Puzzle Madness

Chapter 16 Trap
The splinters and shards of glass from the shattered window panes had cut several holes in John Dou's coat, but he didn't have time to worry about them. Just a few meters from the window was a low building. From mid-air, John Dou could see the target that had just landed on the rooftop, as well as several shattered, dry flower pots.

Compared with his previous neat and sharp movements, the [client] now limped and supported his knee with one hand: how to protect himself when landing is a skill; it is obvious that the [client] did not master it.

In a flash, new questions flashed through his mind:

【Do you want to shoot? 】

Although the client's movements were now slow, he was still falling in the air. The difficulty of stopping the lower limbs had not changed much: if he accidentally hit the client's vitals, all his previous efforts would be in vain.
In a flash, [the client] had already opened the rusty iron door of the rooftop and slipped in: the window for shooting had disappeared.

boom!
John Dou's hard leather soles finally hit the concrete floor: he rolled forward with the momentum, relieving the impact -
Then he kept half-crouching, suddenly raised his pistol, and aimed it at the iron gate that the [client] had just rushed in.

There was no sudden figure rushing out, only a ball of dried mud rolling in circles in the broken flowerpot - this was beyond John Dou's expectations. The moment he landed unsteadily should have been the perfect time for the [Client] to launch a counterattack:
Even the tear gas smoke bombs were handmade, so it was impossible that they didn't prepare sharp weapons; a sharp blade was enough to narrow the gap in the two people's body size and fighting skills.

If it were John Dou himself, he might have pretended to be injured and attacked the enemy just as they landed; this might have a higher chance of success than simply running away:
From the quick and swift exchanges before, the [client] should have been able to tell that John Dou wanted to capture the target alive.

[Well, no surprises for me—it's probably a sprain. I don't know if it's as serious as it looks.]

He stood up and brushed off the dust around him; there was no light behind the iron gate, like a deep cave entrance.

Act first, think later: Colleagues who have dealt with John Dou all think he is an intuitive man. In fact, this is not the case - at least when he is on a mission, he never acts rashly.

John Dou coughed violently several times and spat the phlegm aside:
Wrestling training since his youth has kept him in excellent physical condition. Even though cigarettes are like mineral water to him, his size and muscle mass far surpass [Client]'s, yet his lung capacity is comparable to [Client's].
-
John Dou walked down the steps from the rooftop with his gun raised and walked into the corridor:
There were no light bulbs in the corridor. In the darkness, there was only a little light coming from the corner at the end of the corridor, reflecting on the iron window panes on the corridor.

[Client] moved slowly but steadily; her right hand clenched into a fist, bracing against the wall as she moved, the sole of her right foot dragging a long trail across the hallway floor.

She should have chosen to find a hidden spot and hide there - regardless of whether the sprain was as serious as it looked, [the client] could not rely on speed to distance herself from John Dou.

"Aren't you going to keep running?"

The [client] didn't even turn her head. She just dragged her injured leg forward, ignoring John Dou's questions; her fist scraped the wall.

John Dou lowered his gun slightly and quickened his pace:
I don’t know if it was an illusion, but [the client] seemed to have clenched his fist a little too tightly, and his entire right arm was as stiff as a rock.

click-
John Dou stepped on something with a crisp sound: it was a piece of brown-gray coarse pottery from the broken and scattered flower pots on the roof.

He didn't look down. Because at this distance, he finally noticed a long, pale, blue wooden board, stuck between the window panes, tightly stretched into an inverted arc; a thin line extended from one end, running along the wall straight to the [Client's] fist -
At the same time as hearing this sound, [Client] loosened his clenched fist:

sieve!
The azure rope left a shadow—a thin wire, flying out from her hand.
The long wooden board straightened in an instant.
-
call!
Before John Dou's eyes, a pale, moldy rectangle suddenly appeared. One end was stuck in the corner of the iron window pane, and the other end was dotted with cold light. It whistled through the air and hit him in the face.
Snapped!
John Dou caught the edge of the swung board and held it in his palm; he could now see that the end of the board was attached to a thin wire, which was clamped and fixed by the blade of the dagger driven into it.

This must be a bamboo pressboard, which is why it is so elastic and does not break: the corridor is full of these discarded decoration materials.

Previously, this long bamboo pressure plate was bent into an arc of almost 90 degrees by the corner of the iron window pane and the pull of the electric wire in the [customer's] hand; now it has finally straightened, releasing the kinetic energy converted from elastic potential energy.

It's like a primary school student bending a plastic ruler and tapping his deskmate's hand, only magnified many times, and even capable of killing someone:

The tactical dagger was thrust directly into the long bamboo strip, eliminating the need for rope or tape to secure it; only two-thirds of the blade was exposed through the strip—but that was more than enough to penetrate an eyeball.

