The lights, which seemed to never go out, shone on the ground in a miserable white, and a few guard-like people leaned a little casually against the wall at the end of the corridor, their eyes full of boredom, looking obliquely at the simple rooms in front of them, surrounded by transparent tempered glass.

It's probably a prison functionally, but it's never been a long time to hold a person, and all the detainees are brought in a little haphazardly by a few men in black, and then sent away forever after a few days.

So the guards here also like to call this place in private.

『Storage Room』

But even the middle-aged guard who had been in the "storage room" for the longest time had never seen such a detainee.

Immovable, not smiling, like a sculpture made of cast iron, in a wheelchair, under the protection of escorts with fewer or almost no other detainees.

The oldest guard had peeked at the man as he passed by in a wheelchair, with fine stitch marks on his hands, and the middle-aged uncle secretly wondered if the boy was unable to even do basic food on his own, and the file of the older boy he saw later confirmed his idea.

The lights were turned on miserably, as if they were going to stay on until the end of time, and the huge "storage room" only held a few detainees, and the people here always came and went quickly. The middle-aged guard yawned, looked at his watch, and beckoned two younger guards to walk with him to the densely packed hive-like room of the "storage room".

Researcher Murakita made an appointment at six o'clock. The middle-aged guard muttered to himself why he had chosen a place to eat, but it didn't matter, they were just guards, and they couldn't and couldn't care about anything else.

"0627", this is the name of this boy in a wheelchair now, this kind of person who has no ability to take care of himself is generally the priority object, and no one in the "storage room" has the leisure to give him a drip of glucose injection to continue his life.

The middle-aged guard opened the door of 0627's room under the watchful eyes of the other two guards, and went in alone to bring him the necessary restraints.

One person goes in and handles two people at the door to watch, this is the rule of the "storage room", no matter what the state of the detainee is, they must obey.

None of the people who remain here have violated the rules.

The middle-aged guard entered the door, put away his initial ramps, and slowly approached the young man, who had special shackles in his hand, and nothing else on him.

He's always been the one who walks in because the one who comes in has a higher salary, though it's just a little bit.

He knew that this was because the person who entered the door was not allowed to carry anything that could be dangerous on him, which meant that he would be powerless to resist if the detainees suddenly burst out.

But as dangerous as it was, the older guard felt that it was all worth it just by thinking of his lovely daughter.

Whether it is falling into the darkness, or sending one teenager after another to the test bench, as long as you can let your daughter grow up happily and happily, then everything is worth it.

The guard locked the last shackle and pushed the boy out of the room, the light in the corridor was brighter than in the room, but the boy seemed to have long lost his perception of the outside world, his pupils were silently dilated, if it weren't for the slight heaving of his chest, it would have made people think that this was a dead man.

However, this is good, for those test subjects that require that they cannot be injected with sedatives, it used to take some effort.

The middle-aged guard thought and got into the elevator surrounded by two guards.

The elevator has no floor display, as it only connects the two floors of the building, and in a sense, these guards are just a little better detainees than the detainees in the "storage room", and in the eyes of the middle-aged guards, the building reveals a strong distrust of the guards on the ground floor.

But he also felt that this was normal, because the level of guards in these supervision chambers was actually not high, and they were usually only responsible for guarding some people who were actually not in any danger and could be captured, but they could enter the highest-level experimental area of this building when needed, and the necessary distrust was certain.

When they arrived at the experimental area, "0627" was pushed into the research room with the Murakashita sign on it, and the two young guards stepped back, and the middle-aged guards stood guard at the entrance of the laboratory along with the original guards in the experimental area.

He is old enough, and he can be regarded as accumulating some trust, and he is usually responsible for dealing with the things that need to be discarded after the experiment, which is another amount of money that is counted in the salary, and the researcher Murashita said that this experiment will not take long.

The experiments here are occasionally brutal, and these brutal experiments tend to be short-lived, so presumably this state of the living dead is best for 0627.

The middle-aged guard wasn't a believer in any religion, but he tried to pray every time he pushed the subject into the white rooms.

Amen, he muttered, tilting his head slightly, as if trying to see through the white wall.

The teenager, judging from the file, seemed to have suffered some mental blow, and there was no physical problem, so he first went to a nursing home, and then because he was involved with the organization, he entered the "storage room", and finally was pushed onto the laboratory table.

