Law America, the Devil's Agent

Chapter 94 You want to kill me? Come at me! (8K update complete, making up for previous single updates)

But just as the flamingos were celebrating, Bunch picked up the walkie-talkie and said in a calm but cold voice: "All units, do not relax!"

We haven't succeeded yet! Keep shrinking the encirclement.

Don't give him any room to accelerate.

Car number four blocked the east exit, car number five blocked the west exit, and I drove up from the south.

As the distance between the cars gradually decreased, he only had one direction to go: the north side.

However, the barbed wire fence on the north side would greatly hinder his movements!

That path to survival is also our trap.

"Then the cunning loach will stop."

All three vehicles began to tighten simultaneously.

The gravel road surface screeched under their wheels, and in this forgotten ruin on the north side of the marshalling yard, only the roar of engines and the sound of gravel being crushed remained.

Punch's eyes, peering through the two bullet holes in the windshield, were fixed on the taillights of the black sports car ahead. It had nowhere else to go.

Link suddenly jerked the steering wheel.

Instead of fleeing towards the barbed wire fence to the north, they turned around directly, with the front of the car facing Punch's Suburban.

???

The two vehicles faced off for a moment on the gravel road, about a hundred meters apart, before Link stepped on the gas and sped straight toward Suburban.

Punch instinctively stepped on the brakes, and the car paused slightly on the gravel road.

The other two cars also stopped abruptly, looking completely bewildered.

They had no idea that a man surrounded by three vehicles would advance instead of retreat, heading straight for their bulletproof command vehicle.

Bunch's brain raced, and he made a judgment: FUCK! Is this guy fucking insane?

What are you planning? A fight to the death, a fight to the bitter end?

Just as the two cars were about to collide, Link swerved the steering wheel sharply to the left again, and the car grazed the right side panel of the Suburban as it hurtled past.

In the instant the two cars passed each other, he extended his left arm, aiming his gun not at the bulletproof glass, but at the passenger side of Suburban's car.

window.

The car windows were not bulletproof, and the glass shattered into hundreds of pieces that flew into the cockpit.

The bullet missed Bunch, but it hit the tracking screen he had placed on the passenger seat.

The screen shattered, sending fragments and sparks flying. A piece of plastic grazed Bangqi's right cheek, leaving a shallow bloodstain running from his cheekbone to his jaw.

At the same time, Subban's right front tire was punctured by something sharp. It wasn't Link who hit it; he didn't even have time to aim at the tire.

They are the rail joints that stick up from abandoned railway tracks on the gravel road.

When Bunch dodged Link's head-on collision, he instinctively turned the steering wheel half a turn to the right, and the right front wheel happened to run over a steel plate that was being lifted up by the scrap rails.

The tire was torn apart, the puncture-proof layer couldn't hold up, and the rim scraped against the gravel road, sending sparks flying!

The vehicle then lost its balance, slid sideways for several meters, and came to a stop crashing into a pile of discarded sleepers.

Link's eyes lit up!

This is exactly the effect he wanted! Using the terrain to his advantage, he tore open one of the breaches!

Just then, the other two cars were clumsily adjusting their direction, which slowed them down considerably.

He straightened the steering wheel, floored the accelerator, and crashed through the barbed wire gate on the north side of the marshalling yard. The front of the train pierced through the rusted wire mesh, and the train bounced a few times on the road before finally returning to the city road.

Cars number four and five caught up from both sides.

A dark blue Chevrolet Tahoe approached from the east, while a modified black Dodge Ram flanked from the west; the distance between the two vehicles was rapidly closing.

He had accelerated back to the optimal speed on the highway, but instead of immediately shaking off his pursuers, he waited.

The Dodge Ram's gunman leaned out of the passenger seat and opened fire on the sports car's rear wheels with a submachine gun.

But his marksmanship was really bad, far inferior to Bonch's!

