Invasion of America

Chapter 63 Killing Personality

A secret investigation into Electric Flight had been underway for a month. Governor Parker had indicated that Zhou Qingfeng, who controlled the company, should be apprehended if necessary.

As for the charges, just make one up for him - illegal well digging, test flights affecting migratory birds, and abusing technological advantages to monopolize the market!

This still needs to be taught?!

The agents from the two investigative agencies knew something about the test farm, that Zhou Qingfeng was very rich, and that he had a group of armed guards under him.

The agents weren't fools and never considered charging into the farm. They preferred to surround it with their men, hoping to get the people inside to surrender by shouting at them.

The last time Zhou Qingfeng attacked Chris Farm, he mobilized the National Guard; this time, a large number of National Guards surrounded the same place.

In the gray fog outside the test farm, hundreds of military vehicles lined up in a long queue on the highway, their engines roaring, their headlights cutting through the darkness, rushing forward.

But when Director Carl Vinson saw that the road to the farm was full of potholes, he knew that the joint operation between the IRS and the FBI had failed.

Because there are a lot of low-flying 'Warthogs' on the farm.
-
A V-22 Osprey tilt-rotor aircraft loaned from the Air Force cut through the night sky. Its huge twin rotors emitted a low roar, and its fuselage shuttled through the clouds, casting a blurry shadow.

In this gray-green behemoth, Lieutenant Lula of the National Guard and twenty or thirty fully armed soldiers were squeezed into the narrow cabin.

Before the operation, Lula did not actually receive any specific mission instructions. He only knew that it was an order from Governor Parker to cooperate with the FBI to carry out an "investigation."

But this rhetoric seemed familiar - it started with the same vagueness when Chris's farm was attacked last time.

As the Osprey gradually lowered its altitude, the entire view of the farm came into view.

Lula leaned out of the porthole and immediately recognized that he had been to this place before. He also understood his mission in an instant.

A series of exciting guesses flashed through his mind: this secret operation must be a sudden blow to "illegal smugglers", "thieves who stole the country" or "despicable foreigners".

"Runway! Runway! Land on the runway!" Lula yelled in the cockpit at the top of his lungs. "There's a plane over this farm. Don't let the target slip away from the sky!"

He ran to the cockpit and pointed to the flattest runway below.

The pilot nodded and skillfully adjusted the joystick. The Osprey's fuselage tilted, the rotors stirred up a strong wind, and it dived towards the target.

Lula's heartbeat quickened, and his chest felt as if a fire was burning—blocking the runway would cut off the enemy's air escape route. Even before the battle began, he already felt he had a sure win.

However, just as the Osprey was about to touch the ground, an accident happened.

A rugged-looking Warthog low-flying aircraft slowly rolled out of the farm's hangar. Instead of taking the runway, it landed on the grass, its eight fans starting up simultaneously, emitting a shrill whistling sound.

The dead grass and gravel on the ground were blown up by the strong wind, like a small sandstorm.

The Warthog shook its fuselage and took off vertically, its movements as smooth as a bird of prey spreading its wings, completely ignoring the existence of the runway.

"Fuck!" The pilot in the cockpit widened his eyes and couldn't help but curse. "Damn 'Todai', how could they come up with such a useful thing!"

The Osprey is indeed a good guy. It can take off and land vertically and cruise at high speed. However, it needs to be warmed up and checked before each takeoff. It is nowhere near as agile as the Warthog that can take off at any time.

Lula squeezed to the porthole and watched the Warthog rise higher and higher, his heart pounding. He slammed the bulkhead and yelled, "Hold him down! Hold him down!"

He wished there was a helicopter on the scene that could swoop in and pin this arrogant "wild boar" back to the ground.

Perhaps God heard Lula's prayers, and a helicopter with the "IRS" (Internal Revenue Service) logo appeared from the side.

Its rotors whipped up sharp gusts of wind, and its fuselage nimbly hovered over the top of the Warthog, like an eagle locking onto its prey.

The helicopter pilot was obviously very experienced. He used the airflow and altitude advantage to block the Warthog's ascending path, making it unable to move.

