Chapter 2666

"Stop playing dead, we don't have much time." Shiler shouted at the agent lying on the ground.

The other party had no movement.

"Get up, blue-skinned dog."

The other party sat up with a 'swoosh', and then looked at Shiler with suspicious eyes. The term 'blue-skinned dog' is usually used to scold American police, but occasionally also agents, because their uniforms are all dark blue.

Anyone who would use this term to scold police agents, you don't need to think to know what kind of person they are.

"Who are you?" The other party still followed that set of agent logic, not asking for the cause, process, or result, but first suspecting the other party's identity.

"An ordinary medical student, don't just stand there, come and help me." Shiler bent down and lifted Garrett up.

"You killed him?"

"Not yet, he's not dead."

The agent widened his eyes, looking at Shiler in disbelief, and then looked at Garrett's throat that had been completely pierced through.

Shiler sighed, and while moving the person, said, "He dared to chase and kill you so blatantly, do you think he is an ordinary person?"

"You mean he is actually a superpower user?"

"I mean, he is the kind of person who is stupid enough to inject hundreds of chemical agents into his own body, transforming himself into neither human nor ghost, just to live longer."

The agent was choked up. The moment Shiler picked Garrett up, he knew he wasn't dead. Of course, it was normal that he wasn't dead, otherwise he couldn't possibly meet him again in the future.

Garrett in the comics is an anti-hero, but clearly, Garrett in this Shiler universe is more like the TV series version. In the TV series, he injected himself with quite a few needles, seemingly to live long like Nick and Natasha. It was a bit difficult to kill him using ordinary methods.

Fortunately, at least he still followed the rules a carbon-based organism should have. After losing a lot of blood, he fainted. Shiler dragged him toward the church. The agent with the injured leg was actually able to stand up and followed behind him, limping.

"What do you plan to do?" The agent asked him.

"I thought you would scream and call the police." Shiler told a cold joke, dragging the person toward the back of the church unhurriedly.

The agent opened his mouth and continued, "I have already been defined as a defector, and there won't be a good end if I go back now."

"That's perfect, help me open the cellar door and throw him down."

"Just throw him here, won't there be a problem?"

"Of course there will be, but I think the person who can be chased and killed by him personally shouldn't be stupid enough to not be able to run out of his field of vision in more than ten hours."

"I mean you." The agent said, "You look like just an ordinary person."

"Good eye." Shiler praised, but he threw Garrett into the cellar very cleanly and neatly, patted his hands, and said, "Don't worry about me, you just run."

The agent looked at him very suspiciously, but Shiler's gaze fell on his injured leg. He said, "Come on, I'll help you take the other bullet out. After bandaging, it won't be a big problem."

Although the agent felt inexplicable, not knowing where this kid got his confidence, but thinking that his agent career was basically finished, he said while watching Shiler bandage his injured leg.

"I have to remind you, he and I are not in the same faction. I mean neither the same organization nor the same side. He... forget it, knowing too much is no good for you either."

"In short, he is not a person who will act according to the rules of agent organizations."

"This is the first time I've heard that agent organizations have rules." Shiler still said faintly, "Isn't this profession born precisely to not follow rules?"

The agent laughed, then coughed twice and said, "It seems you know this industry quite well. You are right, but, um... that guy just now doesn't follow rules particularly, doesn't follow the conventional rules in the industry."

"Are you trying to say that precisely because of this, you were chased so miserably by him?"

An embarrassed expression appeared on the agent's face, but seeing that the bandaging action on Shiler's hand had reached the last step, he knew he had no time, so he put on a serious posture and said.

"I'm serious, kid. Although various situations of undercover agents within agent organizations are very common, his background is extraordinarily unusual, and he is not on the same side as almost all of us. So don't expect that if he wants to target you, there will be any justice-bringer rushing out to save you."

"Are there many of them?"

"Many more than you imagine, and most are shameless and unscrupulous."

"More shameless than me?"

The agent just wanted to nod, but suddenly thought of what this young man had just done. He didn't even have half a second of hesitation before he suddenly attacked, cruel without a trace of emotion, fierce more like a primitive beast. The moment he pierced through someone's throat, he embodied that kind of cold and extreme violent aesthetics to the fullest.

"Who exactly are you?" He couldn't help but ask, and then he carefully looked at Shiler's face, as if he remembered something, but soon chose to remain silent.

Shiler was also observing his reaction, because he also had to confirm some things, such as how much of the background story copied by the Superego was copied.

If he copied more, he would have to find a way to fudge the past things, at least find a legitimate reason, otherwise it wouldn't be good if Nick checked it later.

"It seems I worried about you for nothing." The agent said, "But I still have to remind you, don't go head-to-head with them, otherwise no matter who you are, you'll have a hard time."

"Thanks for your kindness." Shiler tied a knot in the bandage and said, "Okay, your countdown to life-and-death escape is about to begin, please, sir."

Before that agent limped out of the church gate, he looked back at Shiler, and Shiler was bowing his head in prayer before the statue of Jesus, the low sound covered by the thunder in the distance.

Before the cold steps soaked by rain, behind the long traces of blood, under the high and sharp dome, surrounded by the hoarse cries of crows, the agent heard low, looming Russian.

