Violent Car Hijacking

“No wonder this is a country in turmoil—chemicals are so easy to obtain here,” Hou Rui remarked with a sigh. Wild Hair, passing by, sneered, “Chemicals? Turbulent country? These are nothing but ordinary household cleaning supplies. You can get them anywhere without any trouble.”

“You mean you can make bombs with just these things?” Hou Rui, accustomed to military supplies from the organization, found it hard to believe.

“That depends on whose hands they fall into,” Iron Man, who was focused on his task, responded without looking up. He picked up a bottle of dark brown liquid, casually poured a handful of five-millimeter steel balls inside, then resealed the bottle and used tape to fasten a bundle of seven-centimeter nails around its exterior, increasing the shrapnel for the explosion.

He’s ruthless! Hou Rui wisely kept that thought to himself this time and moved with Shell Casing toward where Sprite was.

“We should be able to get an armored vehicle with some effort. It’s equipped with a 12.7-millimeter machine gun and a quadruple 14.5 anti-aircraft gun,” Shell Casing reported succinctly on the reconnaissance.

“That’s enough. Get ready. Tomorrow night the assassination target will attend a government banquet. We’ll strike en route,” Sprite replied, her table and hands covered with sheets of paper scribbled full of information gathered by various teams.

“But…” Shell Casing hesitated before turning away, reluctant to admit his misstep, since getting spotted was nothing to be proud of.

“But what? Did something happen?” Sprite, who had been writing, paused, her pen still, and looked up intently at Shell Casing. Her mismatched green and gold eyes were piercing and cold.

“There was a minor incident. Wild Dog and I ran into some government soldiers, but I’m certain they had no chance to raise the alarm.”

“Did you have to shoot?”

“No, not a single shot was fired.”

After a moment’s thought, Sprite grabbed a map and began sketching rapidly, occasionally pulling notes from the pile to reference. She worked intensely for half an hour before abruptly looking up. “Everyone, gather up. The operation must be moved up.”

Barely an hour later, Hou Rui and Shell Casing returned to the government armored regiment’s encampment. Fearing Blackwater’s intelligence service might notice Shell Casing’s involvement, Sprite had decided to advance the plan—no waiting for the government banquet. They would attack the Blackwater garrison that very night.

From a distance, Shell Casing nodded to Misha and Emma across from the camp gate. Once he received their signal, he cracked his whip, urging the stolen ox cart toward the entrance.

Hou Rui, riding the cart, was tense; his AK-47’s safety was already off, hidden beneath his robe. As soon as Shell Casing got close, his job was to suppress the guards near the gate, help the team seize the armored vehicle before the defenders could react, and then escape to join the battle at the Blackwater base.

Three hundred meters. Two hundred fifty. Two hundred.

The closer they drew, the more restless Hou Rui’s mind became. He suddenly realized Sprite’s plan was utterly mad—snatch the vehicle, attack, drive off, annihilate. If any link in this chain failed, they were all doomed.

But it was too late for second thoughts. All Hou Rui could do was watch as the ox cart crept nearer and nearer to the gate, and to the muzzles of guns and cannons.

At a hundred meters from the entry point, a soldier with an assault rifle stepped forward, signaling Shell Casing to halt for inspection.

Shell Casing spoke in Arabic as he stopped the ox cart and raised his hands, walking toward the soldier. When he stood before him, using the soldier’s body to block the view of others, he handed over some papers in one hand, while the other slipped a small recurve knife under the soldier’s bulletproof vest, stabbing ruthlessly into his vulnerable abdomen.

With Shell Casing’s attack, the signal for action was given. In an instant, Hou Rui, who had been sitting demurely on the cart, raised his rifle and fired two three-shot bursts at the pair of soldiers five meters away.

Rattatat, rattatat—the unsuspecting Libyan soldiers dropped instantly, their faces frozen in terror. The gate area descended into chaos; even the townsfolk at the distant market scattered, terrified of being caught in the crossfire.

Then the sharp blare of alarms rang out in the camp. Chatting soldiers at the gate rushed over in a frenzy. Tank and armored vehicle crews scrambled into their compartments, hastily rotating turrets to respond.

Shell Casing, still clutching the stabbed soldier, hunched behind his human shield. One arm threaded through the man’s armpit to keep him upright, the other seized the dead man’s AK-47 and opened fire on the advancing troops.

A torrent of bullets raked Shell Casing’s shield, riddling it with holes, but he bought precious seconds. With his free hand, he hurled a plastic bottle from his belt toward the gate post.

The heavy machine gun in the guard bunker thundered. Shell Casing barely slipped behind a concrete barricade, as 12.7 mm rounds sent chips of stone flying from the foot-thick cover.

Unable to hit him for now, the machine gun swung toward Hou Rui, who dove off the ox cart and took cover behind its wooden frame.

The wood, of course, was no match for cement. Hou Rui’s fragile shelter was shredded in an instant. The poor ox, caught in the crossfire, was riddled with bullets and collapsed in a pool of blood.

At that critical moment, the plastic bottle Shell Casing had thrown burst with a muffled bang; a plume of deep purple smoke billowed up, quickly shrouding half the gate area and obscuring the soldiers’ line of fire.

Two thunderous explosions sounded almost as one. The T-72 tank roared to life, its tracks churning forward to block the gate. The move was likely meant to stop the attackers from entering, but it also cut off reinforcements from inside, inadvertently aiding Hou Rui’s team.

The tank’s main gun immediately blasted Shell Casing’s barricade, gouging a crater the size of a basin and sending debris flying three or four meters high, setting off a patch of flames behind the barrier.

There was no time for concern for others. Using the purple smoke for cover, Hou Rui dashed forward, making it to another barricade. As he vaulted over, he found himself face-to-face with two terrified Libyan soldiers, also seeking shelter.

Both sides stared in shock for a split second, then Hou Rui reacted first, squeezing the trigger and sweeping the gun upward without aiming. The line of bullet holes crept along the ground until it reached the two soldiers.

Wild shots zipped past Hou Rui, but he saw blood spurt from his opponents’ legs and torsos—his bullets had struck first.

Screaming, more out of adrenaline than fear, Hou Rui held the trigger down until his magazine ran dry. The two Libyan soldiers slumped, riddled with bullets.

He finally exhaled, slumping against the barricade. He ejected the empty magazine and reached for another—only to find he was out. All three he’d brought were spent. He crawled forward, grabbing a rifle and two spare magazines from a dead Libyan.

Reloaded, Hou Rui pressed on with his mission. He fired two shots over the barricade toward the gate post, then shifted position, moving up behind the barriers and occasionally firing to keep the Libyans distracted.

His diversion worked perfectly. Not only did the soldiers focus on him, but both armored vehicles joined in, blasting the barricades with cannon fire.

A chunk of shrapnel from a shattered barrier struck Hou Rui’s face, turning half his vision red with blood streaming from his forehead.

“Hasn’t Shell Casing gotten the vehicle yet? If this keeps up, I’m finished,” Hou Rui thought, hearing footsteps approaching. He quickly hurled a grenade in that direction and moved again as the fragments scattered.

Meanwhile, near the armored vehicle—

Under cover of purple smoke, Shell Casing darted forward, agile as a monkey, vaulting obstacles with ease. He was nearly at the vehicle when two groups of Libyan soldiers appeared at the next barricade, both firing toward Hou Rui’s position but completely blocking Shell Casing’s path forward…