May 23, 2014, 7:22 PM.
The night on Bergmann Street was as dark as ink, but the city lights refused to let darkness rule everything.
The cobblestone surface of Bergmann Street gleamed wetly under the streetlights, as if a unnoticed rain had just fallen.
The air carried the faint scent of beer, the char of grilled sausages, and the low, intermittent bass of jazz music drifting from a distant bar, like a drunkard's mumble.
There weren't many pedestrians, but not too few either.
A man in a leather jacket stood on the street corner smoking, the embers flickering between his fingers, the smoke torn apart by the night wind. His shadow stretched diagonally across the brick wall, like a crack.
Not far away, a young couple hurried past, the girl's high heels tapping a crisp rhythm on the flagstones, the boy's arm around her waist, their laughter swallowed by the depths of the alley.
The cafe on the street was still lit, but there were only a few customers left. An old man with glasses sat by the window, a half-empty cup of cold coffee in front of him, his gaze blankly fixed on the street outside, as if waiting for someone who would never come.
The waiter leaned against the counter, idly wiping glasses, occasionally glancing at the old-fashioned clock on the wall.
Everything seemed so peaceful.
Meanwhile, in a basement on Bergmann Street—though it was more like a very large underground space—
Mountbatten, who still hadn't received the latest update, sat in his office, a glass of red wine in one hand and a large cigar in the other.
The blue smoke from the cigar spiraled upwards, then was quickly sucked away near the exhaust vent.
His right hand swayed unconsciously, the crimson wine swirling and crashing like blood in the goblet.
He was considerably calmer now than yesterday, but his slightly trembling left hand still betrayed his inner turmoil.
Outside the office was a huge area of nearly 1000 square meters, with many people coming and going.
Some pushed firearms, others carried briefcases, and occasionally someone would place a briefcase on a platform and open it, revealing stacks of usd.
This was the underground headquarters in Bergmann, Germany. He was furious at this moment because just three minutes ago, Oriska had rejected his request.
He had intended to have Oriska dispatch a top KH Alliance team to protect him, but he refused, stating that it was Mountbatten's personal grudge and unrelated to the Alliance.
"To hell with this personal grudge! Damn Oriska, I'll definitely kill you, old man, later!"
Mountbatten was enraged but helpless, as Oriska, being the current chief of the KH Alliance, had the authority to deploy and halt tactical teams within the Alliance.
Although he had many subordinates and assassins at his headquarters, he didn't know if they could stop John.
Even though he had set up tight defenses, it was always better to be foolproof.
In a corner outside his office, a young man wearing glasses was counting money, but his gaze occasionally darted towards Mountbatten's office.
Instructions constantly coming through his earpiece kept him highly vigilant as he observed his surroundings.
"This should be his headquarters, but there are a lot of people. I don't have any leads yet."
The young man whispered, it was unclear who he was talking to. Just as he was about to say something else, a fierce burst of gunfire suddenly erupted.
Ten minutes earlier, the moment John kicked open the blast door, the muzzle of his CA-415 spat fire.
Two guards, who hadn't even reacted, were about to draw their weapons.
Thump, thump, thump!
Three short bursts, the rate of fire directly overwhelmed them. 5.56mm M855 rounds penetrated their Level III body armor plates, exploding into fist-sized cavities in their spines.
This was a tactic Zhang Jie and John had already planned. Since this area was inherently crowded, they had to finish quickly.
Zhang Jie's SCAR-H was braced at the end of the corridor, its 780 rounds continuously penetrating concrete cover, severing the third enemy at the waist.
The recoil bruised his shoulder blade, but the fourth bullet still accurately pierced the enemy's eye socket.
The back of his head instantly exploded, splattering a grotesque painting on the pristine white wall.
John, in front, thumbed the magazine release button. Before the empty magazine hit the ground, a new one slid into place, allowing for a quick reload.
Zhang Jie employed a tactical reload, keeping the last spent casing in the chamber, directly inserting a new magazine to maintain continuous firepower, thereby saving time on racking the bolt.
The security measures on the first floor were not very strong, so the two quickly cleared the area. At the same time, Zhang Jie cautiously shot out all the surveillance cameras.
The two entered the elevator and pressed a button.
As the elevator descended, John stood by the side, his muzzle pointed outwards, ready to fire at any moment. Zhang Jie did the same.
In the control room, security personnel discovered that all surveillance feeds on the first floor and inside the elevator had gone black.
He naturally realized something was wrong, so he immediately pressed the alarm button. Instantly, alarms blared throughout the entire underground space, and all armed forces quickly organized, rushing towards the elevator shaft.
This was the first time someone had attacked their doorstep.
Upon hearing the alarm, Mountbatten's eyes turned cold. He knew that John had finally come for him, but he believed his subordinates could definitely take him down. Over a hundred men couldn't defeat one person?
The moment the elevator doors opened, both men fired simultaneously.
Their descent was significantly faster than the security personnel's arrival, so both exited the elevator at the same time.
Zhang Jie's SCAR-H switched to full-auto, its 7.62mm barrage slicing through the approaching crowd like a chainsaw.
Spent casings bounced on the metal grid floor, reaching temperatures of 140°C.
John's CA-415 barrel glowed red from overheating. He tossed out his last m67 grenade, its shrapnel creating a metal storm in the confined space. As six enemies who couldn't dodge were riddled with shrapnel, Zhang Jie's SCAR-H was already loaded with M993 tungsten core armor-piercing (AP) rounds.
He immediately crouched down, quickly found cover, and looked towards the direction of the gunfire, which was the location of the underground headquarters' main entrance.
Then, after estimating the positions of the security guards, he fired directly!
Bang, bang, bang!
Scorching armor-piercing rounds instantly shot out from the barrel, directly penetrating the main door and the concrete wall.
Two unlucky individuals hiding behind the wall were directly shot through the shoulder by the wall-penetrating AP rounds. The bullets, already deformed from their trajectory, tore two huge wounds in their shoulders.
After finding cover inside, the young man witnessed the gruesome sight of the security guards at the main entrance.
"What the heck!? Who is so bold as to dare to break into Mountbatten's headquarters?"
The young man mumbled subconsciously, and his voice was transmitted to the other side through the communication device.
"What happened? Who is attacking Mountbatten's headquarters?"
"How should I describe it? It's two people! Fuck! Two people!!!"
From his perspective, he saw two individuals rush in, one wielding a CA-415, the other a SCAR-H.
They shot their way in, while the security team resisted frantically but couldn't gain any advantage against the two, each one being headshotted and killed.
The two moved with extreme precision and speed, providing covering fire for each other, engaging in an elegant slaughter.
—
Ah, this foreshadowing is finally revealed, satisfying!
Although Ling Feng is dead, his legend continues!
Sleep now, I'll write ten thousand more words when I wake up!
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