When Garrett woke up, he found himself lying in a pool of water, and more water was seeping in from the cracks in the cellar door panel. His neck was very painful, but the wound was almost healed.

In front of him, there was still only a fleeting afterimage, moving so fast that he couldn't see clearly, nor could he react in time. He couldn't connect this afterimage with the figure of the young man with gray eyes; the latter was a student, the former was a thug he couldn't see through.

He took a deep breath and sat up, tracing every detail of Shiler's features in his memory. Suddenly, as if he remembered something, he jumped up from the ground and grabbed the ladder under the cellar door beside him.

Dozens of seconds later, he turned and climbed the ladder. Outside the cellar, it was pouring rain, and the rain washed away all the blood on his body. He knew there wouldn't be any traces here, so he just squinted at the flashing traffic lights at the intersection in the distance.

The red and green overlapping lights made people unable to open their eyes. The smell of alcohol almost condensed into a tangible mist in the hazy light, carrying those roars and screams further and further away.

Shiler, smelling of alcohol, broke free from the dance floor, slowly raised his head, wiped the lipstick mark on his jawline with the base of his palm, lowered his head, and sat at the bar, seemingly just wanting to catch his breath.

"Looks like those little bitches are giving you a hard time." The red-haired bartender sat opposite Shiler and said, "Mizuwari?"

"No, that's too strong, I've had enough, bring me some juice." Shiler revealed a drunken smile.

"Martini." The female bartender came to a conclusion on her own. She said, "At most I'll give you some lemon juice, you can't run."

"Please, miss." Shiler was still smiling, his eyes a bit unfocused, lowered his head to put a cigarette in his mouth with trembling hands, swallowed his saliva, and said, "There's another one this weekend."

"Football party? Didn't expect you to really go." The female bartender picked at her hair and said, "Rebecca told me she had no confidence in calling you over, you are too popular, looking into your eyes, she couldn't say those harsh words."

"Ladies are always very gentle." The pronunciation of the last word was quite lingering, as if he had experienced it personally. Shiler took another sip of the drink just handed over, let out a long breath, and said, "A friend of mine was invited, and he wanted to go very unworthily, I have to accompany him."

"Haven't heard you have a friend with such a relationship, but that's fine, you can't always hang out in a pile of women." The female bartender smiled and turned to work. Shiler drank the wine sip by sip until he returned to the apartment swaying with a strong smell of alcohol and fell onto the bed.

The door was knocked.

Shiler was still retching by the bed, his eyebrows and eyes wrinkled together, the whole world was buzzing, but he still braced himself to stand up and open the door. Outside the door was Strange.

"A night of passion." Strange looked at Shiler and said, "Cigarettes, alcohol, drugs, women."

"All of them." Shiler nodded.

In the somewhat swaying field of vision, the rain hadn't completely stopped. After pouring half a bottle of whiskey, and then sprinkling the rest on his body, Shiler walked forward swaying while holding the wall.

Under the dim light of the street lamp, not far away was the bright and enthusiastic light of the clubhouse. A red car stopped in a vacant parking space, and a curly-haired lady carrying a small handbag got out of the car.

"Oh, god!" She was clearly startled by Shiler who was vomiting while holding the wall.

"Where's the police?! How could such a drunkard appear here... God."

Borrowing the light from the street lamp and car lights, she saw Shiler's sharp side profile, the eyelashes like sharp arrows, and the gray eyes below revealed confusion and fragility, far more beautiful than her prey tonight.

She walked up and supported him.

"What's wrong with you? Sir?" The long eyelashes combed by mascara flickered up and down, and the eyes full of desire sized him up, as if evaluating a piece of meat.

"I'm lost... Columbia University... where is it?"

"Are you a student?"

"Yes, medical school, number 2... number 3 dormitory? I forgot."

"It's not good to go back to the dormitory drunk like this, let me help you into the car."

Two figures walked toward the car swaying. Shiler stood still holding the car. The woman walked over to pull the car door, and when she came over to support Shiler, she was pressed against the car by him.

"Too rude, sir." There was not much anger in the tone, only a smile with desire. She raised her neck, and the white neck and chest were connected in a line.

"Your school is not far from here, let me take you back?"

"Back where?"

The woman held Shiler's chin completely with one hand. The next second, one hand covered her mouth and nose. The woman widened her eyes, but soon she felt something pierce her neck skin, the medicine slowly flowed in, and the field of vision started to become hazy and dreamy.

"Sleep." This was the last sentence she heard before her consciousness disappeared.

The red car passed the bright lights of the mansion, drove into the deeper darkness, and then it was whiskey, whiskey, tequila... until the last glass of lemon martini.

It was indeed a night of passion. Shiler sat on the bed, while Strange looked at the messy room with disgust, and glared at Shiler who was planning to lower his head to light a cigarette again.

"No smoking in public places." He said.

"You go out, this is my private space now." Shiler's hand movements didn't stop at all, until he drove Strange out with the smell of smoke.

"Tomorrow is the party, aren't you planning to prepare?"

"Prepare what?" Shiler asked with a cigarette in his mouth.

"Uh... don't parties need preparation..."

Shiler with a cigarette in his mouth sneered, raised his face without hiding the mocking smile on his face, stared straight at Strange and said, "A pathetic little thing who has never attended a party indeed needs to prepare."