Chapter 363 Ten Seconds
"WHAT THE FUCK?"
Matthew looked towards the shipyard not far away, confused.
Bifang climbed out of the shaft and heard the sound of gunfire in the distance. He couldn't help scratching his head. What was going on?
Who are the gangs fighting?
Abbaso suddenly freed up his hands and sent people to support us?
[Is it God who has sent people to destroy the gang? ]
[Aren’t the people from Abasogang here? How about asking them? ]
[Is the situation changing so quickly? Yesterday they said they couldn't spare any manpower and could only send fishing boats to pick them up, but today they can use artillery to bombard them? ]
【Modern Warfare.jpg】
"Don't worry about it. This is a good opportunity for us anyway. Let's retreat first!"
The existing information made Bifang unable to figure out what the gunshots were about, but he did not hesitate. The crisis had not been resolved yet, and the gang seemed to be in trouble. It was a good opportunity for them to escape completely.
"Yes, yes, yes, run, everyone run!"
"Don't run around, follow me closely, don't get separated, follow me closely, you can only get out of the Yeyi Gate tomorrow, otherwise you will be caught and brought back!"
Matthew led the way in front, while Bifang followed at the end of the team to prevent anyone from getting lost or falling behind.
With the raging fire in the shipyard, the group, no longer restricted by the terrain, ran wildly and quickly got away from this place. However, when passing a building, Bifang suddenly stopped and looked blankly at the other side of the narrow passage.
The audience was the first to notice this scene and asked what happened and why it stopped suddenly.
After Matthew, who was at the front, led everyone to run for a distance, he felt that the flashlight beam behind him seemed to suddenly disappear. He realized something was wrong and stopped first. Finally, he looked back and saw Bifang who was stagnant.
"What happened?"
Matthew ran and asked, but he only saw Bifang pointing at the alley and he looked in that direction.
Under the cover of night, the sea surface was heaving restlessly. The black ship cut through the black sea water, leaving white foam. The huge ship lights shone on the sky, and the dark clouds rolled with faint thunder.
A fishing boat?
"Anyone fishing?"
Matthew was surprised, but then he thought the idea was ridiculous. How could anyone go out to sea to fish in this situation? The fishing boats would be blown up before they could sail a few miles, right?
"It can't be a fishing boat."
Bifang and Matthew agree on this point. This cannot be a fishing boat.
If it's not a fishing boat, why are they here at this time?
"Could it be that Abatso has really spared some manpower and arrived ahead of schedule?"
"Impossible, I haven't received any news here."
Bifang pointed at the drone. If there was any news, he would definitely know that the ship did not belong to Abasogang. So where did it come from? The two of them immediately understood.
Matthew's eyes widened: "Pick up the goods in advance?"
Bifang affirmed: "There is only this one possibility!"
"Internal strife?"
Thinking of the sound of gunfire now, Matthew became a little excited. Internal strife is good, both sides will suffer losses, and these scums will be sent to see God!
"No, I don't think it's an internal conflict, it's more like silencing someone."
Bifang narrowed his eyes. It was strange to pick up the goods in advance. Moreover, he knew very well that the ship did not exist before the rescue plan began. In other words, the other party arrived here in just two hours, and then the conflict broke out.
The time was too short, it seemed more like it was premeditated.
"I want to go and have a look."
“You’re crazy!”
Matthew almost screamed and grabbed Bifang's sleeve tightly, seriously wondering if he was having a bad day.
Bifang grabbed Matthew's hand and asked seriously, "Where do you think those who picked up the goods will sell them to?"
"How should I know..." Matthew didn't want to answer, but when he saw Bifang's eyes, he hesitated, "Southeast Asia, the Ugly Country, Mexico are all possible."
"Then do you think this group of gangsters can do it?" Bifang asked Matthew in return. The behavior they were currently exposed to could not be done by a simple local gang. In fact, they were only responsible for supplying goods and knew nothing about the channels.
An illegally trafficked heart could even fetch up to 300,000 U.S. dollars. With such a huge profit, it is more likely that it is a multinational group. If I could go back, even if it was just to take a photo, I could expose this group of people to the sun. The significance of doing so would be far greater than getting rid of dozens of people.
[Why am I not surprised at all and even take it for granted? ]
[Here it comes, a familiar feeling comes]
[Ah, this, ah, this, I have no doubt that the person in front of me is the real god Fang Shen]
Matthew was speechless.
Bifang patted his collar and said, "You lead them and continue along the route we planned earlier. I will catch up with you."
