death of hope

Chapter 1040 "Psionic Storm" (113) Undercurrents

"Hello, buddy, good morning!"

The security guard picked his teeth and greeted his old colleague.

Hello…

Nate Wise forced a smile, greeted the security guard, and swiped his employee card to pass through the turnstile.

The blue-collar electrician's forehead was covered in fine beads of sweat, and vomit stains that hadn't been properly washed were still faintly visible on his uniform sleeves.
He walked with a hurried gait, like a tourist from out of town who was holding in his pee and desperately searching for a public restroom.

The security guard looked the electrician up and down, then chuckled.

"Hey buddy, did you lose at Texas Hold'em again?"

"without…"

"Who are you kidding? You can smell the alcohol on you from half a mile away."

"Is there...?" The electrician picked up his clothes and smelled them.

“Every time you lose money, you inevitably fight with your wife, slam the door, and go out for a late-night snack, ending up with a belly full of cat pee.”

"My old buddies really know me..."

The electrician sighed and walked towards the research institute building.

·
"Who are you talking to?" a voice came from inside the guard post.

"Hey, Nate Wise, that drunken electrician~"

The security guard watched the electrician walk away, spat the toothpick into the green belt, and turned to the security captain who was reading a newspaper in the guard booth.
"The old guy lost money playing cards again, so he's drowning his sorrows in alcohol. He came to work completely drunk," the security guard said, lighting a cigarette.

"Captain, what's going on today? There are so many drunkards!"
There were cleaners, electricians, and researchers, all reeking of alcohol, staggering through the turnstile—company rules prohibited them from entering.

"We're all in the same boat, just trying to make a living. Let's not make things difficult for each other, fellow sufferers!"

"Captain, that researcher in the white coat isn't a wage earner; his monthly salary is more than ours in a year."

"You don't know anything. As long as you don't have control over the capital, no matter how high the salary is, you're still just a lowly employee. Besides, those people in white coats don't have it easy either. They get yelled at by Old Qiao every day. Our director has a really bad temper."

·
The security captain put down his newspaper and pointed to a news article.
"Next week is going to be exciting. The old senator is coming to the city to put on some kind of parade to campaign for that big-bellied, fat black man's bid for colonial governor."

"Speaking of the governor, Captain, who are you planning to vote for?"

"Let's bet 78!"

The security captain slammed the newspaper down.
"The candidates for both the Red Party and the Green Party are a bunch of greedy, good-for-nothing idiots. They only want to be governors for political maneuvering and personal gain. If it's really a vote, I'll vote for myself! Pass the first policy and give every single man in the city a beautiful woman!"

"Hehe, that's great! I'll vote for the captain first, so you can be the governor!" the security guard said with a big laugh.

·
Three hours later, at the cafeteria in Zone D of the Psionic Research Institute.
Li Ang, carrying his tray, sat down opposite a blue-collar electrician, looked around, and whispered;
"How is it?"

"It's all taken care of..."

The electrician looked nervous, his hand holding the fork trembling. The pasta he picked up fell back onto the plate, splashing a drop of tomato sauce onto his nose.

“Don’t be nervous, I’ll take responsibility if there’s any trouble,” Li Ang handed over a pack of scented tissues. “Relax, you’ll make people suspicious if you act like this.”

"Thank you..." The electrician took the tissue, pulled out one to wipe his nose, and froze when he saw the dense text and diagrams on the tissue:
"This is?"

"Avoid the cameras. Check them when you're in the toilet." Li Ang patted the electrician on the shoulder, got up, and left the cafeteria.

·
In the elevator lobby, I bumped into Dr. Ryan Elsson, the second-in-command of the research institute after the director and the leader of Project Zero.
Li Ang remained calm and composed. He first told a vulgar joke, and then chatted with the other person about yesterday's Rose Bowl rugby game.

On the way downstairs to section B14, the elevator attendant, Higashiyama Ruriko, acted ambiguously, constantly rubbing her high heels against Dr. Ryan's ankles, her small hand reaching inside Ryan's white coat, seemingly grabbing at something.
Li Ang hummed a little tune, playing his PSP game console with his head down, pretending not to see anything.

Down in area B14, I bought a cup of coffee from a vending machine for Ryan. Because the cup had "Win another cup if you win" printed on it, Ryan was so happy that he decided to buy a lottery ticket that night.

Perhaps it was the antidepressants working, or perhaps it was his superb acting skills, but for weeks, Li Ang hadn't been in such good spirits, greeting everyone he met with enthusiasm.

The B14 area is quite large, and it took several turns to reach the destination. This small house in a corner is a storeroom where the cleaners store brooms, mops, and plastic buckets.

·
Li Ang knocked rhythmically, first twice, then once, and finally twice.
The person inside opened the door and let him in. The two talked quietly in the dark warehouse.

"How is it?"

"No...it's not done yet..."

"what?!"

Li Ang's tone was somewhat annoyed: "Didn't you agree so readily at the bar?"

The cleaning lady said tremblingly, "That armored truck robber in the morning news report, the one who stole a truckload of gold...wasn't that you...?"

Li Ang snorted; "Those bastards at Atlantic Bank... they set up debt traps and took away the houses that honest people saved their whole lives to buy. I'm doing this on behalf of God!" Li Ang continued to emphasize his words, speaking impatiently.
"Those cops are all good-for-nothings, they'll never solve a case in a hundred years. Even if something happens, I'll take the blame, what are you afraid of!"
"Give me a straight answer! Are you still going to work here or not?! If not, give me my money back and I'm going to find someone else!"

·
"I…"

The cleaner's voice trembled, clearly terrified.
"I started working at the age of 13, and spent half my life doing hard labor. I never fought back or talked back to those in power..."

This is the first time... I've had rebellious thoughts... I'm just very uneasy...

"You rascal! You lose all your guts once the alcohol wears off!" Li Ang complained, his tone softening as he spoke.
After all, the other party was just a commoner, unlike himself who received a noble warrior education and led troops to fight against various pirates and warlords from a young age. Li Ang thought for a moment and said.

“Sakura Corporation is lying, and the psionic genius, Meda, is lying. They are not serious criminals or debtors, but just ordinary people who have been kidnapped, good girls.”

The cleaner nodded: "It's precisely because I know these things...that I had the idea of ​​rebelling..."

·
Li Ang pressed down on the other person's shoulder and said softly, "Do you remember last night, when Ryan called the cleaner to clean the floor, there was a sticky thing on the floor. Do you know what that was?"

"Brain matter..."

The cleaner shuddered: "It must be that some gifted individual's skull exploded during an experiment..."

Li Ang gave a chilling smile: "You're quite clever, you've even learned to answer first."
Researchers used microwaves to irradiate Gifted Person No. 294 in an attempt to stimulate his psionic potential, and the child's head exploded like a bag of popcorn.

Even more tragically, Number 294's father was also a psionicist, but because his psionic signal was too weak, he didn't even deserve a number.
The middle-aged man, tortured to the point of near death, was left on a stretcher to await his demise. Just before the cleaners came to collect the body, I happened to overhear his dying whispers.
He said he deeply regretted gambling, which led to him incurring high-interest debts from gangs, causing his wife to be sold into a brothel, and himself and his son to be sold into a research institute as guinea pigs.

Before he died, the man clutched a family photo, repeatedly saying, "I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

The cleaner was shocked when he heard the red light. He grabbed his scalp with both hands and his legs twitched as if they were cramping.

"Don't…

Stop talking...stop talking...

Oh my god...

I'll go do it right away..."