Puzzle Madness

Chapter 125 Pre-job training
The fat man's face showed mischief, embarrassment, uneasiness, and even more confusion:

"The baby I give birth to—well, I can't really control what its face will look like. It'll basically be the same face you just saw: like a mall mannequin, probably not very human."

The [security guard] scratched his nose in disappointment and took the photo back. The remains of the newborn in the carriage—those scraps of paper—had been completely blown away by the hot wind and scattered to every corner of the alley.

"It's all right, it's all right: we'll think of a way, there's always a solution."

His tone wasn't like he was facing an enemy, but rather a less capable colleague on the team:
"Oh, get your buddy up; take that standard injection you have and give him a shot. He won't die, but you can't just leave him like this."

As the [security guard] spoke, he unbuttoned and took off his gray-blue security short-sleeved shirt. He rolled it up into a ball, wiped the blood from his palms and neck, and stuffed the bulging shirt into his back pocket.
[Security Guard]'s torso is covered in scars, some raised and some sunken, coiled around him like little worms; he looks like a star in an action movie with overly exaggerated makeup.

The tense atmosphere disappeared, like an air conditioner that stopped working and dissipated in the summer.

The community is still quiet.

The battle ahead involved gunfire, fire, and even swords; if it weren't for the wrecked Toyota Hiace, passersby would have thought a circus had just toured this alley.
However, there was not a single passerby or bystander, and the dump trucks on the road did not slow down.

The obese man stood up tremblingly, walked over the various equipment that had been cut into pieces; he pulled up the crew cut guy who was twisting and turning in the driver's seat, and took out a needleless syringe from his inner pocket.
Just as he entered, the [security guard] suddenly patted the backrest of the driver's seat:

"Hey guys, can you still walk? Is that guy with the crew cut recovering? Just come and help me out. I want to use that old guy across the street to test something."

"Hey—come on, after you get your shot, head this way. My car is parked over there."
-
"Aloha'oe~~ until we meet again"

The [security guard] walked in front, humming a little tune; the guy with a crew cut and the fat man followed behind.

He barely even turned his head, seemingly not caring about these two temporary captives at all.

Two Asia-Europe Postal field workers who were originally acting as observers - none of them escaped; one began to breathe heavily after taking a few steps, and the other staggered and muttered to himself, and it was hard to tell how much consciousness he had.

The [security guard's] car was parked inside the railway dormitory. The guard booth was empty, and no one knew where the real "security guard" had gone.

It was also a van—a Nissan Wanda—parked carelessly at the door, looking crooked.
"Oh! This one, this one."

The [security guard] patted the hot iron, opened the car door, pulled a brightly colored floral shirt from the driver's seat, put it on, and then opened the trunk--
A sweltering stench filled my nostrils, mostly the smell of dried sweat, dampness, and a hint of urine.

There were six or seven people sitting or lying down inside; both men and women—
Their clothes were disheveled but clean, but they were all drenched in sweat. Fear accumulated in their eyes, and their bodies trembled with it.

The wrists and ankles were bound together with bright white plastic ties; these plastic handcuffs dug deep into the flesh and cut blood.

The fat man suddenly had an idea: This might be one of the reasons why this community is so quiet.

But neither the fat man nor the guy with the buzz cut asked any questions—they wished they could zip their mouths shut.

Although he was no longer in his security uniform, the [security guard] was even more talkative than before:

"Sorry to bother you two again, buddy. The employer this time isn't very helpful. The mission environment is so complicated, and they're not cooperating with me at all."

"Normally I'd have a few assistants to help me out, but assistants are paid well these days. I was thinking, why not take on some apprentices? You know, like interns?"

"If I need to assign some simple tasks in the future, I can let them do it themselves. All I need to do is give me 30 percent of the reward. Will you accept it?"

“It’s hard to say, young people these days are so materialistic. Sigh, you big company guys would never understand the struggles of being a small business owner.” The crew-cut guy mumbled a few incoherent words to himself, while the fat man quickly chimed in. He wiped the cold sweat from his hands on his coat, a fawning smile plastered on his face:

"Indeed, you sound like you have a hard time. Well, I still have a quota for internal referrals—"

"Would you consider joining our company? This, um, this gentleman."

The [security guard] waved his hand and scoffed. His face wrinkled up as if he had seen something disgusting.

"No, no, I'm just complaining. The atmosphere at places like Asia-Europe Post is far from pure. I do this job primarily because I love it; the pay is secondary."

"When choosing a career, interest is very important; and the work environment must be compatible with that interest."

"Look: killing people is fun; making money is great; helping others solve their problems is great. Put together, isn't this—"

Ooooh!

A sudden whine interrupted the [security guard]'s words.

The "hostages" in the carriage had their mouths stuffed with balls of old newspapers, and towels were tied deep into their mouths, causing the corners of their mouths to crack.

Somehow, the uncle closest to the outside suddenly started howling; the sheep-like cry squeezed out of his throat, sounding like a filial son in front of a mourning hall.

The [security guard] suddenly approached, grabbed one of the man's fingers, and gently twisted it. With a crackling sound, the index finger folded back like a ruler, pressing against the back of the hand.
"Go ahead and shout, and stop when you're tired."

Ehhhhh——
The screams were indeed louder, even causing the people next to him to lose control of their bladder; the pungent smell was even stronger.

[The security guard] folded his hands over his chest, adjusted his sunglasses from time to time, and even yawned; the obese man had no choice but to wait on the side with a buzz cut.

He was right - shouting really makes people tired quickly. In less than a few minutes, the uncle who was rolling around was exhausted.

The [security guard] drew his knife and, amidst the sudden screams of fear, cut several cable ties around the ankles; then he grabbed the two hostages, one in each hand, and grasped their arms.

"Mr. Fat? Help me get one."

The [security guard] held a hostage in each hand, half lifting and half pulling, as he walked in front of the obese man; the rear door of the Nissan Wanda closed again, locking the remaining people inside.

The guy with the crew cut regained some strength, but he walked unsteadily; the fat man's other elbow was squeezing an elderly hostage, and he was shaking constantly.

This small temporary group--
No one knew the [security guard's] name, not even a code name, but no one ran away; they all followed the short, muscular man.

The fat man even held the hostage tighter to prevent him from running around on the road - he himself didn't understand why he did this.

Dump trucks rumbled by, honking their horns. Kidnappers and kidnapped were huddled together like elementary school students crossing a zebra crossing, their guards leading the way.

By the time the group reached the other side of the street, the [Plastic Immortal] had already woken up and was hiding in the shadows by the wall, lost in thought.

This old man might have been the only witness to the recent commotion—but judging from his dazed look, he had merely heard some unusual noises.

(End of this chapter)