After saying that, he ran towards the shipyard where flames were rising to the sky without looking back.
Matthew was stunned for a long while, and finally cursed inwardly.
"Oh shit!"
"Everyone follow me, speed up!"
…
Inside the shipyard, the situation was even more exaggerated than the previous explosion. Fully armed soldiers were divided into teams of three and searched every corner of the shipyard.
Everyone was carrying a weapon, and they would shoot without mercy when they met. Many gangsters were knocked to the ground the moment they appeared.
The sound of gunfire was so deafening that Marseille even thought he was fighting the legion on the eastern front.
He was completely speechless and could only stare at Angelo in front of him with wide eyes.
"Mr. Marseille, I told you, this is the last time we work together." Psyker lifted the hem of his shirt, as if to get rid of the stain, but unfortunately, it was blood instead of dust.
Seeing the other party speak, Marseille finally came back to his senses and said quickly: "I can still catch people, I can still catch people. This time it was just bad luck that they escaped. I will never do that next time. One hundred, no, two hundred! Next time I can catch two hundred, and at least half of them will be young and strong men. Mr. Angelo, believe me, please believe me!"
In front of this group of people, the thugs in the gang were just unarmed kittens, and the weapons in their hands looked more like fire sticks eliminated from World War I. All of these made Marseille lose the will to resist, and she could only ask for forgiveness from the man in front of her.
To this day, Marseille still believes that it was this failed delivery that brought him disaster.
"Don't you understand? Mr. Marseille, a failed delivery is nothing to us. This is the last deal, and it's the last deal. Also, my name is not Angelo. Please call me Cisco."
Cisco's face was illuminated by the firelight. He looked down at Marseille, who fell to the ground due to exhaustion. He was not moved at all and turned off the safety of his pistol with an expressionless face.
Hearing this, Marseille's face was full of despair. Just when everyone thought Marseille had given up, suddenly, a ray of fire lit up, illuminating his hideous face.
But the next second, Cisco's words completely discouraged Marseille's courage to fight: "I'll give you one last chance. Ten seconds. After ten seconds, I will only shoot once. Whether you survive or not, it's up to God."
Marseille was stunned. Ten seconds?
What's the meaning?
The subordinates behind Cisco smiled at the same time. They all knew what this meant.
Before Marseille could think about it, Psyker on the other side had already started counting, and his steady tone sounded like a mechanical clock telling time.
"one."
“FUCK!”
Marseille had no time to think, he turned over and crawled to his feet, but the gravel under his feet made him slip suddenly, and his heavy body fell to the ground again, and his trembling fat swayed like waves.
"two."
Marseille ignored the blood on his palms and the pain in his knees and got up again.
"three."
"Run, run quickly."
At this moment, Ma Sai burst out with the fastest running speed in his life. Even when he was sixteen years old and participated in a 100-meter race in front of the girl he liked, his speed was not as fast as this one.
At this moment, he even felt that Bolt was no better than him.
Facts have proved that human potential is truly infinite. When Cisco reported the number ten, even Marseille, who weighed over 200 pounds, ran nearly 70 meters.
Looking at Marseille, which had almost become a dot, the corners of Cisco's mouth curled up slightly.
"Bang!"
"Run out... Ugh! How, how is it possible!!"
Marseille opened his eyes wide, his life ended, the bullet shot into his body with great kinetic energy, leaving a smoking bullet hole in the bloated coat, a wave of blood splashed out, bringing out pink fat.
Cisco walked towards Marseille slowly.
Marseille lowered his head, took a look at the bullet holes on his body with great effort, looked at Psyker's blurry figure, and said only one sentence: "Sooner or later, you, you will be like me, like me...!"
Cisco came to Marseille, raised his gun and tapped the brim of his hat, and said with a smile: "Then I hope this day will come later."
“Bang!”
"Gulp."
Bifang pressed his back against the wall, feeling the countless intersecting trajectories behind him. The deadly bullets flew past the wall, and a trace of cold sweat slid down his forehead.
He swallowed, somewhat incredulous.
In terms of actual combat accuracy, pistols are far inferior to rifles and machine guns, because pistols have a short aiming baseline, have no support for shooting, and their actual combat usage distance is often only controlled between 5 and 20 meters.
Most trained soldiers can only guarantee the shooting accuracy of pistols at a distance of 25 meters. If the distance is to be guaranteed at 50 meters, only a very small number of shooting experts can hit a fixed target. If the target is moving, the difficulty of hitting it will more than double.
Over sixty meters, in dim light, one shot hits the target.
How is it possible! ?
