Scarlet Night 22


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Scarlet Night 22

As he ran, his chest expanded to its limit. The last time he felt like it was about to explode was when he learned the truth. His eyes bulged like a frog, and every breath was a long torture.

He heard the sound in his throat, like the wail of a dying dog. The silver-haired woman was still chasing him. The hole in his shoulder caused by the bullet kept oozing blood, but the man still gritted his teeth and dragged his body with hatred, hoping only to escape and buy enough time to complete his revenge.

"Bang--"

There was another loud noise of a wooden crank, and a flower of blood burst out from the man's body. He was unable to maintain his balance and finally fell down. The suitcase in his hand also fell to the ground, and the documents inside were scattered all over the floor.

"Busha Ron," the silver-haired woman who had been chasing the man all the way, Curacao from the Black Organization, walked out from the darkness. Even though the target was dying, the muzzle of the gun in her hand was still pointed steadily at the man who collapsed on the ground, "It's all over."

Both your life and your revenge come to an abrupt end at this moment.

The man called Busha did not respond, or rather, he did not have the strength to respond. His consciousness gradually began to blur due to blood loss. His arms were still groping on the floor, trying to put the scattered documents back together. The snow-white papers were stained with bright red. Curacao did not open the wooden warehouse again. He just watched his hands lose strength little by little, and finally he lost the ability to sustain life.

"Mission accomplished," Curacao carefully confirmed before passing the message to Rum, "The target has been solved."

The apartment that Busha fled into in a panic was almost half-abandoned. The homeless people in Los Angeles knew better how to seek benefits and avoid harm. After hearing about Mucang, they ran farther and farther away, which gave Curacao enough time to report to his superiors.

After briefly describing that the hot-tempered criminal who had threatened the Lighthouse National Pharmaceutical Company, which had a cooperative relationship with the organization, had died, Rum ended the call with praise. What the second-in-command did not know was that his confidant did not start cleaning up the scene immediately after hanging up the phone, but dialed another number.

"Mescal," Curacao said the code name of the man who had confronted his boss, "Busha did carry the evidence with him..."

"Burn it," Mescal interrupted her coldly.

"Yes..." Curacao squatted on the ground, carefully avoiding the corpse, and put the bloody documents back into the suitcase, "But..."

"His tragedy is very common," Mescal's calm voice sometimes sounds really annoying. When Curacao received this mission, he naturally investigated the target's information. A promising top student was used as an experimental subject by the government without knowing it, and the time can even be traced back to childhood. His enthusiasm instantly turned into hatred, and he just wanted to use what he learned to avenge his life, "especially in this country."

"... Mezcal," Curacao dragged Buscha's body to a corner, poured wine that soaked the corpse's coat, and placed contraband on it, intending to make people believe that this was a farce by an alcoholic homeless man. Bullet holes were indeed difficult to deal with, but it was not a problem for the winery to bribe a forensic doctor. "Just like you scanned Miravo's brain?"

"She knows," Mescal replied, as always, "and is glad to share my work."

The flames gradually rose, and the edges of the paper became charred. Curacao stared at the rolled-up corner of the document, which was mostly covered with blood. He could vaguely see the signature of someone in charge, with beautiful cursive script on it.

【Mendoza】

This is the last name of the person in charge.

.

"Mescal..." The old man on the bed called out with painful sobs. The computer screen in front of him showed his wrinkled face in different shades of dark blue. "You know... Recently, we have had some problems with our funds..."

"I understand, boss." The words on the screen appeared together with a synthesized electronic voice, "Risk transfer."

"We can try to mobilize the secret line of Huiren Society."

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