Conan: I'm just an ordinary novelist

"Useless! They are all a bunch of useless! Cough cough cough!!!"

The old man's chest was heaving violently, and his slightly thin back was shaking constantly because of coughing.

In the darkness behind him,

The staff in white coats quickly reached out and touched his chest:

"Boss, please take care of yourself. You can't..."

"Get out! Cough cough! Cough cough cough!!!"

Obviously, the BOSS was not very grateful.

He also knew that he shouldn't have such strong emotional ups and downs, but Rum was an old man under his command.

He was defeated so easily by the opponent!

They even openly sent themselves the video of the other person's struggle before his "death".

Provocation, naked provocation!

The subordinate on the side did not say anything, but just stood there as usual, lowered his head and waited respectfully for the other party to speak.

Those who can serve him personally are all zombies who have been trained and processed since childhood.

They only follow orders and don't argue.

The boss, who had finally stopped coughing, took two deep breaths, picked up his phone and called Vermouth.

The Thousand-Faced Witch, who had just watched Yun Xianhe leave, was obviously still a little worried that the other party might leave some backup plan in the room.

Gin, who had just woken up, was frowning and checking on Rum.

Vermouth saw that the madman must have wanted to shoot the other person with a gun.

Vodka is checking the room.

After confirming again and again that there were no monitors or eavesdropping devices in the room, Vermouth sighed softly, walked forward with a headache and took a look at Rum, who was lying on the bed, uncertain whether he was dead or alive.

Good news, the other party is still alive.

There's a high probability that he passed out from the anesthetic or something.

Just as she was about to ask someone to carry Rum to the underground clinic they had built with great difficulty, the cell phone in her pocket rang.

"Boss, it's me. What can I do for you?"

"Where's Rum?"

The old man on the other end of the phone had a hoarse voice.

Vermouth recalled what she saw when she woke up just now, the white-haired, red-eyed boy taking Rum's cell phone.

Could it be that he sent something in the voice of Rum?

The thoughts in my mind are mixed.

However, Vermouth quickly checked Rum's condition and said truthfully:

"He's unconscious, probably because of the anesthetic. Boss, do you need me to wake him up?"

"No need. Send someone to take him to the lab. Someone will take care of him there. Let them figure out what the poison in Rum is."

"poison?"

What kind of poison? Wasn't Rum unconscious?

When Vermouth woke up, Rum had already been infected with the vegetative virus.

She only saw the group of people giving each other anesthetics.

The boss on the other end of the phone did not answer her question and his tone was a little cold.

"Vermouth, you talk too much. Instead of being curious, you should think about how to get back with Gin and the others."

Even if you are a favored subordinate, the best thing is to be useful.

Being imprisoned by others for a long time, he is unable to perform his duties.

It also caused the owner to lose countless gold and silver and a large number of manpower.

In this situation, the other party will inevitably feel resentful.

As the leader who can build such a huge dark organization by himself,

How could he be as kind as he shows to the outside world?

Knowing that their current situation was very embarrassing, Vermouth paused and looked at Rum, who was still unconscious, with some sympathy.

This is the elder of their organization...

Although they say that someone is taking care of her, in fact, she has been abandoned.

No, maybe because of the research value and those so-called face-saving projects, the other party will provide Rum with retirement care.

Vermouth did not refute the boss's words, but just agreed.

Sure enough, the next moment I heard the other party say:

"During the time that Rum is recuperating, the intelligence team will be temporarily handed over to you to lead. Vermouth, you are my favorite child, you should not let me down, right? Bring me good news within a month at the latest."

The devil made the request.

The man whose neck was tied with a transparent rope felt his throat tighten and responded in a deep voice:

"Yes BOSS."

Before Vermouth could finish her words, the person on the other end of the phone hung up.

Gin, who was standing by, watched her changing expression and a cruel smile appeared on the corner of his mouth.

"Kill?"

The madman who said this had already raised his newly bought Beretta and pointed the muzzle of the gun at Rum's forehead without any hesitation.

Vermouth looked at him helplessly:

"The boss asked us to send it to the research lab."

"Tsk."

The winery's Top1 put away his gun a little impatiently, took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.

In the smoke, Gin thought in a daze as he watched Rum being carried away on a stretcher by the others.

He hasn't killed anyone in a long time.

No, ever since he faced that group of abnormal lunatics, he has not been able to successfully kill any one!

Gin became more and more angry the more he thought about it, and took a deep puff of the cigarette between his fingertips.

He let the smoky smell fill his lungs, and then crushed the remaining cigarette butt on the bedside table.

He glanced at the perfectly trimmed flowers in the glass, picked them up, and slammed them to the ground.

A huge shattering sound echoed in the empty room.

Vermouth took a step back to avoid the flying glass fragments.

She looked at Gin, who had a gloomy face, and glanced at the scattered white chrysanthemums:

"Rum is useless."

"Ok?"

When Gin heard the news, he was stunned for a moment, and then quickly realized what the other party meant.

This is not exactly good news.

After all, trapped in the city of romance, they now belong to a group of people with limited value.

If they can never go back, the boss will definitely develop new subordinates.

A knife will only be kept if it is valuable.

This is the fate of a killer.

嘀、

The message notification sound was like a death warrant.

Gin silently took out the organization's dedicated contact phone.

After reading the requirements clearly, he tightened his grip on the phone, but finally replied with a "received" to the other party.

After digesting the information just revealed by Vermouth and the command on the phone,

He put his hands in the pockets of his windbreaker, ruthlessly crushed the white chrysanthemums on the ground, and strode out of the room.

A top killer doesn't have time to be sentimental.

If he fails to give that adult a satisfactory answer, today's Rum will become tomorrow's him.

"Big brother!"

Vodka beside him hurriedly followed.

Vermouth stayed where she was, looking at the petals scattered on the ground, and sneered after a while.

Aren't they the same?

·

Deep in the mountains and old forests.

After hanging up the phone, the boss leaned heavily back in his chair.

He lowered his eyes to glance at the code-named members of the organization listed on the computer screen, then clicked on another folder.

This folder contains all the relevant information that the Black Organization has collected about celebrities, scientists, researchers, etc. in the world.

Listed at the front, in the information marked in red.

In that secretly taken photo, the boy's sickly smile was particularly eye-catching.

The boss narrowed his eyes.

He took a close look at the other party's information and was somewhat wary of the country behind the other party.

Plus the other party himself is not short of money and other items.

Even fame can be easily obtained as long as the other party wants it.

Logically speaking, there is nothing that can attract such a person.

This resulted in the boss giving up the idea of ​​recruiting this person after careful consideration when he first discovered him.