Good brothers who have been through life and death.
Along the way, Palmer kept mumbling in his ears.
His eyebrows were beaming and his expression was artificial, as if he was conducting some kind of hypnotic experiment, trying to drive the idea that "Palmer is a good brother" deep into his heart.
"Let me tell you, the field department is really no place for people to stay."
As Parr rambled on, Boluogo looked at him sideways, with a strange expression on his face.
Under his constant emphasis, Boluogo always felt that the word "good brother" had changed a bit, but he couldn't tell what was wrong.
"Ah... I suddenly want to go home, but as soon as I get home those stinky old men will tell me that if I don't go home, I have to work here."
Palmer has a serious tendency to dislike work.
"Speaking of which, won't you be fired if you are so passive and sabotage your work?" Bologo asked.
"No, if you are passive and sabotage, you must also grasp the 'degree' of passiveness and sabotage."
"for example?"
"For example, if you are in a situation where your boss is upset, but he is still reluctant to fire me," Palmer shrugged, "But this is impossible, I am from the Clerks family.
Our family is one of the founders of the Bureau of Order, and without the consent of the stinky old men in our family, the Bureau of Order cannot fire me."
"As a precious heir, if you die in the mission, won't your family's elders be furious?"
Burlogo still had some respect for the mysterious Clerks family, and did not describe them as "stinky old men" like Palmer.
"Do you think I haven't told them?" Palmer suddenly became emotional after talking about this. "What they said is that if I die so easily, it only means that they are wrong.
Just create an heir."
"Is this the cruelty of a big family?"
"There's something wrong with those stinky old heads!" Palmer objected.
"Speaking of it, ever since I was little, I have been dragged into one thing by these stinky old men, even when I went to the military academy, and when I came to the Order Bureau."
Palmer chattered a few words and calmed down. He glanced at Boluogo and said, "Don't worry, I'm very optimistic. I just like to complain."
Seeing his forced smile, Boluogo wanted to laugh, but tried not to laugh.
In Palmer's words, the Field Office is like a den of wolves and tigers, and he is a completely tragic figure.
Boluogo considers himself a patient with some mental illness, but in the Bureau of Order, people like him seem to be quite common. Not to mention those who sublimated the furnace core, his partner alone
Have serious mental problems.
Although he is full of optimism, when thinking about Palmer's fatal "gift", it is really difficult to explain it with optimism, and it feels more like joy in hardship.
Of course, Burlogo felt that he didn't know Palmer well enough, and no one knew what this "lucky wretch" was like.
Maybe the decadence and complaints in front of him are all masks he uses to disguise himself?
But to be honest, Palmer was full of complaints, but he was entrusted with important tasks by a group of people in high positions. It was obviously a life-and-death duel, but he fought like an action comedy.
Such people are really rare, at least Boluogo has never met him.
"Come to think of it, Palmer, you always mention that I won't die. Why? Do you care about this?" Bologo asked curiously.
"How could you not care? That's immortality!" Palmer began to speak incoherently, "At best, I am blessed with great fortune, but you are truly immortal!"
"Well...actually, I think it's okay. Sometimes I feel that the price I paid is more than just my soul."
Boluogo sighed as if he had thought of something.
"Like?" Palmer asked.
"For example, I am quite unlucky. Jeffrey often said this to me. I never encounter good things. Even if I do encounter good things, I will soon have a bad ending."
If you look back at your life carefully, it seems that there is nothing wrong with understanding it this way.
In order to make a living, he joined the army, and ended up encountering the most dangerous war. He sold his soul to the devil. Within a few days, he was arrested and imprisoned in a dark prison. He was finally released. Under the care of Adele, he felt
There was a little bit of happiness, but the result was again...
"Ah? Then we are two unlucky people who got together. There won't be any problems if we act together in the future, right?"
Boluogo 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 his ability to survive in the face of successive misfortunes was entirely dependent on a little bit of luck.
"But, it's pretty good to have a teammate who won't die."
Palmer continued, his eyes evasive, as if he was hiding something.
"Are you hiding something?"
"Nothing, nothing."
Palmer shook his head vigorously.
"You'd better speak plainly, Palmer."
Boluogo's tone became tougher.
The two of them stood at the entrance of the Order Bureau. The wide street was lined with vehicles and pedestrians, and the noise brought earthly life to them, lingering between them.