"Great! It can't escape!" Lula excitedly punched the bulkhead and grinned, revealing his white teeth.

The soldiers in the cabin were infected for unknown reasons and let out low cheers.

Outside the window, the fan of the "Warthog" was still roaring in vain, but under the suppression of the helicopter, it could only struggle in mid-air, like a bird with its wings trapped.

Then a Warthog appeared in the hangar next to it.

The motor was overloaded briefly, and the eight fans spun frantically, driving the aircraft with a wingspan of more than ten meters into the air and quickly disappearing into the night.

The cheers in the Osprey cabin suddenly stopped. Lula and the other soldiers were all stunned, as if they had seen a vision of God.

It turns out that there is more than one low-flying aircraft as the target.

The pilot in the cockpit turned around and cursed, "What are you doing? Get down quickly and block those hangars."

The rear hatch of the Osprey clanged open, and twenty or thirty soldiers rushed out screaming. Just as they were trying to stop something.
The first Warthog to take off and hover actually turned after pausing for a moment, nimbly avoiding the IRS helicopter overhead.

The IRS pilot attempted to continue suppressing the first Warthog to take off.

As a result, the "Warthog" accelerated at a low altitude, and at a height of more than ten meters above the ground, it rushed out and entered the darkness.

Lieutenant Lula ran towards the hangar, but lost his temper halfway through. During this delay, a third Warthog successfully took off and fled in a different direction.
-
Zhou Qingfeng had made a detailed plan for this intensive experiment a month ago.

He expected to be in a coma for three to five days. In order to ensure that he could pass this period smoothly, he carefully prepared a series of plans to deal with all possible emergencies.

It turned out that his preparations were extremely thorough and almost foolproof - evacuation routes, shelters, and emergency equipment were all available.

However, fate always likes to play jokes. The worst low-probability event he imagined actually happened when it should not have happened.

Someone from the US government was keeping an eye on him, and Diaz from the 'Tree of Justice' deliberately did not provide any warning.

The joint action of the IRS and the FBI was like a giant net, rushing towards him with undisguised hostility, trying to catch him and control him, even at the cost of fabricating charges.

As for the reason? Zhou Qingfeng didn't bother to guess, nor did he intend to surrender. He was no longer a small-time figure at the mercy of others, nor would he complain about others coveting him.

Outside the test manor, a low roar of engines could be heard in the distance, and a convoy of military and police vehicles fiercely tore through the night.

FBI and National Guard armored vehicles lined up in a line, their headlights glaring and their red and blue police lights flashing in the fog, as if a pack of hounds had smelled the blood of their prey.

This situation directly triggered Zhou Qingfeng's preset retreat procedure - the monitoring system issued a sharp alarm, and the drone footage showed that the enemy had entered the five-kilometer warning line.

Zhou Qingfeng once asked the "Gray Shark" team to prepare for the end of the world and secretly set up multiple shelters around Miami.

At this moment, if he activated one of them and let him hide for a few days, he could avoid this storm. Naturally, there would be various ways to deal with it later.

The means of escape are even more readily available - the "Holy Light" series of electric low-altitude aircraft developed by the company, which is specially designed for free maneuvering in a doomsday environment.

If you don’t use it now, when will you wait?
Zhou Qingfeng, who is in a coma, has no ability to take care of himself and needs someone to take care of him.

The person responsible for accompanying the evacuation was the "corpse collector's" wife Mary, a calm and capable middle-aged nurse, who ensured that Zhou Qingfeng's vital signs were not affected during the transfer.

"Holy Light No. 1" is Zhou Qingfeng's exclusive vehicle and also the top-performing low-altitude electric aircraft.

While the factory price of the basic model of the Warthog is trying to be reduced to 500,000 RMB, its cost is 5 million US dollars.

An aluminum alloy frame and carbon fiber skin are used to replace the fiberglass shell, reducing the weight of the entire machine by 20%.

Its eight powered fans provide a 20 percent increase in power, allowing it to take off and land vertically in a tight space, a true marvel of engineering.

It does not adopt a pure electric architecture, but is equipped with a car's "hybrid power" to generate electricity with the help of high calorific value gasoline, doubling the range.

