death of hope

Chapter 980 "Psionic Storm" (55) The Mysterious Traveler

The group traversed mountain ridges and trudged through the saline wasteland on the outskirts of Shin-Sapporo.

Finally, we found a campervan settlement with lights on, and settled into a run-down motel.
As soon as he entered the house, Paul busied himself, searching high and low for cameras and listening devices:
"Old Cui, look outside,"

"Understood, boss,"

Drizzt Darkmoon drew his dagger, poked a crack in the blinds, and warily observed the forest, RV, and dirt road outside the inn.

The Eldar's pupils are much more complex than humans', giving them a degree of night vision.
Psionic sensing is also extremely useful, as it can be used to detect drones and other spy equipment, making it an indispensable 'early warning system' for the team:
"Nothing's wrong."

Drizzt closed the blinds, turned his head, and gave an 'OK' sign:

"No one is following us, so we're safe, at least for now."

"Thank you for your hard work, Lao Cui,"

·
Paul Korchagin examined his men with his pure and ardent gaze:
"We've traveled a long way and everyone is tired, but we'll still take turns keeping watch tonight."

"That's right, that's how it should be,"

Drizzt agreed with the young leader: "Better safe than sorry."

"So sleepy...so tired..."

Donya slung her submachine gun over her shoulder and forced herself to stay alert: "You guys rest, I'll keep an eye on things outside."

"No,"

Paul patted his chest and said, "I'm full of energy and will take the first shift. You guys rest."

Sergei, the bearded man, yawned: "Then I won't be polite, I get sleepy when I've had too much to drink~"

The bearded man lay on the moldy floor, using his backpack as a pillow, and within seconds he was snoring loudly into a deep sleep.

"Ugh, Old Xie never takes a bath..." Donya pinched her nose.

"Such a strong smell of alcohol... Sometimes I really envy this rough guy, carefree, doesn't worry about anything, falls asleep as soon as he hits the bed and drinks as soon as he wakes up..."

·
Paul looked down at the drunkard snoring loudly, his tone tinged with pity:

"Old Xie has a lot on his mind, and he can only numb himself with alcohol. Although he has many flaws, he is a good person at heart. Everyone should be more tolerant, especially Old Cui, who always suffers from his verbal abuse."

"Let him curse me all he wants, I don't care!"

Tristana smiled: "This drunkard is always cursing and arguing with me, but in battle he's willing to risk his life to cover my back."

Old Xie, that guy, he's a real alcoholic, but he's also a reliable comrade-in-arms.

Paul felt a warmth in his heart upon hearing this: "Rest, everyone. I'll be on duty for the first half of the night."

"Thank you for your hard work, boss."

Tristana sat down, her long legs propped up on the coffee table, an automatic pistol in her hand, her pointed ears peeking out from the side of her hat like antennas, alert even in her sleep. Donya, a clean freak, wanted to take a hot shower even though she was tired, but after seeing the large gray rat and swarms of cockroaches in the bathroom, she gave up.

She crawled into her sleeping bag and peeked at Paul, who stood as straight as a pine tree by the blinds. The young man was tall, handsome, and a very kind person. Tonya smiled as she fell asleep, dreaming of this prince on a white horse.

·
Paul felt sorry for everyone being so tired and originally intended to keep watch all night by himself, but unexpectedly, Sergei, who was sleeping like a log, woke up and volunteered to take over his shift, taking charge of the second half of the night.

Nothing happened overnight, and the next morning, the chubby waiter at the inn brought breakfast.

Hard, rock-hard bread sandwiched burnt hot dogs, along with several bowls of pre-made cream soup brimming with technology and rudimentary techniques.

It looked really unappetizing, and it was indeed hard to swallow, but the guerrillas were used to the hardships of eating and sleeping in the open, so they didn't care at all; they were just glad to have enough to eat.

On a dirt road a hundred meters from the hotel, shirtless porters were loading bags of high-grade cement onto an old, worn-out Dodge truck.
Paul chatted with the truck driver for a bit and learned that he was going to a construction site in New Sapporo. He slipped the driver a pack of Marlboro cigarettes in exchange for a ride.

The four men sat cross-legged on the cement in the truck bed, watching the gray-yellow dirt road turn into a black asphalt highway, and seeing the skyscrapers of New Sapporo, with holographic advertisements coming closer and closer.

Wow, what a metropolis!

Tonya had been staying at the base for too long and longed to visit a big city like Shin-Sapporo, to try the local specialties, and especially to see the Millennium Tower, to snuggle in Paul's arms and watch the night view, her heart filled with romantic fantasies.

Paul's mind was completely elsewhere; as he watched the driver turn off the main road leading to the city and onto a side road, suspicion arose:

·
Why not take the main road?

"There's a ghost on the cliff,"

“Something’s not right,”

The three men exchanged glances, and both Drizzt and Sergei became suspicious, whispering to each other:

"What should we do? Jump out of the car and escape, or steal the car and interrogate the driver?"

"Don't rush, don't wrong an innocent person, observe first."

"Donya, pretend you have diarrhea and run deeper into the woods to give those two space to talk."

"Understood~"

Paul stepped over the cement bags and knocked on the top of the cab:

"what?"

"Dude, could you please stop? We need to find a place to relieve ourselves."

"Does it have to be now? Can't we wait until later?"

"I ate something bad this morning, and my stomach and intestines are all twisted up. I can't stand spicy food."

"Wow! No! Don't pull me into your car!"

The car pulled over to the side of the road. Donya clutched her stomach, turning back every three steps, pretending to avoid suspicion as she ran into the depths of the woods, even deliberately tripping over a tree root.