Waste utilization, which organizations always do.

Probably, this young man is having a very beautiful dream, he thought, otherwise he wouldn't have woken up until now.

In the laboratory, researcher Murakashita and his two assistants carried "0627" onto the test bench, and his experiment was quite special, so instead of putting on a restraint suit for "0627", he was fixed to the test bench with the same shackles as the "storage room".

Researcher Murashita has seen the file of "0627", but in order to prevent accidents that may occur under the effects of drugs and pain during the experiment, some precautions are necessary.

Researcher Murakita looked at the young man's still somewhat immature face, and saw that the rare iron-gray pupils of "0627" were slightly focused and seemed to be staring ahead, and his eyes blinked extremely accurately in three seconds, and there seemed to be something flickering.

Researcher Murashita smiled, asked the assistant to draw blood and do a laboratory test first, turned around and continued to prepare the medicine for the experiment, assistant number one took out a needle from the side, and assistant number two began to prepare scalpels and other equipment for dissection.

Probably too nervous, Assistant Number One frowned, she seemed to see the corners of the boy's mouth moving, but when she looked closely, she found that he was still quiet.

Assistant No. 1 shook his head, the corners of his mouth pulled out a somewhat mocking smile, even if he was really moving, he was already a fish on the board, and when he woke up, he could only swing his fins, and he couldn't change the fate that had been set.

The assistant wanted to use a needle to aim at the blood vessels, but as soon as his hand approached, he was suddenly grabbed by a hand.

A good-looking, well-jointed, but unusually pale hand.

The hand of the boy "0627".

"What?" Assistant No. 1 just wanted to speak, but was suddenly thrown out by this seemingly fluttering hand, and she saw in mid-air that the remaining three hands and feet of "0627" were dislocated by the boy on the test bench, no, it should be said that they were as soft as boneless mud, and he easily pulled them out of the shackles.

"0627"'s eyes were filled with a strange light, confused, fierce, as if there were many expressions mixed in this pair of iron gray eyes, assistant number one saw in mid-air that assistant number two was slashed on the neck by this young man before he even had time to turn around, and his neck was twisted into a strange angle. The Murashita Research Institute just turned around and let out a deformed scream, and the carotid artery and trachea were marked with blood.

"0627" has a scalpel in his hand, which has just been spliced together by assistant No. 2, and he not only kills assistant No. 2 in one face, but also takes the scalpel in the middle of a mistake.

One second, or two seconds?

"0627" completed this series of actions before blinking a second time, and the number one assistant who was thrown high did not slam into the wall next to the laboratory door until the end of Researcher Murakashita's screams, and she only now deeply realized the power of "0627", and she felt that she was probably concussed.

And in her trance-like line of sight, "0627" rushed towards the gate like a sharp arrow off the string.

"That's amazing." She was a little surprised that such an idea came to her mind at this moment.

The guards outside the door heard the commotion inside and tried to open the door, but "0627" crashed out of the lab as soon as the door opened.

And in the middle of another mistake when he went out, Assistant One's ribs were shattered, and his chest was sunken inwards like some kind of sphere had been taken out of it.

"0627" slammed the door open, and the guard from the "storage room" sat on the ground, and the guard on one side subconsciously tried to touch it, but he didn't touch anything.

The other guard felt a tearing chill in his neck.

"0627" rushed out of the door of the laboratory, almost before his eyes could react, he used his scalpel to pick up the gun on the waist of the guard who touched his waist, and the other hand slashed at the other guard with a strong wind, the muddy hand that seemed to be sharper than the eagle's talon, tearing off half of his neck.

The guard from the "storage room" slumped to the ground, slapped in the face by the flipped gun and slashed his neck with a scalpel before he could raise his hands, followed by the dismounted guard.

"0627" was covered in blood, did not pay too much attention to the pistol on the ground, and continued to hold the scalpel in his hand, like a fierce beast or more like a wandering lone wolf, and let out a few meaningless growls.

"1-003 Lab Subject Detachment, 1-003 Lab Subject Detachment!" Another growl came out almost simultaneously with the boy's voice, alternating back and forth between radio waves and mechanical vibrations, and the camera in the corner of the hallway was aimed at the beastly boy.

