Chapter 117: Chapter 117: Taking Action
They happened to look back and saw the person at the edge, with smoke rising from his head...
So... that last shot, the one who got hit was one of their own?
Who fired the shot?
Could it have been Dane and Jay Monroe, firing before they rolled to the ground...
The mechanical score report in their earpieces sounded right on cue.
"Team Blue sniper, Renee Morgan scores one point, total 51 points."
The patrol heard the name, and the headshot score "51" afterward. They didn’t even bother about Dane and Jay Monroe, who were hiding in the bushes, and hurriedly took out their communicators to report the situation.
When Jude led his group out in pursuit, the patrol teams had already been decimated—sixteen patrol members, not a single survivor.
The names ringing repeatedly in the earpiece, all belonged to the same person...
"..."
"Team Blue sniper, Renee Morgan scores one point, total 66 points."
Under Renee Morgan’s cover, Jay Monroe and Dane escaped with their lives. After scaling the high wall, they tried to follow their planned route back to base, only to run into a Team Red squad.
That night on the sea was pitch-black; Dane didn’t recognize the man at the front as Kennedy—the one who rammed their rescue boat.
But Jay Monroe recognized him instantly.
Kennedy saw Jay Monroe, and a mocking smile curved his lips.
Jay Monroe and Dane didn’t waste time sparring with him, spun around, and darted quickly into the side streets.
Kennedy waved his hand, calm and unhurried: "Spread out, pursue, don’t let them get away."
The others, gripping rifles and submachine guns, had no objections. Well-trained, they split up and gave chase.
Renee Morgan evacuated from the fourth floor, slung her sniper rifle behind her, and walked lightly down the stairs. Passing the second floor, she ran into Jude, who was treading just as softly upstairs.
Truth be told, this wasn’t the first clash between the two.
The first time, Jay Monroe was trapped at the edge of the forest, and Renee Morgan rescued him from Hugh and Jude.
This was the second time.
When Renee Morgan saw Jude, Jude noticed her right away too.
One up, one down, staring at each other across half a staircase.
Not the first clash, but the first time meeting face to face.
It was Jude’s first time seeing the Team Blue female sniper in person.
In his mind, women with such fierce skills weren’t usually big and burly, but most looked utterly ordinary—people often remarked, looks don’t match the talent.
He never expected—she would be this kind of woman.
She wore a blue uniform, long sniper rifle on her back, thick black hair tied up high, bright almond-shaped eyes clear and sharp, distinct black and white irises carrying a force that struck straight to the heart, staring at him steadily.
No romance involved, but his heartbeat sped up.
Jude raised his sniper rifle, aiming at Renee Morgan, and pulled the trigger without hesitation...
He figured since he had his sniper rifle in hand and Renee Morgan’s rifle was strapped behind her, she’d be slower to act.
To his surprise, she suddenly pressed on the handrail and leapt from above—the bullet whizzed past her, and in a few heartbeats, her silhouette was already close. Her legs crashed directly into his chest.
Dane had tasted this move once before—that rib-breaking pain in the chest. Now Jude felt it for himself.
His face flushed, letting out a painful grunt, tears springing to his eyes.
Renee Morgan’s hand flashed with a knife—military blade jabbed at his helmet, then she swiftly withdrew from atop him.
"Team Blue sniper, Renee Morgan scores one point, total 67 points."
Holding his still-aching chest, Jude was suddenly greeted by a hand appearing in front of him.
That hand was clean and well-groomed. A soft female voice spoke: "Sorry, are you okay?"
Jude looked up into her shimmering, water-bright eyes. With an apologetic smile at the corner of her lips, she reached out—her long, strong hand sincere in its gesture.
"No worries, I’m fine." The pain in his chest fading away, Jude took her hand and stood up.
Rivals and friends—they made each other better by just being there.
Neither spoke again; they left, one after the other.
Renee Morgan strolled casually down the pitch-black street, turned the corner out of the alley, and was about to head back when a ticking sound came through her earpiece, making her pause.
Communications just connected when Jay Monroe’s panting voice came through: "Southwest, Kennedy’s squad, can’t shake them..."
His words were scattered, but Renee Morgan understood, immediately turned on her heel, sprinting off toward the southwest.
At that moment, the livestream screen looked like a single frame from a stunning movie—the girl carrying a long sniper rifle, swiftly running through the streets, just like that comic-book heroine who runs for her teammates, reckless and brave.
The bustling livestream chat quieted instantly—no one wanted to break the tension of the moment.
Renee Morgan ran through several blocks before finally spotting Jay Monroe.
Eight people chased behind him, rifles always pointed at Jay Monroe.
Jay Monroe was clever enough—the three dots on his helmet were his death zone. As long as he kept running forward, never looked back, and didn’t get caught, no matter how much they shot, no one could hit the headshot scoring point in front.
Renee Morgan watched the group getting closer, glanced around, then picked the roadside thicket to lie in wait, her sniper rifle aimed at the ones chasing Jay Monroe.
One hundred meters, eighty, fifty...
Renee Morgan squeezed the trigger. "Bang!" Then reloaded quickly; "Bang!"...
She fired fast—four shots in a row, all headshots.
The four remaining saw their teammates with smoke rising from their heads, and heard over the earpiece who scored the headshots. Even Jay Monroe chasing became secondary—they hurriedly backed away, standing back-to-back, rifles scanning the surroundings, trying to pinpoint Renee Morgan’s location.
Snipers excel at hiding. This time, they encountered Renee Morgan, who could shoot prone. Before they even spotted her, another shot rang out overhead.
Only three left.
This shot also let them confirm the direction of the bullet, and their rifles immediately swung that way.
It was the roadside thicket—still no trace of the shooter.
"Bang!" Another shot.
Now only two were left.
This time, they finally pinned her position in the thicket.
They raised their rifles and sprayed bullets at the spot—the heavy recoil made their hands tremble, making it hard to pull the trigger again, yet the thicket didn’t so much as move.
She’s not there?
They exchanged wary glances, stepped cautiously closer, keeping their rifles trained on the thicket.
Once they reached the thicket, they realized suddenly—no one was there.
She ran?
Where did she go?
They looked all around, heard a strange sound and looked up, only to see on the other end of the thicket, a woman standing tall against the night. Her long hair tied high, black ponytail whipping in the wind, both hands gripping a long sniper rifle, head tilted, aiming down the sights.
"Bang, bang!"
Two close-range shots—no suspense—both stared up, eyes rolling, as smoke drifted from their heads.
Unlike other players who drooped their heads and left quietly, the two Team Red members shot by Renee Morgan stared at her, motionless.