Chapter 93

He, rozim premki, was absent without leave again.

However, his memory is not very good. He just feels that he should remember his name correctly.

The restaurant master of the spark, with a less elegant posture, threw away the imperial Titan like responsibility of serving the astat regiment and broke the cage built by 10000 years of cliches.

Although after an hour, he had to return to the slightly depressing upper deck again and wipe the hypocritical solemnity on his face in front of the astates.

Now the strong man, nearly two meters tall, is turning over this damn metal wall with all his strength near the channel area from the upper deck to the lower deck.

The previous jump allowed him to grasp the top of the wall with both hands, step on the bucket quietly borrowed from the boiler room with his left foot, and rub his right foot on the smooth wall, trying to find a key focus.

And he went all out just to sneak out and have some fun when he didn't need to take care of the kitchen and didn't have too many things during the sub space voyage.

But on second thought, the same thing.

The former paragraph can be said to be righteous, while the latter paragraph appears to be embarrassed and wretched. This is the ability of rozim.

As a former astat primary, his position on the spark is not low, but his duty doesn't sound so glorious.

Perhaps when it comes to astat, people directly think of a serious and terrible poker face.

But over the years, rozim has always believed that moving the mouth skin is always better than pulling the trigger.

This may be one of the reasons why he didn't become an astat in the end.

For example, when he wrote down the word "borrow", he would never miss the quotation marks without conscience.

It was really borrowed from the boiler room's water boiler.

Of course, the reason is vague. After all, his memory has always been bad.

With the help of his strong physique beyond mortals, only listening to the "bare slip", rozim was very happy that his twitching right leg was finally giving strength to the wall, and fell to the ground in the wall with his exhausted body.

The noise was loud, but he was not worried that there would be a line of sight coming at me from the post.

He had checked the view of the post and knew that it was a safe blind spot.

Then he raised his wrist and took a look.

No more, no less. The watch shows that he still has at least 56 minutes of standard Tara time to waste.

So he hurried into a small cargo elevator, and then activated the descent button. With a slight sense of weightlessness, he stayed in the elevator for ten minutes.

When the elevator door opened, he immediately got into the shadow, walked along a small maintenance passage, and arrived at the familiar old place.

In the distance of his sight, the neon light emitting weak red light gave him a boost.

The play begins.

It's standard Tara time at 3:30 p.m.

At this time, there was no one in the bar, because according to the common saying of the supervisors, the scum who didn't work hard but just lived in ignorance could not be called people, because they didn't deserve the salvation of the emperor.

Therefore, there should be only some gang members, prostitutes trying to pay attention to rozim, and a few lazy people sighing with red eyes on the bar.

A long time ago, as the son of a chieftain in a wild time, rozim was eager to become a soldier in the sky, hoping to become a brave and powerful son of God.

But he made a mistake.

Becoming a celestial warrior can't bring him much material enjoyment, even little spiritual enjoyment, and he can't really abandon his human desire.

Perhaps because of this, he failed and survived in pain.

Rozim was frustrated by this more than once, but he soon realized that he was really not that material.

He can only change his mind and make himself more vulgar and boring. Only in this way can he embrace the life full of smoke and fire, eat all day, have fun in time and live and dream.

Well, so he's going to let himself forget this first.

Because he found that in his silent memory, the prostitute had dangled two balls of meat in front of his eyes that had obviously undergone illegal surgery on her chest, trying to hook up with the business in front of him.

"Do you want me ~"

The sound is loud enough and the people are strong enough, but rozim knows that such goods that actively pull people at the door are generally not clean.

Of course, if people know this, they will be very confused. How can there be such a blasphemous existence and dirty trade on the glorious astat warship?

If rozim could hear it, he would laugh.

Strictly speaking, only the upper deck and middle deck of the warship are under the aura of the astates, while the lower deck is a place where angels will not set foot in almost their whole life.

Here, human life is everything.

Their joy, their pain, their sadness, their desire

All this is absolutely impossible to experience on the upper deck several kilometers away. It is like a huge church, and everything is shrouded in a solemn aura.

Of course, it's not that rozim hates the upper deck. After all, he loves cleanliness, and struggling to survive every day is not what he wants.

But this did not prevent him from having fun occasionally to paralyze his brain, which was often tortured by failure.

"No, thanks."

After he finished coldly, the prostitute who left bitterly scolded a "male dog".

Rozim felt happy. After all, he talked to the servants who were either fooling or with a straight face all day. He hoped that one of them would dare to say dirty words to him with his middle finger up.

Before entering, he looked up at the sign of the secret bar.

The name of the bar "flint" seems to be because the owner's temper is hot after all, which is why rozim chose to drink here.

Because the boss is one of the few people who knows he's from the upper deck, but won't have any special views on him.

As for others, such as the bitch just now, if she knew she was disrespectful to a senior regiment servant on the upper deck, rozim's attempt to pat her on the shoulder should excite her for a week.

"What do you want?"

The footsteps exposed rozim's position. He vaguely saw the bartender and boss standing behind the bar, slowly wiping the wine bottle on the cabinet, raising the bottle from time to time to compare it with the red light tube to see how much is left in it.

Bang.

Rozim grabbed the drunkard lying on the bar, sleeping like a dead body, threw it on the floor, and then grabbed the other party's stool impolitely.

"Medium, full, rum."

"Wait a minute."

Rozim glanced at his watch as the boss put down the wiping beer bottle and looked for rum on the cabinet in turn.

There are 42 minutes left. It's still early.

Then his eyes turned to the gang members, who seemed to have an argument about something, and asked rozim to guess that the stolen goods must be divided unevenly.

He really hoped that they would be able to fight, and then they could take advantage of the situation to get rid of them one by one. In this way, maybe he wouldn't have to pay for the wine later.

The order on the lower deck is almost no, the astats won't take a glance, and the mortal auxiliary army of the regiment dislikes it. In addition to the technical guards in charge of each cabin, the main order maintainer here is the gang.

In a sense, the lower deck of a large warship like the spark is almost a small nest.

So the local gangs with the characteristics of chaodu are naturally indispensable.

"Your wine, Mr. cook."

Soon, the cup slapped on the bar, right in front of rozim.

He picked up the cup and took a silent sip.

"Well..."

It doesn't taste very good, but it's strong enough to make your throat burn. It should be made by yourself.

Rozim also knows how to make wine, but it's too dangerous to do so on the upper deck. The dense sensors on it can easily reveal his plan.

Once a regiment servant is found to have something to do with alcohol or drugs, he must be prepared to face the regiment priest.

Mortal priests are scary enough, a black armor pastor of astat.

Rozim doesn't want to be nailed to the skyhawk rack and can't buckle down.