grin on his face, "This is Mr. Hasta Lovecraft."

"Thank you for your introduction, Miss Sonia Shangri-La." I fought back.

At the same time, since the beginning, the "Hassekawa" dressed in a very suspicious manner has been staring at me tightly. Because I couldn't see his eyes clearly through my sunglasses, I still felt like I was being stared at by someone. Although it is common sense among common sense that you cannot look around when talking to others, his staring is too aggressive and makes people feel very impolite.

Adam also handed him a cup of milk tea, and he took it casually and nodded to Adam to thank him.

Then he took a sip, looked at me, and said his first sentence, "Is it really you who killed the sheepskin killer?"

"It's me." I replied.

"You are lying! You are not even a psychic." He decisively denied.

“There are many ways to kill the psychics,” I said. “For example, if Adam wanted to kill you just now, he could poison the milk tea.”

Adam poses an innocent pose, while Hasegawa still stares at me, "Adam has no motivation to kill me, and the psychic will not die of toxins."

"If someone who wants to kill you doesn't forget his mind on the pillow, you won't let you know that he has this motivation. Besides, what is ineffective against psychics is just normal toxins." I said.

"So, you can kill the sheepskin killer by relying on assassination technology." Hearing this, he seemed to have misunderstood something, and then asked, "So, where is his body? Hand it over to me."

"Before that." I had no intention of following his pace. "Tell me first, what is the mysterious organization you are investigating, and what does the sheepskin killer have to do with it."

He bent his knuckles and tapped the table impatiently, "Answer my question first!"

"Ask each time," I said, "I have answered your first question, and now it's your turn."

"Do you know?" His tone turned into a threat. "I can change the method at any time and 'ask' you more efficiently."

This guy's negotiation method is really full of typical black zone flavor.

Residents of the Black Zone believe that violence cannot solve all problems, but can solve most problems, and if violence can be used, it will not be solved in a more troublesome way.

This kind of behavior is naturally barbaric, lacking constructiveness, and even "doubt the level of IQ" in civilized people.

But after all, if these people understand what "more constructive communication" means and can learn to "solve problems in a civilized way", they will not fall into the black zone at all.

The Black Zone has never been a high-end place, and visionary people will never use it as the starting line. If the average person who understands the Black Zone through only the "dark fictional story", he might imagine another society that combines "violent aesthetics" and "black humor" and "evil romance", but in fact: there is only violence, no aesthetics; there is only black, no humor; there is only evil, no romance. Even the "other society" is not, it is just a very dirty and smelly local circle.

I understand again, if you take a step back at this time, you will only give up the initiative in the dialogue in vain. Although taking a tit-for-tat attitude here will make you feel like you are being pulled down to the same IQ level by others, I still have to say: "I'm sorry, I don't know, why don't you 'explain' it with your actions?"

"Very good." Hasegawa said coldly, "It seems that just assassination of a sheepskin killer awakened with drugs will cause you to have some misunderstandings about the psychics." He said, as he stood up, "I will help you wake up now."

Adam stopped it immediately, "Wait a moment..."

But before she could finish her words, Hasegawa leaned forward and stretched out his hand to me.

Just as I was thinking about the word "drug" he said just now and was about to remove one of his arms first, his face suddenly changed drastically, and he was still panicked and accidentally tripped on the ground by the chair behind. Before I could do anything, he was as embarrassed as a problem student who offended a strong class teacher in the classroom, was forcibly picked up, threw it out, and smashed over a handful of desks and chairs.

The waiter rushed over and went to support Hasegawa.

I put down my butt that was slightly away from the chair, and I was a little confused about this situation. I immediately came up with a more reasonable answer based on my previous experience: This rough-minded Hasegawa may be completely opposite to me, and he is a guy who also has outstanding inspiration among psychics.

So before you get hurt, you can use inspiration first and predict what will happen if you continue.

Looking back at Adam last night and today, he is so persistent about the "corpse of a sheepskin killer", and he is likely to be a rare "medium".

Adam looked at Hasegawa in a silly manner, and turned to look at me again, as if there was some speculation.

She showed a cautious look and asked me: "Are you a 'faceless man'?"
Chapter completed!