"Well, you know that I can't tell when I will encounter bad luck, but this bad luck will not only affect myself, but sometimes my teammates may also suffer because of my bad luck."
When Palmer talked about this, he looked at the dark clouds in the distance and sounded melancholy.
"To tell you a joke, the time you came to save me, I really slipped and fell."
"real?"
"real."
Boluogo was stunned, "Huh? Really? This is too stupid."
"So, that's it!" Palmer screamed, "There are always weird things like this!"
"After I became a debtor, I went on several missions with the team. This situation always happened, which not only affected the mission, but also affected my teammates. I had no choice but to act alone."
"So are you lucky that your bad luck can't kill me? Even if you die, I can survive." Boluogo asked.
"Absolutely. At least I don't have to worry about whether I will kill my teammates in the next second."
Palmer said candidly, "I know it sounds a bit heartless, treating you like a tool that won't wear out..."
"There's nothing ruthless," Burlogo interrupted Palmer and said in a very serious manner, "That's what experts are like. Worrying about possible variables is also one of the professional qualities of experts."
This time, Palmer was stunned. Recalling Bologg's efficient and ferocious attitude before, looking at Bologg from an expert's perspective, there seemed to be nothing wrong with him.
An expert in dealing with trouble.
Staring at Boluogo carefully, when Palmer told his embarrassing story, a smile flashed across Boluogo's face, and then returned to indifference, looking at himself with the same contemptuous look.
Look.
"Tell me, why do you always look like that? It makes me very uneasy." Palmer asked cautiously.
"Because I'm a little short-sighted."
"ah?"
"Well, wearing glasses is quite inconvenient, and they will always break," Boluogo said, focusing his gaze, no longer contemptuous, and his eyes became sharp, "But it's not completely myopic, I just want to take it seriously.
When it comes to certain things, you need to pay close attention.”
His sharp eyes swept across his body, like a cold sharp knife rubbing along his skin. Palmer's hair stood on end and he said quickly.
"Forget it, forget it, just look at me with contempt."
The serious expression paralyzed and turned back to an indifferent look. For some reason, Palmer felt a rare kindness when looking at the expressionless Boluogo.
"Oh, that's my motorcycle, remember to put on your helmet."
As he spoke, Palmer pointed to a sidecar motorcycle in front of the Order Bureau. It was the same one that Bologna had seen before. Palmer seemed to like it very much, and the body was polished.
"You seem to like motorcycles," Bologo said. "It reminds me of those motorcycle gangs who race in the middle of the night and disturb the public."
A look of embarrassment flashed across Palmer's face, and here Borogo could be sure that one of the lunatics who raced at midnight must be Palmer.
"How could it be? We are called a motorcycle club," Palmer said dryly. "Although there are definitely some of us who are so immoral, most of us are still good people and would not do that kind of thing."
Bad things."
This made Boluogo even more convinced.
Sighing, Boluogo didn't bother to say anything more, put on his helmet, and sat in the sidecar on the side of the motorcycle.
Palmer got on the motorcycle and said to Bologo excitedly.
"'Laika' is very fast, don't be afraid."
A smile appeared on Boluogo's lips.
The sidecar motorcycle began to move on the street, and Boluogo also relaxed and sat in the sidecar, enjoying a brief moment of leisure. But just as Palmer was waiting at the red light, a sharp and ear-piercing sound of braking came.
A heavy truck crashed through the red light and hit Palmer head-on.
An out-of-control steel creation.
The engine roars feverishly.
Harsh brake sound.
The screams of passers-by.
The burning smell caused by the friction between tires and the ground.
The heavy truck passed Palmer with billowing yellow smoke and hit the street light on the corner.
Cold sweat slowly flowed down Palmer's forehead. He was almost knocked over by the truck, and the truck almost brushed his body.
"So, this kind of thing happens all the time...but I'm really lucky."
After the thrill, Palmer took a long breath and showed off.
"You say so, Boluogo."
No one responded.
"Bolo...Ge?"
Palmer turned his head and saw that a large piece of metal had been wiped off the sidecar, and Boluogo, who was supposed to be sitting in it, also disappeared at this moment.
The whole person was stunned for a few seconds, and then Palmer burst into tears.
"Bologo!"
As Palmer cried, a figure with a face covered in blood climbed up from under the truck, with the dented helmet still hanging firmly on his head.
