Chapter 621

Obtaining intelligence during a mission is one of the most basic qualities of a killer.

Nobushige originally knew almost nothing about the situation around the target, but he managed to sneak into the apartment with the help of Takeshita's mother and daughter, and by the way, he judged from the "beer" and "men's cotton socks" that Mrs. Takeshita purchased that she was not a single mother. Borrowing information from the elevator, etc., to piece together a complete identity.

This identity may not be perfect, but it is enough just for knocking on the target's door.

Target indeed opened the door.

When he saw Nobushige with empty hands, he immediately realized something and quickly closed the door. However, it was too late at this time. Nobushige had already grabbed the door frame and was unable to compete with the power of the target.

"Mr. Hanoi, how about we chat?" Nobuhiro's attitude was very polite, as if he was really just a new resident who wanted to have a good relationship with his neighbors.

Large areas of cold sweat broke out on the target's forehead.

He knew that he was in danger and was about to die!

The next second, Nobushibu stepped into the apartment along the crack of the door.

The room was very messy, and it could be seen that the owner never tidied up the house, perhaps because he knew he would not live here long.

Nobushige noticed a flash of light outside the uncurtained window. It was the moonlight reflected from the scope of the sniper rifle. Chianti climbed onto the roof of the building next to him and pointed the scope at the target person. The so-called control of vision is actually to prevent the one-in-a-million situation where Mescal's mission fails.

Sorry.

Nobushige sighed silently, and at the same time, he had already taken out his pistol.

The target's pupils suddenly dilated: "Don't, don't kill me!"

He cried bitterly and begged for mercy, but the strange man in front of him didn't give him this chance at all. He is like a heartless robot, unable to see his sadness or despair. Human life is worthless in his eyes.

"Don't kill me!" The target fell to his knees on the ground with a fright, "I won't run away! I will continue painting! I will do whatever you want me to do! Don't kill me! I still have a wife and children! My child is only one year old ah!!"

He begged and crawled backwards as hard as he could.

And the sound of Mezcal's leather shoes buckling on the floor was like a reminder from the underworld, always surrounding his ears, scaring him out of his wits.

Nobushige's expression was originally calm, but when he heard the target say that his child was only one year old, an unbearable light flashed in his eyes.

But Nobushige knew he had no choice.

So Mescal raised his pistol at the target, with the black muzzle pointed at the target's brain. With just a slight pull of the trigger, he could end this person's fragile life.

Seeing that no matter how much he begged for mercy, the target could not shake the opponent's determination, he shed tears of regret or despair.

All the strength in his body was drained instantly, and he could only fall to the ground. Despite this, his eyes were always looking in one direction, with resentment and resentment on his face.

"You bunch of heartless demons! You have done all the bad things, and you will be punished by God one day! Just wait! Hahaha, I just took the first step, your fate will definitely be worse than mine! I will wait in hell. You!!" He laughed loudly and wildly, and crystal tears welled up from the corners of his eyes as he laughed.

"boom--"

Even with a silencer, the huge gunfire still rang out in the small room. The recoil of the pistol forced Nobuhiro's body to tremble and he took half a step back.

A flower of blood mixed with turbid brain matter exploded on the target's head, splattering everywhere on the floor and walls.

On a tall building in the distance, Chianti clearly saw what was happening in the apartment through the scope.

She curled her lips in boredom: "I don't have a chance to shoot."

Then he put his left hand on the headset and reported to Ginhui: "The target has been killed by Mescal and is confirmed dead."

"Retreat." Gin's instructions were brief and clear. Considering that Mescal, who was busy finishing the work, might not hear it, he repeated it to him on the other side of the communication, "Retreat from the apartment immediately."

However, there was silence in the headphones, without any sound.

Gin frowned and his voice became colder: "Mezcal?"

In the apartment, Nobuhiro finally came to his senses. He regained his consciousness slightly and said in a hoarse voice: "Yes, I understand."

The target's blood kept flowing, gradually flowing from the position where he fell to the soles of Nobushige's feet. The thick blood stained his shoes and pulled his heart toward the endless abyss.

"The 37th one." Nobuhiro murmured in a low voice as he stared at the man with a dead expression.

Excluding those who died indirectly because of him, this was the thirty-seventh person he killed with his own hands. He went through the same process thirty-seven times.

He thought his heart was as cold as ice, but when he saw death again, he was inevitably shaken.

Is the value that Mescal, an undercover agent, created for the police and the red side really worth these thirty-seven lives?

Life should not be measured by quantity, but in reality, no one can truly be absolutely fair.

Nobushige cleaned up all the traces he left, including the blood stains on the soles of his shoes. The bright moon outside the window seemed to have noticed the tragedy that happened here and cried for it. The thick dark clouds blocked the only light in the night, leaving only the suffocating darkness.

He searched the target's body for the template and turned around to leave, just like he had done thirty-six times before.

However, the eyes of the man lying in a pool of blood had obviously lost their brightness, but he was still staring firmly in a certain direction. Following his line of sight, a photo caught Nobuhiro's eyes.

The background of the photo is a green grassland. A beautiful and gentle woman is sitting on her knees, showing a dependent smile to the man next to her, and she is holding a young baby in her arms.

Without organization, what should the frustrated painter be doing now?

Probably living an ordinary and happy life with his wife and children. There is no luxurious apartment, but the small home will be kept warm and tidy by the virtuous wife; there will be no expensive suits, but the cotton coat sewn by the wife herself will exude a faint scent of soap; there will be no cool and exciting job, but you can be happy every day In the afternoon, I saw smiling children at the entrance of the kindergarten.

He could have had such a life, but everything ended in...

Nobuhiro looked down at his hands, a wry smile escaping from the corner of his mouth.

He turned around.

At that moment, all the emotions that should not have existed in his eyes disappeared. He is mezcal, the mezcal of the night, the mezcal without a heart.

"The mission was successfully completed and we have safely evacuated." Nobushige reported indifferently into the earphone.