Chapter 124: Chapter 124: Genius
Bama understood too, his forehead scrunching into Kavanagh’s trademark "dog-saw-a-ghost" frown: "So what now, we just give up?"
Waking up at the crack of dawn, trekking over mountains to get here, waiting half the morning—and now someone’s saying we can’t beat the enemy? That kinda mood is...
Bama took a deep breath, letting the sweat roll down from his nose, face full of utter defeat.
Jay Monroe and Dane squatted on the ground, brows furrowed, unable to make a decision—the fight’s too risky, but just giving up on this chance feels impossible to swallow.
"We can fight. It’s not impossible." A calm woman’s voice sounded through the earpiece.
The others all perked up: "How do we fight?"
...
"Up ahead—that’s the mountain road you mentioned?" In the car, Louis craned his neck to look outside.
Hugh didn’t stop Louis, didn’t tell him to sit still.
He leaned back in his seat, eyelids lowered, hiding the glint of ice in his eyes, but gave a nod as response.
They paraded down the main road, not the least bit concerned about an ambush from Team Blue.
"You think they’ll show up?" Louis glanced at the man near the window—face cold, sharp features—and once again cursed at God for being so unfair. How’d he get a face like that? If only I got it, even half would be enough.
"They’ll come." Hugh propped his elbow on the window, fingers against his cheek, his tone absolutely certain.
Louis remembered something, getting a bit excited: "You think she’ll come?"
Hugh shot him a cold side-eye—had no clue what he was getting all worked up about.
Louis: "Renee Morgan, duh. Heh, kinda wanna meet her."
Hugh, usually icy all around, actually took the trouble to warn his teammate: "Unless you want to get eliminated."
Louis’s face fell: "I’m really that bad?"
He shook his head, lips curving, then flattening: "Her and me—you really can’t call a winner just by looking at the scores?"
Renee Morgan’s at 76, Louis is only 35—the difference is more than double.
Louis argued: "Headshot points are half luck, you know."
Skill’s only fifty percent. Like, maybe him and Renee are on par, just she’s been luckier and scored higher, that’s all.
Hugh took his hand off the window, crossed his arms, closed his eyes, voice cold: "Well, good luck then."
Louis: "..."
Just as the car entered the mountain, a gunshot rang out and pierced the tire.
"Bang."
Both cars braked hard at once.
Four people got out from up ahead.
Two of them held rifles, bodies angled, muzzles aimed at both sides of the road.
The other two went to check the tires.
They checked quickly, and a Team Red member called out to the car, "Tires aren’t blown, can keep driving."
About ten seconds of silence passed, then a cold voice floated out from the car: "Let’s go."
Louis glared from the side—seriously, that’s it?
We’re leaving?
The cars started up again, crawling forward at a careful pace.
This time no gunfire was heard. But suddenly the cars jerked, and before the driver knew what happened, Hugh shouted for them to stop.
The four-man team piled out again. Two with rifles aimed at the roadside, and the other two checking the tires.
Two cars, eight tires—four of them were blown.
The Team Red member quickly informed those in the car.
Hugh and Louis, hearing the tires were blown, exchanged a glance and stepped out.
Back at their previous stopping point, they found a blank cartridge—left behind from the first shot.
This time, with no gunshot, the ground was perfectly clean.
Well, a blank round can’t pierce a tire—so how’d the tires manage to blow?
A Team Red member crawled under the car, soon pulling four sharp sticks out from the tires.
The sticks were wet, freshly cut, sticky sap still oozing, one end carved to a long sharp point. Even rushed as it was, the clean craftsmanship was almost good enough for a hobbyist’s showpiece.
"All the punctured tires are on the same side." The Team Red member pointed to the left, towards the rising-and-falling mountainside: "The weapon was... kinda like a crossbow?"
A crossbow?
Hugh and Louis clearly disagreed, but kept quiet.
These four sticks were obviously thrown together at the last minute—comparing them to a crossbow was a stretch.
But still, pulling that off showed the person’s skill. With something so light, to pierce tires from a distance and pop four at once—Hugh and Louis knew they couldn’t have done it themselves.
"How many spare tires do we have?" Hugh turned and asked the people behind him.
"Two spares—one per car." came the answer.
Most cars just have one spare, Team Blue had thought of that and went for all four at once.
Hugh thought they’d try an ambush, but never imagined this kind of opening move. Who’d have guessed—live ammo is banned, blanks only—yet someone managed to whip up a DIY weapon and pop their tires anyway?
Hugh: "Put all four useable tires on one car."
Both cars were fully loaded with people—one car out, and the rest would have to walk back behind.
Seeing Hugh so calm, the others didn’t ask, just got everyone out and ready to change the tires.
Jay Monroe took a covert glance—everyone piling out, a whole crowd, at least fifty or sixty guys.
"Morgan, fire?" Jay asked, seeing four changing the tires—it’d only take minutes—and spoke to Renee in a low, tense tone.
A chilly voice came through the earpiece: "Yeah."
Jay gripped his sniper, searching for a target in the swarm. He wanted to shoot Hugh, but Team Red was well prepared today. They must have figured out Team Blue’s hiding in that left mountain hollow; after everyone got out, they all stood at an angle, so any shot from the left, even aimed dead center, couldn’t reach the three "kill zones" on their foreheads.
From this angle, you’d have to just stand in the open and go toe to toe with them.
Jay scanned the crowd—they lined up in neat rows, unmoving in formation. In the end, there were only four possible targets—the ones switching tires.
When they finished and stood up, that’d be the chance.
Jay waited patiently a few minutes, watching through the scope as they unfastened tires with their backs turned, stood up behind the car, swapped tires with another Red teammate, crouched again, and bolted on the wheels—backs always toward the sniper.
Jay: "..."
How the hell do you shoot like this?
Sweating in the blazing sun, Jay was starting to lose it. He pulled out his comm, covering his chest as he whispered: "Morgan, hurry and use your homemade weapons—just take them all out!"
Renee Morgan: "..."
To even say something like that—how desperate must you be.
Dane, hidden in a safe spot and not part of the first phase, was also surprised how cautious Team Red was. If they’d stuck to his and Jay’s original plan, they would’ve been doomed for sure.
Honestly, Renee Morgan’s a military genius.
"..."