Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 183 Mutual Scratching
Mike stood at the edge of the banquet hall, a pool of blood spreading at his feet.

He looked down.

The man's face was smashed, with only half of his jaw remaining, covered in skin and flesh.

It is not an important "coding target".

He was just a policy advisor whose name I couldn't recall.

"Take this with you."

The teammates behind him picked up the body, dragged it along, and finally threw it into the corner of the pile.

There, a "small mountain" has already been built.

The animals were in disarray, with bizarre postures, and one could discern their struggles before birth.

The crystal chandelier shattered, scattering countless fragments throughout.

Now, only a few emergency lights are still working in the entire hall, their light illuminating the hundred or so faces with different expressions.

People were forced to crowd in the center, their hands hastily bound.

Some wept uncontrollably, some vomited, and others continued to try to negotiate, threaten, and beg for mercy.

Useless.

Mike just shot and killed a woman who tried to resist.

Former Secretary of Health and Human Services.

Even in her dying moments, she cried out, "You can't do this, I—"

The bullet pierced his throat, and the rest of his sentence was swallowed, turning into gurgling bubbles.

In an instant, his body went limp and he landed on the knee of a congressional reporter.

Upon seeing this, the latter screamed in terror.

Its lung capacity is astonishing, and it howls non-stop.

Mike impatiently grabbed the man's hair and pulled out a folding knife with his left hand.

Serrated edges, sharp, lightweight, standard issue.

Then, he raised his knee and pressed it against the other person's back.

The blade grazed the carotid artery, as if slicing through a water-filled sac.

Warm liquid is sprayed.

A few drops splashed onto the goggles.

Mike casually flicked the blade, released the convulsing man, and sheathed his weapon.

"It's fucking noisy," he muttered.

I had just stood up when I heard footsteps behind me.

Mike turned around and saw the captain and co-pilot.

"Jack and the others aren't responding. You two go check and keep watch."

The passenger clicked his tongue. "It's probably a signal problem."

"Let me continue working. There are still dozens left in this batch, and I don't know when it will be finished."

No one cares about him.

Mike nodded slightly: "Understood."

The co-pilot sighed, seemingly wanting to say something more, but under the captain's intimidation, he nodded in agreement.

The two then adjusted their protective gear, passed through the hall door, and entered the corridor.

The red light fell on the marble tiles, reflecting their silhouettes.

The passenger in the front seat walked casually, muttering to himself, "Do you think he's a germaphobe? He has to arrange everything so neatly, it's so inefficient."

Mike didn't say anything and followed two steps behind.

"And you too, always so serious."

The passenger was walking ahead, having just turned a semi-open corner.

Sudden--

"Snapped."

A very faint metallic knocking sound came from the diagonal rear.

Mike was on edge, his body pressed against the wall, the muzzle of his gun instinctively rising—

There was no one under the lamp.

There were two more impacts from the passenger side.

"—Huh? What...what?"

The commotion abruptly stopped.

Almost simultaneously, someone attacked.

Fast, accurate, and silent.

Mike didn't see the details clearly, but he felt a strong smell of blood.

He reacted quickly.

Thumb down, aim and fire instantly—

"Bang-bang!"

The first shot missed.

The second shot penetrated the abdomen.

But the man didn't back down at all, and instead struck Mike's jaw joint with his elbow.

Extremely short distance, with almost no arm swing amplitude.

Ignoring his shock, Mike suppressed his dizziness, released the gun with his right hand, and drew his knife outwards.

Just halfway through, my wrist was grabbed and twisted behind my back.

"Click."

Joint dislocation
He instinctively tried to turn away, but was kicked in the back of the knee of his supporting leg, causing him to stagger and kneel down.

The next second, the man crouched down, grabbed the head, and thrust the blade horizontally.

The angle wasn't deep, but it severed the trachea and aortic branches.

As Mike fell, his gaze swept across the floor.

Above that is the silhouette of a man.

He stood there, completely soaked in blood.

red.

It's as red as fire.

It's as red as hell. My Father in heaven, lead me away as you promised.

Amen.

Zhou Yi reached in and pulled the bullet out of the hole, then casually put it in his pocket.

The pain lasted so long that my nerves became somewhat numb.

He lowered his head and sighed.

They still used guns.

Based on this distance, those people would most likely become alert.

We need to speed things up.

There's too much blood.

The carpet emitted a strange smell, a mixture of sweat, perfume, and alcohol.

Natalie was forced to kneel beside the pile of corpses, her hair stuck to the side of her neck.

Hollen was right next to him.

He doesn't look at her.

The muscles on the side of his face were taut, as if he were biting something.

almost.

A man wearing a black mask walked in front of them and deftly unfastened a dagger from his waist.

Natalie wasn't afraid; she kept her back straight.

She wasn't sure if she truly believed John would come to her rescue.

But at the very least, Hollen must die.

This is enough.

The executor bent down, reached out and grabbed Hollen by the back of the neck, the blade brushing against his skin.

Hollen didn't move at all.

Natalie closed her eyes.

His breathing was long and even, as calm as if he were meditating.

Then--

"Boom!"

A sudden sound of something falling.

The next second, light and heat swept all around.

"boom--!"

The banquet hall suddenly exploded, and the shockwave mercilessly tore the crowd apart.

"Hold--!"

"Enemy attack!"

"Counterattack, second floor—!"

Two more grenades exploded in different corners.

Someone had just looked up when a flying chair leg smashed their neck.

"Clap."

The dagger lay nearby.

The person behind me was shot in the head and knocked down at some point.

Natalie, without even having time to catch her breath, instinctively lay down on the ground.

It's John.

He really came.

"Bang bang bang-!"

A series of rapid rifle shots rang out from above.

The pace was fast, precise, and decisive.

White smoke billowed out, quickly obstructing the view from above.

"Loss of infrared feedback! Disconnected!"

"Block exits B and E!"

Natalie lay on the floor, her face pressed against the carpet, and slowly crawled under the table.

She didn't dare to look up, and she couldn't tell which way the bullet came from.

The only certainty is—

There were no longer any people "still" at the scene.

Whether it was the enemy, John, or prisoners like them.

Two more explosions were heard.

The table legs were shaking, and bits of food fell into her collar, burning her.

"Target has entered the main axis!"

"quick--!"

Natalie was close to the ground, and all she could see were a few pairs of shoe soles moving around.

Someone ran past her.

A few seconds later, he fell down, his head turned, and he died with his eyes open.

Natalie didn't know where John was.

But she knew—

He must still be alive.

As the fighting continued, the enemy's cries grew increasingly urgent, filled with despair.

A smile involuntarily crept onto Natalie's face, and she shifted slightly to the side.

Then, she saw Hollen—

They were also hiding under the table.

The man was still alive, face down, his back rising and falling slightly.

Natalie, as if possessed, picked up the dagger that was not far away.

Immediately afterwards, it was raised high.

(End of this chapter)