The experimenters shivered in the corners or rooms when they heard the news, and the guards gathered from everywhere, like ants that had received a signal from their companions to gather towards the honey that had fallen on the ground.

"0627" leaned down slightly, chose a side at random, and rushed towards the guards who were forming an encirclement, and the guards raised their weapons almost the moment they saw him, and "0627" had ethereal eyes, as if they heard someone whispering in their ears.

"Within seven steps, the fist is fast, and outside seven steps, the gun is fast."

"What if the gunslinger is outside of your 'seven steps'?"

The whispering voice was old but a little smiling, like the earnest teachings of the elders to the younger generations, "0627" was a little stuffy in his heart, and he wanted to cry a little, but he didn't in the end. He just slashed in the air with a scalpel in his hand, and an arrogant bullet crashed like an iceberg into the icebreaker on the ocean at full speed, and was separated and rowed to the sides.

He dodged the second lesson's hastily fired inaccurate bullet and rushed into the middle of the guards before the third man could shoot.

In the next blink of an eye, he rushed out, not stopping any longer, just picking a random direction to move forward.

0627 didn't know where he was going, he didn't even understand where it was, he felt as if there were two people in his head who were talking in two different languages, two different memories washing over him.

He clenched the second scalpel in his hand, which was already somewhat curled, and the first one was no longer stuck in whose head. He didn't know who the people he had killed were, and he couldn't even remember what they were. He used the scalpel in his hand to pull a not-so-good-looking knife flower, and the familiar and unfamiliar feelings enveloped him at the same time.

He just moved forward, splitting him if a bullet came at him, and killing him if someone blocked him.

He seemed to have been doing this until he woke up, for a purpose he couldn't think of, and it seemed like he had never done it, just learning something all the time.

He felt as if he was a wanderer and stranger walking with his elders, and a student somewhere.

He didn't know who he was, he just listened to the wind and something else, and walked forward.

Not far ahead, he saw a researcher-like girl in curly white pushing open the door of a certain laboratory, she probably didn't hear the alarm, or she heard the alarm and was about to flee quietly, but he didn't care.

"0627" clenched the scalpel in his hand, and there was still the bright red and unoxidized blood of the previous deceased on it.

But he didn't succeed in killing the man this time.

"Amamiya."『 0627'The knife in his hand came out of his hand, and his body twisted in a very unscientific posture to stop, turn, and slammed the man against the wall.

"She's calling me," 0627 thought, convinced, "she knows me." ”

The curly-haired girl was pressed against the wall by the thin hand of "0627", and the long-term injection of glucose did not seem to make him weak, he was as brave as if he could strangle a lion with his bare hands.

But this young man, who could strangle the lion with his bare hands, did not make a move on the girl, his eyes were full of confusion, and his face was almost an inch away from the girl.

"Amamiya," he read, over and over again, with great smoothness, as if he had blurted it out countless times, but he barely remembered these two words in his head, and even the tone of his speech was extremely unfamiliar.

"Am I called Amamiya?" "0627" The burning snort hit the girl's face, and the tone of her speech was very strange, like two people making sounds in the same mouth in two different languages.

"Yes, your name is Amamiya, Toru Amamiya." She said.

"You know me?"

"We're friends."

The bony hand that was not strong but thin was against the girl's white neck, and the white light that was different from the "storage room" hit the boy's cheek, and the blood was like a dark red coat draped over his body, and the boy stared at the girl, but in such a transparent light, the girl still couldn't see the things that flickered in the boy's dark pupils.

It was the wind blowing desperately, the rain roaring like a wailing downpour, the wanderer holding the corpse in the ruins, the bullet casings and the corpse crying, sometimes old, sometimes too young. The boy remembered that he had been looking for someone until he woke up.

The boy pulled out a smile with all his might, but he was now covered in blood, like a beautiful boy who had crawled out of hell and was smiling brightly next door.

One second, two seconds.

The boy smiled, closed his eyes, and didn't open them again, and the oppressive feeling on his body softened along with the hand on the girl's body, and the boy who was called Amamiya fell in front of the girl.

"Amamiya." The girl called softly, as she should, but did not respond.

The guards hurried forward and surrounded the two men.