"Give me a suitable distance, and God can kill me!" - war lord zero
The dream is like a faded old photo, shrouded in a faint yellow color.
"Hahaha... Come after me..."
"... fool... You want to come back alive..."
"What? Propose to me when you come back? I... I didn't say I would marry you..."
"... unless... You bring 999 roses... Then I will reluctantly marry you... Hahaha..."
Silver bell like laughter echoed in the dream, soft and cheerful.
The swaying white figure, like a lily in the wind, is tender and pitiful.
I can't see my face clearly, but a pair of clear eyes flash. Whose figure is reflected in the gentle eyes?
"Li..." in the dream, he gently called out a name, but there was no response.
As before, the dream gradually disappeared like a bubble, and he was about to fall into a deep sleep for an unknown period of time.
This time, however, some accidents happened.
Vaguely, he seemed to hear something else.
"... hell... I thought I could find some treasure. It turned out to be a smelly man!"
"Hahaha, Hans. Aren't you hungry and thirsty? I've heard that the 13-year-old Rumba boy was fucked by you."
A burst of unbearable laughter began.
"Shut up! Be careful I stab your chrysanthemum. However, this boy looks very beautiful. I haven't been a handsome man in the old times. I can't say I can open today."
In the wave of laughter, he suddenly felt something touching his body.
The depths of consciousness immediately send a signal, and dozens of data are immediately transmitted to all parts of the body. I don't know how long he slept, but his movement was only about 5 percentage points slower than that in his heyday. The body first moved 30 cm horizontally, then suddenly sat up and fished to the right with the inertia of the hand. The cold metal feeling came.
The arm was raised and the cold and heavy object was stabbed upward. He didn't open his eyes until the touch of the real object came.
After a brief discomfort, his eyes gradually focused, so he saw an obscene face. Judging from brown hair and pale skin, the other party should be white. Now, the owner of this face, his chin was held against a shiny black barrel, and his eyes were intertwined with a complex expression of fear and anger.
"God, he's awake."
"Hey, boy. Let Hans go, or we'll be rude to you!"
The confused voice came from behind the white man, and his eyes looked over the "hostage" in his hand. There were more than a dozen men dressed as miners, with black and white skin, and even two yellow people. They have weapons in their hands, and if shovel and hammer can be called weapons. There is no doubt that they have targeted him with these tools that can show violence.
He was silent, and the chaotic pictures in his mind could not sort out what was known as memory. He doesn't know where he is now and who he is facing. He doesn't even remember who he is. Vaguely, the picture of wearing a straight military uniform flashed in my mind.
Maybe I'm a soldier? Maybe!
This is an unanswered question. However, even in thinking, his hand is as firm as iron. The black barrel of the micro automatic machine gun in his hand has not moved even a millimeter.
Anyone could see that this micro machine gun could instantly shoot Hans's head into a horse honeycomb.
Hans was wet with sweat when he was held against the barrel of the gun. Hatefully, he didn't even dare to change his posture to make himself stand more comfortable. That will lead to misunderstanding, and then the next second, hundreds of bullets will turn his head into a rotten balloon.
After the confrontation lasted for a minute, Hans's legs began to tremble. Seeing that the situation was about to get out of control, there was a commotion in the crowd. The people of all colors surrounding him retreated on both sides, and an old man came in.
This man obviously belongs to two different classes from the miners.
He wore a ragged leather jacket and a gray blue tweed plaid shirt inside. The lower body is a pair of oil stained jeans and a pair of black military boots. Such collocation is naturally nondescript, but it is different from these naked miners.
The old man swam on him and Hans with a pipe and a snake like light in his eyes. Finally, he said in a deep voice, "let him go, survivor. You can use a gun, which is good. It shows that you are a soldier. My old Jack is short of talents like you. Soldiers like you don't have to contend with dogs like Hans, do you?"
Despite the gun to his chin, Hans's eyes flashed with resentment.
He opened his mouth and said in a soft but slightly hoarse voice, "how can I trust you?"
Old Jack puffed out a smoke ring and said slowly, "in this base, I am God. No one dares to violate my voice, so don't worry, these bastards don't dare to trouble you. Besides, you have a gun in your hand. Although it's a slight impact of the old times, it's enough to shoot anyone, including me."
"But if you kill us all, no one will tell survivors like you what the world has become," old Jack added.
The barrel, a little off Hans's chin. The latter's legs were soft and he had sat down on the ground. The first few miners rushed up and pulled him down.
He sat up straight with his micro machine gun on his thigh. The muzzle of the gun was still facing the people, maintaining a ready to shoot attitude.
Old Jack seemed to turn a blind eye to the machine gun. He went up, took out his pipe and asked, "welcome to the end of the world, but life has to go on anyway. So, do you mind telling me your name, survivor?"
name?
To be honest, he can't remember. But he noticed that there was the word "zero" on the thing similar to the hibernation barn where he was.
So he raised his head and said the name that would be praised by countless people: "my name is... Zero..."
"Zero..." old Jack said the simple name and noticed that the man named zero had a pair of eyes of different colors.
The left eye is dark, just like an ordinary yellow man.
However, his right eye is dazzling gold. Like the eyes of a dragon, it seems that the edges of the eyes plated with gold have silver lines. Just like and his origin, it shows a mysterious smell.