Equipped with a variety of sensors including laser, millimeter wave, and vision, it not only retains the manned driving mode, but can also automatically switch to unmanned driving.

When the evacuation plan was implemented, Zhou Qingfeng was immediately placed in the cabin of the "Holy Light No. 1".

Nurse Mary was going to go with him, but she needed to bring some medical equipment, and the chaos of the retreat slowed her down.

As the roar of rotors sounded in the sky, like invisible blades cutting through the air, the Osprey emerged from the darkness.

Time suddenly became urgent.

Kelly made a prompt decision: "'Holy Light One', take off immediately! Mary, you take 'Holy Light Two' and follow up!" The fan of "Holy Light One" started roaring, and the fuselage shook slightly, and was about to take off from the ground.

Suddenly, a helicopter with the "IRS" logo appeared in the sky and hovered above its head. The airflow created by the rotors suppressed its upward space.

Instead, the "Holy Light II" took advantage of the chaos and rushed out of the encirclement carrying Mary and the nursing equipment, flying low into the depths of the night.

Kelly panicked for a moment. "'Holy Light One', land! No, wait—'Holy Light Three', prepare to take off!"

She wanted to get Zhou Qingfeng out of danger first, but the "Holy Light No. 1" was suppressed and could not move. Landing was tantamount to walking into a trap, so she was at a loss for a moment.

At this critical moment, the onboard computer of "Holy Light No. 1" automatically activated the avoidance program.

The laser radar detected a threat from above and decisively gave up vertical takeoff. Instead, it adjusted its attitude, tilted its eight fans, and glided at low altitude close to the ground.

The aircraft was like a nimble hummingbird, seeking an opening to avoid the suppression of the helicopter overhead, soaring dozens of meters at a height of more than ten meters, and quickly disappeared into the night.

The pilot of the IRS helicopter was caught off guard and took a second to react, but it was too late.

However, an hour later, 'Gray Shark' sent Kelly a message, "We got Nurse Mary, but where's Victor?"

What? !
-
The night was deep, and the 'Holy Light No. 1' in stealth mode activated its laser radar and flew at a low altitude of less than 100 meters at a speed of 300 kilometers per hour like a nimble black hawk.

Inside the cabin, Zhou Qingfeng's consciousness slowly emerged from the chaos. His eyelids fluttered slightly, and he slowly opened his eyes, his throat slightly dry.

Apart from this slight discomfort, he felt surprisingly well physically. If you didn't count the lingering fog in his head, everything seemed normal.

He propped himself up and sat up, and heard a low buzzing sound in his ears. It was the vibration and wind noise caused by eight fans and a speed of 300 kilometers per hour.

The cabin was dimly lit, with only a weak emergency light embedded in the cabin wall, casting a cold white light.

He looked around. There was no other figure in the narrow space. Only the metal cabin wall reflected the faint light, appearing cold and silent.

He looked down and saw that he had a blood oximeter between his fingers, an IV in his arm, and a urinary catheter in his lower body. Every movement made him frown.

He gritted his teeth, endured the pain and pulled out the restraints one by one, and thought calmly: "Where am I?"

Rubbing his numb wrist, he noticed a piece of paper taped to the wall in front of him. The handwriting was crooked and clearly his own.

He squinted his eyes and took a closer look. It said: "Don't panic, you just injected the 'X' enhancer. You will have a temporary loss of brain control, just like a hard drive being formatted.

The mitochondria in your cells provide you with more energy, but your muscles and bones remain the same.

Based on previous experience, your brain needs twenty to thirty days to recover, and your body needs six months to a year to fully strengthen.

During this period, your physical instincts will be normal, but your emotions will become unusually indifferent. Just listen to the arrangements of those around you and don't worry.

Zhou Qingfeng stared at the note expressionlessly for several minutes. He had indeed entered a state of neither sadness nor joy, neither alarm nor panic, like a calmly running machine.

But the cabin was empty, not even a breath of air.

He hadn't recovered his strength yet, so he staggered to his feet, steadying himself on the bulkhead. He glanced out the window and said, "I'm in a small plane."