Ding--
The narrow blade of the tactical dagger stopped right in front of John Dou's eyes, still trembling; his eyelashes seemed to touch the cold metal. He stared at the tip of the dagger, as if he was looking at the [client] from a distance:

"What's going on? Do you think we're filming 'Home Alone'?" John Dou said expressionlessly, tossing aside the long bamboo weight with the dagger embedded in it.
Da da da da da!
[The client] straightened her legs as her hands snapped onto the bamboo press and began to run again: her feet danced rapidly back and forth, and in a blink of an eye she was around the corner.

Simply by throwing away the bamboo pressure plate and resuming his shooting stance, [the client] once again left John Dou's shooting window.
-
[Tsk, after all this time, he's still faking an injury.]

The tens of seconds of time difference gained by landing first were not used to escape, but to set up a simple trap and then feign injury to lure:

This gambling-like action choice is completely contrary to the supporting role of sitting in the office.
But this choice was the right one: if we didn't find a way to stop John Dou's ability to move, there was no limit to how far [the client] could run. In this situation, only by eliminating the pursuers could we be safe.

Using broken flower pots to determine if John Dou had reached his target, walking with the help of a wall to conceal a makeshift pull mechanism, and using low visibility and the illusion of injury to conceal wires stuck in the wall and the awkward posture of pulling the wooden board.
If John Dou had just lowered his head to check the debris, or if he had raised his gun and aimed it at the [client] in fright, he would have fallen to the ground by now.

John Dou was willing to give her a high score for being able to design a feasible and threatening trap so quickly based on the materials on the scene.
Somehow, this recycling operation is becoming more and more like an instructor's assessment of the new employees' induction test.

However, this trap is not very sophisticated and is too idealistic. You also have to bet that John Dou will not shoot directly; only the clowns in the movies would die from this trap.
-
John Dou put down the pistol in his hand - this CZ-75 was his partner Richard's sidearm: a semi-automatic pistol from the Czechoslovak Arsenal.

He tucked his service pistol into his waistband and fastened it with his belt; judging by the current situation, he wouldn't need to carry his service pistol anymore.

Active, ingenious, and versatile; but immaturity overshadows these advantages.
【Let’s try a live one. 】

John Dou admitted that he had begun to appreciate his clients, but he no longer had any kind feelings. He wished his heart was made of iron, at least harder than his fists.

But there were indeed many quirks in this order, and the client's behavior further confirmed this—John Dou could no longer withstand the pressure. Now he needed more information to make a judgment; the cost of career choices in Asia-Europe Post was not simply a few days of annual leave and a promotion opportunity.

Richard has only been in the job for a short time, so he might not understand this yet. But John Dou knows it very well.

He raised his hand and hammered his jaw with the tip of his fist: a jaw that had been slightly activated by the impact was less likely to become dizzy. He had no sense of dignity: no matter the old, weak, or sick target, he would not hesitate to exercise caution; not to mention that the other party had also received training in the Special Package Handling Department.

John Dou doesn't like to keep live [customers] - but like the order he received this time, he is going to do something abnormal.

Ding!
There was the crisp ring of the elevator arriving and the sound of the sliding door being dragged.
-
John Dou was only about ten meters away from the [client], and there was only a corner to turn - as he had just said; this was not "Home Alone", he didn't think it would happen that the elevator door would close just in time and he wouldn't have time to open it.

John Dou started running: in front of him was a ninety-degree angled wall, and around the corner were stairs leading up and down the stairs and an elevator covered by a sliding door.

Corners and walls are not shelters, they are always just a cover.

ho.

John Dou grinned: his legs were still running fast, but his upper body suddenly bent forward -
call!
What greeted John Dou was not the back of the [client] fleeing into the elevator: it was the base of the fire extinguisher, long unused and covered in dirt and spider silk, suddenly protruding from the corner -
The dark red bottle swept over John Dou's head, and the scattered spider webs first stuck to his white and gray hair, and then exploded with the dancing air flow - if he didn't lower his head, the chrome-plated copper bottle would have hit John Dou's chin.

Boom!
The fire extinguisher hit the corner of the wall, leaving a shallow white hole.

The [customer] still had no intention of running away. Instead, he fought back by taking advantage of blind spots at the corners of the stairs and hard objects in the environment:
If it hits - John Dou's own weight, the inertia of running, and the correct impact position estimated based on height: even if the two people have a huge weight difference, John Dou can be easily knocked unconscious.

[What an academic. This is what office workers are like.]

(End of this chapter)