Endless Debt.

Chapter 64
A good brother who was born and died.

Along the way, Palmer kept whispering in his ear.

Eyebrows danced, his expression was contrived, as if he was conducting some kind of hypnotic experiment, trying to penetrate the idea of ​​"Palmer is a good brother" deeply into his heart.

"Let me tell you, the Field Service Department is really not a place for people to stay."

Pal was rambling, and Burrog squinted at him with a strange expression on his face.

Under his constant emphasis, Bologo always felt that the word "good brother" had changed somewhat, but he couldn't tell exactly what was wrong.

"Ah... I suddenly want to go home, but when I go home, those smelly old men will mutter to me, if I don't go home, I have to work here."

Palmer had a serious tendency towards work-weariness.

"So you won't be fired for being so passive?" asked Burlogo.

"No, sabotage, but also to grasp the 'degree' of sabotage."

"for example?"

"For example, in a situation where the boss is upset when he sees it, but he still doesn't want to fire me," Palmer shrugged, "but it's impossible, I'm from the Clakes family, Our family is one of the founders of the Bureau of Order, and without the consent of our stinky old men, the Bureau of Order cannot fire me."

"As a precious heir, if you die in a mission, won't your elders be furious?"

Burlogo still has some respect for the mysterious Clakes family, and he didn't describe it as a "smelly old man" like Palmer.

"Do you think I haven't told them?" After talking about this, Palmer suddenly became emotional, "They said that if I die so easily, it can only mean that they have misjudged me. Just make an heir."

"Is this the cruelty of the big family?"

"There's something wrong with those old brains!" Palmer vetoed.

"Speaking of which, from childhood to adulthood, I was pulled by these stinky old men to learn this and that. I also went to the military academy and came to the Bureau of Order."

Palmer chattered a few words, calmed down, glanced at Bologo, and said, "Don't worry, I'm optimistic, I just like to complain."

Looking at his forced smile, Burlogo wanted to laugh, but couldn't help it.

In Palmer's mouth, the Department of Field Service is like a wolf's den, and he is a completely tragic figure.

Bologo thinks that he is a patient with some mental illness, but in the Bureau of Order, people like himself seem to be quite common. Have serious mental problems.

Although he is full of optimism, but thinking of Palmer's fatal "gift", it is really difficult to explain it with optimism, and it feels more like a joy in bitterness.

Of course, Burlogo felt that he didn't know Palmer well enough, and no one knew what this "lucky hapless ghost" really looked like.

Maybe the decadence and complaints in front of him are all masks he used to pretend?
But to be honest, Palmer was full of complaints, but was entrusted with a heavy responsibility by a group of high-ranking people. It was obviously a life-and-death duel, but he played it like an action comedy.

Such people are really rare, at least Burlog has not met.

"Speaking of which, Palmer, you always mention that I will not die, why? Do you care about this?" Burrog asked curiously.

"How could you not care about it! That's immortality!" Palmer said incoherently, "At best, I'm lucky, but you really won't die!"

"Well...Actually, I think, it's okay, sometimes I feel that the price I pay is not only the soul."

Bologo sighed as if thinking of something.

"Like?" Palmer asked.

"For example, I'm quite unlucky. Jeffrey often says this about me. I always fail to encounter good things. Even if good things happen, I will soon usher in a bad ending."

Looking back at my own life carefully, it seems that there is no problem with this understanding.

To serve as a soldier for a living, he encountered the most dangerous battle and sold his soul to the devil. After a few days, he was arrested and put in a black prison. He was finally released. Under the care of Adele, he felt It was a little bit beautiful, but in the end...

"Huh? Then we can count as two unlucky people getting together, and there will be no problems if we act together in the future?"

Burlogo realized that this was a serious problem.

"No, no, at most one and a half, I'm still half lucky, don't forget."

Palmer emphasized that he was able to survive the successive bad luck, all relying on that little bit of luck.

"However, it's pretty good to have a teammate who won't die."

Palmer continued, eyes averted, as if hiding something.

"Are you hiding something?"

"Nothing, nothing."

Palmer shook his head vigorously.

"You'd better explain yourself, Palmer."

Burrog's tone hardened.

The two stood at the gate of the Bureau of Order. Both sides of the broad street were full of vehicles, pedestrians were busy, and the hustle and bustle brought the vitality of the world, wandering between the two.

