1169: Chapter 1174: Rescue 1169: Chapter 1174: Rescue When you want to unleash a massacre but are constrained by rules, unable to wipe out the scum of this world, it’s truly frustrating.
Considering the bigger picture, you can’t act on impulse.
But fortunately, for the Magic Box Squadron, who have always held their mission as their highest creed, frustration is the extent of their emotion—never hesitation.
The challenge, however, lies in figuring out how to cleanly eliminate the Russian Gang without breaking the rules.
That indeed requires so thought.
Brian pondered this as he led his Magic Box Squadron up another floor.
They encountered few people, which made sense.
In a place like this, nobody wants to be too visible.
So, under the premise of ensuring bare minimum service quality, the Russian Gang kept outside appearances to the absolute minimum—a fact that worked to Brian’s advantage.
But as soon as they ascended another floor, the situation changed.
Just stepping off the staircase, they were t by four brawny n.
Spotting Brian’s team, the four burly and seemingly ruthless n appeared startled—after all, custors were not permitted to co up here.
Brian’s team didn’t appear threatening at first glance, so the four n guarding the place for Bashanov had no intention of shooting imdiately.
“Why are you here?
Custors aren’t allowed on this floor.
Apologies, but please return downstairs now,”
One of the n stepped forward, attempting to politely escort Brian’s team out while another man quietly spoke into his headset: “There are custors upstairs?
What’s going on?
Get up here imdiately and remove them.”
Brian feigned confusion, glanced behind him, and then replied in a low voice to the approaching man, “What’s the aning of this?
We paid good money for this!”
“Uh, apologies, there might’ve been a mistake, but…”
Brian struck fast, his fist smashing into the man’s neck before spinning and delivering another heavy blow to the back of his head.
Black Jack, Paul, and Jackson launched their attacks simultaneously, each targeting a different opponent.
Bashanov’s guards were certainly chosen for their intimidating size and brutish looks, but unfortunately, their combat skills left much to be desired.
That said, competency is subjective—against Earth’s strongest combat force, the Magic Box Squadron, only Russia’s elite retired special forces might stand a chance.
Ordinary gang enforcers like these didn’t even co close.
Only one stood out—just one.
Black Jack and Paul swiftly neutralized their targets, but Jackson found himself facing an evenly matched adversary.
Far from incapacitating his opponent in three moves, Jackson even took a punch.
Just as the unexpectedly struck gang enforcer opened his mouth to shout, Brian stepped forward, kicking the man’s leg from below.
As the enforcer lost balance, Jackson delivered a brutal punch to his temple, followed by another blow to his throat.
As for Stone Statue, while he could pose as an expert when dealing with ordinary people, he preferred hanging back even against regular enforcers.
Why couldn’t Stone Statue fight but still join Brian’s operations?
Two reasons: Stone Statue’s composed deanor and his unparalleled precision when the situation called for firearms.
“This one’s tougher than the others.”
“Yeah, solid skills.”
Brian pointed at a door, gesturing with his finger.
“That’s the one.”
Stone Statue finally drew his pistol.
He didn’t raise it, just held it pointed lazily toward the ground.
Jackson gently turned the doorknob, looked at Brian, and curled his fingers, signaling the countdown.
The door wasn’t locked.
It could be opened.
When Jackson raised the third finger, he twisted the doorknob hard, and Paul slipped in unard.
Next ca Stone Statue, pistol at the ready.
When Brian entered the room, he discovered it was empty.
A large office, desolate and quiet.
Brian strained his ears, catching an almost imperceptible sound.
Brian pointed in the direction of the noise while Stone Statue provided cover, gun raised.
Paul and Black Jack moved toward the identified door.
Jackson again quietly turned the knob.
With the door wide open, Brian hesitated briefly before stepping inside.
The room looked like a torture chamber.
Two won were bound to wooden racks, each in different positions.
A shirtless man with a black hood was viciously whipping one of the won’s back.
With a sharp crack, the woman’s body convulsed violently, yet emitted no sound.
Spotting Brian, a glimr of hope erged in the woman’s eyes.
Whether this man was Bashanov or not wasn’t imdiately clear.
But his absorbed manner suggested he was oblivious to soone’s presence behind him.
Brian suddenly spoke in a soft voice, “Bashanov.”
The whip-wielding man spun around abruptly, eyes wide with surprise—only for Brian to slam his knee fiercely into him.
That confird it.
This warped individual was indeed Bashanov.
His reaction when Brian called his na had betrayed his identity.
After kneeing Bashanov, Brian stepped back.
Intense pain can silence a person temporarily, but even if Bashanov managed to scream, it wouldn’t matter.
The soundproofing in the room was excellent.
Paul tore off Bashanov’s hood and glanced at him before nodding, “No doubt, it’s him.”
His face contorted in disgust.
Paul injected Bashanov with a syringe and then studied the two bound won, asking in a low voice, “What now?”
Before, Brian would’ve decided without hesitation.
But now, he paused briefly before answering in a steady voice, “Complete the mission.
Secure the target and then decide what happens to the won here.”
Brian sighed lightly and added, “Let Ben decide.”
Black Jack quickly checked the window and said in a serious tone, “There’s a window—not too high.”
Brian approached and examined it before speaking into his radio.
“Pickup at the window on Side C.
You have three minutes.”
Gesturing to the team, Brian instructed, “Tie the target with a rope and lower him.”
Brian’s team didn’t carry rope, but no problem—Bashanov’s office had plenty.
Both won were conscious, their pleading eyes fixed on the team as they worked.
Paul eventually couldn’t resist approaching one of the won and removing the leather gag strapped across her face.
“Help !
Please, save !”
The woman cried out.
Paul had to silence her again, pressing the gag back into place while whispering, “We’ll save you.
Soon.
Trust .”
Reviews
All reviews (0)