"Levis hasn't come yet?" In the basement, the printing team leader asked his deputy.

Previously, there were seven people in the printing team including the team leader. Mr. Dickinson has worked overtime recently to apply for talents and got him ten people. However, facing the printing tasks of more than 30,000 copies per day, the manpower is still obviously insufficient.

Therefore, in this case, the impact of employee absence will be particularly obvious, and the work pressure will increase for everyone.

To the surprise of the printing team leader, the young man named Levi was originally the most active employee in the printing class-he was usually the first to arrive at the newspaper.

He can understand the absence of old fried dough stick David, and it is common for "slacker" Mike to be late, but Levi's skipped work without saying hello?

This is definitely an anomaly.

At this moment, the proofreader of the printing department informs the team leader that the proofreading is correct through the communication channel.

A tin-lead alloy newspaper base plate has been placed in the steel channel.

As long as the team leader gives an order, today's printing can start.

I looked at the old mechanical watch on my wrist, the hour hand pointed at five o'clock.

Today's printing must start, otherwise the newspaper cannot be delivered on time.

"Don't wait for him." The team leader said with a sullen face, "Let's start!"

The deputy nodded, quickly ran to the switch, and pulled the switch.

Soon, there was a roar of smooth operation from the machine. The team leader is quite proud of this - yesterday's maintenance work was completed very beautifully.

The ink stored in the tanks flowed into the pool, where it was heated by a coal-fired stove at the bottom of the pool.

Four sets of tin-lead alloy plates were dipped into the ink pool one by one.

Blank newspapers were sent into the printing interlayer by the conveyor belt, rubbed with fresh ink at a dizzying speed, and turned into newspapers with beautiful layouts...

The team leader who has been in the printing business for more than 30 years saw the newspapers with wet ink being sent to a high place by the conveyor belt, and the sunlight from the window shone through them, and he couldn't help frowning.

ink...

What's up with the ink?

What's wrong with the color?

The young printers were dull and insensitive, but the old workers saw something wrong at a glance.

Today's ink is not pure black, with a little brown!

Is there a problem with the pipeline that transports the ink?

Then, he discovered something even stranger.

The basement has been filled with the mixed smell of machine oil, ink, oil and sweat all year round. He did not expect that he could distinguish a fishy smell from the almost saturated mixed smell...

"Shutdown!" The team leader strode up and waved his gloved hand towards the printer closest to the switch, "Shutdown!"

The young man with noise-proof plasticine in his ears narrowed his eyes and saw the group leader's action, and he rushed to the switch and pulled the switch down.

The operation of the machine stopped abruptly, and the roaring sound ended. All the printing workers looked at the team leader in doubt.

The man in his fifties had a long, stubbled face and a bad temper as he was recovering from alcohol.

Frowning, he ran up to the second floor of the machine, and reached for a newspaper that was stuck in the air.

Rough fingers rubbed the paper, wet ink stained his fingers.

He put his finger up to his nose and sniffed...

"What's the matter?" The deputy was a slightly chunky worker, always wearing a pair of dirty denim overalls, and his running posture was a bit funny.

"There is a problem with the ink." The team leader named Trevor frowned and looked at the ink tank on the bottom floor.

The ink is the wrong color and it smells weird...

There have been similar problems because the ink pipes are rusted, which greatly reduces the printing effect.

But he remembered that the pipes used by the "Evening News" are made of rubber and cannot rust.

Then it could only be a problem with the ink.

He led the tortured workers to gather near the ink tank.

This is an aluminum can nearly two meters high, with rings of patterns on it, like a water tank.

Every month, an ink tank truck from Northern Company would come to fill the tank with ink, otherwise, the lid of the tank would never be opened.

The team leader looked at the helpless subordinates around him, took the lead again, and climbed the cast iron ladder to the top of the tank.

After struggling to twist the capstan glued by the dry ink, the team leader opened the top of the tank vigorously.

Trevor almost staggered a few steps and fell off the top of the tank as an astonishing smell hit his forehead.

With horrified eyes, Trevor covered the top of the tank with a livid face. He sat down on the top of the tank and said to his deputy: "Go, go and call Mr. Dickinson!"

·

After clearing out other employees in the basement according to Trevor's request, Sean, Olivia, Norton, and John stood together and listened to the stuttering narration of the team leader.

Trevor is a bold man, but at the moment he looks devastated.

"Slow down, Trevor..." Sean blinked slowly, "You mean there's a dead body in the ink pot?"

"Yes," Team Leader Trevor seemed to lose his soul, "he is wearing overalls, he seems to be our buddy, maybe Levi's...

"I can't let other workers know, so I didn't say anything, I asked someone to call you..."

Sean nodded vigorously: "You handled it well, Trevor."

"But it shouldn't be of much use..." Trevor felt a little nervous when he spoke, "Everyone can smell the smell when you open the jar. They must know that there is something in the jar..."

"It's okay." Sean didn't panic at all in this situation, "John, you can accompany Trevor to take a rest.

"Leave the rest to me."

After speaking, Sean walked towards the ink tank, climbed the cast iron ladder, and came to the top of the tank.

From the moment he entered the basement, Sean could smell a smell, an unbearable rancid smell.

At this moment, he was standing on the top of the tank, holding the winch with both hands, and the raven that was crushed by the machine yesterday sounded in his heart...

What the **** happened to my newspaper?

With such doubts, Sean opened the top of the tank.

Right above the ink tank is a glass skylight. With the faint skylight, Sean can vaguely see a pitch-black corpse sitting in the ink that has almost bottomed out.

·

Kegel Lucius swears he should have seen this Mr. Sean Dickinson in front of him somewhere.

It's just that he can't remember.

As the captain of the "Shepherd Dogs" team, it is not uncommon to meet people involved in mysterious incidents: he knows that some people's constitutions are more likely to lead to terrible incidents than others.

Three team members are holding various instruments to detect the concentration of resentment near the ink tank.

Wearing black leather boots and a black leather windbreaker, he was walking beside the corpse on the white cloth with his hands behind his back.

The blood all over the body was drained, and all of it was melted into the ink.

The body of the corpse had shrunk so thoroughly that it looked like the corpse of a teenager.

The overalls on his body were dyed pitch black~lightnovelpub.net~ But the name on the soft plastic card, "Jack Levi's" can still be seen.

Lucius turned his head and looked at the printing factory where the lights had been turned on. He saw that the newspapers that could not be printed today were hung everywhere by the conveyor belt.

Brown ink, ink mixed with the blood of Levi's whole body.

Every newspaper is printed with Levi's blood.

if…

If the sharp old printer didn't notice anything unusual, then the "Lighthouse Evening News" newspaper office would have made a terrible mistake—

They will let more than 30,000 copies of newspapers printed with the blood of dead employees flow into the market and appear on the dinner tables of thousands of families and in their homes.

And judging by the concentration of resentful souls...

Lucius looked back.

He could not have predicted what a terrible event that would turn into.