"But there's no one else around." He looked out the porthole. It was pitch black outside, with only the occasional flash of light and a blurry horizon in the distance.

"'X' enhancer? Didn't I get it injected once? Why do I need it again?" He looked around, trying to find a clue.

"Where is this plane going? Where is the pilot? Who brought me in?"

Zhou Qingfeng had made countless plans for what would happen if he fell into a coma, but he never expected that at the critical moment he would actually be hunted down by the authorities.

Not to mention waking up at the critical moment of evacuation, alone, in a aircraft with an unknown destination.

His gaze fell back on the note. The familiar handwriting seemed to be mocking him, while the night outside the cabin was like a huge net, silently enveloping him.

Zhou Qingfeng's hand subconsciously grasped the joystick of the "Warthog", and his palm touched the cold metal joystick.

The onboard system responded immediately, and a cold, synthesized voice came from my ear: "Do you want to disengage the autopilot?"

"No..." Zhou Qingfeng refused.

The cockpit was empty, with only the faint green light from the dashboard illuminating his furrowed brow. The low hum of the engine beside his ears was like the panting of a trapped animal, monotonous and oppressive.

It feels like I've had a heavy drink and lost my memory. I have to slowly remember something.

But his blank mind and lonely surroundings reminded him that something must have gone terribly wrong. But he couldn't figure out what was wrong.

After flying continuously at high speed for more than an hour, the system suddenly issued a sharp reminder: "Battery power is low, fuel remaining is 20%."

The voice was like an urgent alarm bell, forcing him to make a decision as soon as possible.

Zhou Qingfeng fumbled with the control interface next to the driver's seat, swiped his fingertips across the screen, and found an option - "Emergency automatic landing".

The onboard computer will automatically choose the appropriate location and method to ensure a safe landing. This seems to be the most reliable option at the moment.

Seeing the battery level continuously decreasing, he decisively pressed the confirmation button.

The "Warthog" then slowed down, the roar of its eight electric engines gradually became lower, the fuselage trembled slightly, and began to sink slowly.

The lidar in the cabin was activated, and a green terrain scan map popped up on the screen, with fine lines outlining the contours below.

The air flow under the wing was whistling and swirling. Zhou Qingfeng stared out the window, and a blurry ground gradually emerged in the night.

Vertical take-off and landing do not require high ground flatness, even if there are some potholes.

Half a minute later, accompanied by a slight vibration, the "Warthog" landed steadily and the hatch popped open with a "click".

A cool breeze blew on my face, mixed with the scent of soil and grass.

Zhou Qingfeng jumped out of the cabin and put his feet on the solid ground. The sense of groundedness at that moment made him feel particularly comfortable.

He let out a long breath, rubbed his stiff neck, and was about to look around when he heard a rude shout from behind him:

"Hey, Yellow Monkey, where are you from? That thing you're driving looks pretty good, you must be very rich."

The sound was abrupt and harsh.

Zhou Qingfeng turned around suddenly, and with the help of the cold white light of the Warthog's wing landing lights, he caught a glimpse of a figure rushing out of the darkness.

The other person was tall and reeked of alcohol. A rough big hand slapped his shoulder.

Almost as an instinctive reaction, Zhou Qingfeng lowered his body and thrust his elbow hard into the opponent's ribs.

The man groaned, but before he could react, Zhou Qingfeng launched another swift straight punch, hitting him squarely in the chin.

Then he grabbed the man's loose collar, hooked his feet, twisted his body, and threw the man out with a clean and neat over-the-shoulder throw.

The guy screamed and flew four or five meters like a broken sack, hitting the ground with a "bang". In the dust, he twitched twice and fainted.

This set of actions was Zhou Qingfeng's instinctive reaction. After completing it, he stood where he was, his eyes coldly sweeping over the drunk man who fell to the ground.

The light from the landing aid lamp cast a hard and ruthless shadow on his face, and certain hidden memories were pieced together and reorganized, appearing in his blank brain.

"My rebirth cannot be so mediocre."

“I don’t exist to make money and enjoy myself.”

"My goal is to face the end of the world."

Killer personality, start!

(End of this chapter)