"Well, you also know that I may encounter bad luck at any time, but this bad luck will not only affect myself, sometimes it may cause my teammates to suffer because of my bad luck."

Palmer talked about this, looking at the dark clouds in the distance, with a melancholy tone.

"Tell me a joke, when you came to rescue me, I really fell because of a slipped foot."

"Really?"

"real."

Burlog was taken aback, "Huh? Really? This is too stupid."

"So, that's it!" Palmer screamed. "There will always be such strange things!"

"After I became a debtor, I performed several missions with the team. This situation always happened, not only affecting the mission, but also affecting my teammates. Forced by helplessness, I turned to acting alone."

"So you are lucky that your bad luck won't kill me? Even if I die, I can still come back to life." Bologo asked.

"Almost, at least I don't have to have any psychological burden, worrying about whether I will kill my teammates in the next second."

Palmer said candidly, "I know it sounds cruel, treating you like a tool that doesn't wear out..."

"It's nothing ruthless," Burlogo interrupted Palmer, and he said in a very serious manner, "that's what experts are. Worrying about possible variables is also one of the professional qualities of experts."

This time Palmer was stunned, recalling Burlogo's efficient and fierce posture before, looking at Burlogo from an expert's point of view, there seemed to be no problem.

An expert at dealing with trouble.

Staring at Bologo carefully, when Palmer told his embarrassing story, a smile flashed across Bologo's face, and then he returned to indifference, looking at himself with the same contemptuous look look.

"Speaking of which, why do you always have that look in your eyes? It makes people very uneasy." Palmer asked cautiously.

"Because I'm short-sighted."

"what?"

"Well, it's quite inconvenient to wear glasses, and they will always break," Borrog said, concentrating his eyes, no longer contemptuous, and his eyes became sharper, "But it's not completely myopic, I just want to take it seriously When you’re looking at something, you need to keep your eyes on it.”

The sharp eyes swept across his body, like a cold sharp knife rubbing along the skin, Palmer shuddered and said hastily.

"Forget it, forget it, you'd better look at me contemptuously."

The serious expression collapsed, and then turned into an indifferent look. For some reason, Palmer felt a rare kindness when he looked at the expressionless Burlogo.

"Oh, that's my motorcycle, remember to wear a helmet."

Palmer said and pointed to a sidecar motorcycle in front of the Order Bureau. It was the one that Burlogo had seen before. Palmer seemed to like it very much, and the body was polished and shiny.

"You look like you like motorcycles," Burlogo said. "It reminds me of those motorcycle gangs who disturb the people by racing in the middle of the night."

A look of embarrassment flashed across Palmer's face. Here, Burlogo can be sure that Palmer must be one of the psychopaths who raced at midnight.

"Why? We're called a motorcycle club," Palmer said dryly. "Although there must be some of us who are so immoral, most of us are good people and don't do that kind of thing." bad thing."

This made Burlogo even more convinced.

Sighing, Bologo didn't bother to say anything more, put on his helmet, and sat in the sidecar on the side of the motorcycle.

Palmer stepped on the motorcycle and said to Burlogo excitedly.

"'Lycra' is fast, don't be afraid."

A smile formed on Burlog's lips.

The sidecar motorcycle moved on the street, and Burlogo also relaxed, sitting in the sidecar, enjoying a short time of leisure, but when Palmer was waiting for the red light, there was a sharp and piercing sound of brakes.

I saw a heavy truck go straight through the red light and hit Palmer head-on.

Out-of-control steel creations.

The frenzied roar of the engine.

Screeching brake noise.

The screams of passers-by.

The burning smell of tires rubbing against the ground.

The heavy truck passed Palmer with billows of yellow smoke, and crashed into a street lamp on the corner of the street.

Sweat trickled down Palmer's brow as he was almost knocked over by the van, which nearly brushed past him.

"So, this kind of thing happens all the time... But, I'm really lucky."

After the thrill, Palmer let out a long breath, showing off.

"You say yes, Bologo."

No one responded.

"Borrow...Ge?"

Palmer turned his head and saw that a large piece of metal had been wiped off the sidebar, and Burrog, who was supposed to be sitting in it, also disappeared at this moment.

The whole person froze for a few seconds, and then Palmer burst into tears.

"Bologo!"

Following Palmer's cries, a bloody figure climbed up from under the truck, the dented helmet still hanging firmly on his head.

"what……"

Burrog groaned, beginning to hate his partner.

(End of this chapter)