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墨書 Inktalez
The thugs outside the warehouse had completely lost their minds. They roared loudly, raising their rifles and unleashing a barrage of gunfire at the entrance, as if they intended to drown the enemy in an impenetrable wall of bullets. The bullets rained down like hail on the walls and ground, sending debris flying and filling the air with the acrid scent of gunpowder. Shell casings fell continuously with each shot, creating a crisp sound that mingled with the clatter of shattered metal, transforming the entire area into a battlefield.
"Keep him suppressed! Don't let that bastard show his face!" one thug shouted hoarsely, his voice strained by the gunfire. He stood beside a Hummer, directing others to fire wildly at the warehouse.
The walls of the warehouse were riddled with bullet holes, and the concrete pillars were steadily eroding under the impact, small stones scattering everywhere. Mark crouched behind one of the pillars, leaning against it to catch his breath. He could feel the pillar trembling slightly under the relentless rain of bullets, as if it might be pierced at any moment.
The shotgun had clearly become useless in this situation. Mark quickly slung it behind him and retrieved his rifle from his shoulder, smoothly pulling back the bolt to check if the magazine was fully loaded. These actions helped him regain a bit of composure, but the dense sounds of gunfire and whizzing bullets still sliced through his mind like an invisible blade.
He gripped the rifle, ready to retaliate, but found that the enemy's firepower was too fierce and continuous; he couldn't even peek out. Each time he shifted slightly, he heard a series of metallic clangs nearby as a bullet grazed the edge of the pillar, sending shards flying.
"Damn it..." Mark muttered under his breath, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He scanned his surroundings for an opportunity to break through, but it was clear that the current situation inside the warehouse was not in his favor.
Just then, a familiar voice crackled through his earpiece; it was Cat 199, still speaking in that infuriatingly cheerful tone: "Wow~ Mark-sama, things outside look so exciting! Gunfire everywhere and bullets flying around; it's like a scene from an action movie! Isn’t this all just too thrilling? I’m practically feeling pumped for you!"
Mark's forehead twitched in irritation. He took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to rip off his earpiece and smash it against the ground, and shouted quietly in anger: "Cut to the chase!"
There was a brief pause on the other end before Cat 199's voice returned, now laced with amusement: "Alright, alright, no need to be so harsh, Mark-sama. Here comes the important part! I just checked—there seems to be something off about the firepower outside~ Guess what it is?"
Mark frowned deeply; his anger was intensifying but he didn’t interrupt Cat 199. Instead, he coldly replied: "Speak."
Cat 199 seemed to relish this teasing tone and lazily responded: "There’s actually a military Hummer outside~! And it’s equipped with a machine gun! Right now it's working hard to keep you from catching your breath—aren't you just thrilled?"
Upon hearing this, Mark's eyes narrowed slightly as sweat trickled down his temple. He quickly recalled the overwhelming concentration of firepower from earlier and confirmed this information in his mind. The machine gunner on that Hummer was clearly the primary source of suppression, making his movements even more difficult.
"Heavy fire?" Mark whispered coldly, his grip on the rifle tightening, knuckles whitening from the strain. He leaned against the pillar, taking a deep breath to steady his racing heart, his mind racing to devise a plan.
The rifle in Mark's hands let out one final "bang!" before the bolt jammed back, the magazine empty. He quickly slung the rifle back over his shoulder, but his gaze sharpened. Meanwhile, the machine gun mounted on the Hummer continued its relentless barrage, a storm of bullets ripping through the air inside the warehouse, suppressing any potential counterattack.
The concrete pillar behind Mark was crumbling under the onslaught, bullets shattering it into pieces. Chunks of concrete rained down like hail, and one sharp fragment grazed his cheek, leaving a bleeding wound. The searing pain reminded him that this pillar was no longer safe; it could collapse at any moment.
He wiped the blood from his face with a steady hand, his expression grim. Deep down, he knew that if he didn't act soon, these thugs would eventually suppress all his cover and force him into the line of fire. He would not let himself be a sitting duck; he absolutely refused.
Taking a deep breath, Mark quickly checked his gear, fingers brushing against a grenade at his waist. He grasped one tightly, feeling the cold metal casing in his palm; this would be key to breaking through his predicament. He inhaled deeply, pulled the pin with his fingers, and pressed his body against the pillar as he focused intently on the direction of the gunfire.
"Three, two, one..." he silently counted in his mind before hurling the grenade without hesitation.
Mark rolled out from behind cover just as he threw it, tumbling across the ground while accurately aiming for the Hummer's position. The black spherical bomb traced a perfect arc through the air before landing beside the machine gunner.
The machine gun on the Hummer continued its frenzied firing, but its massive size and the gunner's limited field of vision prevented them from immediately tracking Mark's swift movements. Seizing this brief opportunity, Mark agilely rolled to another piece of cover—a stack of wooden crates pushed against the wall. The labels on these crates clearly indicated they contained weapons for trade by the Snakebite Gang. These boxes blocked the machine gunner's line of sight and provided Mark with a momentary respite.
Just as Mark settled into hiding, the grenade hit the ground with a sharp "ping!" followed by a brief silence. The machine gunner glanced down in alarm, eyes widening in terror—but it was too late.
"Boom—!"
The explosion instantly engulfed the side of the Hummer in flames, a deafening roar nearly cracking the warehouse walls. The machine gunner and nearby thugs were thrown back by the blast; several burning bodies crashed heavily to the ground as debris flew everywhere. Scorching shrapnel pierced an oil barrel parked next to the Hummer, igniting an even larger fireball and billowing smoke.
Crouching behind the wooden crates, Mark quickly retrieved ammunition and reloaded his weapon. His expression remained steely, eyes glinting with a hint of ruthless determination. He knew this battle was far from over, but now, things were beginning to tilt in his favor as he had anticipated.
"It's my turn to counterattack," he murmured to himself, a faint smile playing on his lips as he tightened his grip on the Rifle, ready to face the upcoming battle.
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