Bullets struck the rear bumper and the gravel road, sending sparks flying. Several bullets hit the sports car's rear wing, leaving a few bullet holes.

The driver of the Chevrolet Tahoe stepped on the gas and approached from the side, reducing the distance between the two vehicles to just a few dozen feet.

The Dodge Ram's gunman leaned out of the car window to a more forward position and aimed his gun at the sports car's rear windshield.

Then he heard another engine sound.

It's not the engine of a sports car, nor the engine of a chasing vehicle; it's the engine of a heavy-duty off-road vehicle.

Two black modified SUVs emerged simultaneously from the dark alley ahead, like two flattened lightning bolts cutting into the gap between the Dodge Ram and the Chevrolet.

The reinforcements Link had been waiting for finally arrived.

The car windows rolled down at the same time, and several figures carrying submachine guns emerged from inside.

They didn't shout or fire warning shots; instead, violent tongues of fire spewed from the muzzles, and bullets rained down on the side panels of the Dodge Ram.

The right front tire was the first to be shot out, followed by the rear tire. The once arrogant pursuing car instantly lost its balance, drifting sideways for dozens of meters on the gravel road before overturning on the side of the road.

The driver of the Chevrolet Tahoe jerked the steering wheel and tried to turn around and escape, but another SUV from the South African gang had already blocked his way.

Two crossfires simultaneously struck the Chevrolet's hood and windshield. The driver and gunman rolled out of both doors, lying prone on the ground with their hands over their heads, their guns lying to the side.

Link parked the car on the side of the road, opened the car door, and walked onto the gravel road.

His suit jacket had a scorch mark on the left shoulder where a bullet had grazed him, and his face was covered in dust.

Mankla jumped out of the passenger seat of one of the SUVs, still holding a submachine gun, glanced at the scene, and shook his head.

"Who the hell is this old guy?"

Link followed his gaze to the Suburban that had crashed into the sleepers at the edge of the shunting yard.

Bunch had already pushed open the deformed car door and was lying on his back on the gravel road.

He was still holding his M1911 in his right hand, and his left arm was cut in several places by broken glass, with blood flowing down his arm.

He used his left hand to support himself on the sleeper, propping himself up from the gravel road, and slowly raised his gun to shoulder height, the muzzle protruding from between the wreckage of Saboban, pointing in Link's direction!

But he was out of bullets.

Link gestured towards Mankla.

Mankla handed over the submachine gun in his hand, and Link took the gun and walked towards Suboban.

He walked straight toward Bunch, stopped a few steps away from Suboban, raised his submachine gun, and aimed it at Bunch's chest.

Bonch leaned against the pile of sleepers, blood still seeping from the gash on his right cheek, his breathing heavy and disordered, but he held...

His hand holding the gun remained steady, his chest heaving violently, his eyes fixed on Link.

He didn't seem to be defeated.

"You're a good conductor," Link said.

Bunch didn't answer, he just kept breathing heavily.

"But you followed the wrong person. Goodbye."

He pulled the trigger.

A short volley of gunfire erupted.

Bunch's body slid down the pile of sleepers a little, and the M1911 slipped from his loosened fingers, bouncing twice on the gravel road.

Link handed the submachine gun back to Mankla and bent down to pick up the walkie-talkie that was still flashing its signal light from the ground.

He flipped it over to check the communication channel. The channel was still on, and the indicator light was flashing steadily.

A faint buzzing sound came from the walkie-talkie's speaker, and then a voice that was both strange and familiar spoke.

The voice was exceptionally clear in the empty shunting yard, carrying a hint of tipsy languor and anticipation, as if someone had just raised a glass, ready to celebrate a victory that had already been confirmed.

"Bonchi, is there good news?"

Link grinned dramatically, held the walkie-talkie to his mouth, and pressed the call button.

His voice was light and composed, as if he were receiving a call from an old friend he hadn't contacted in a long time.

Hey. What should I call you?

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the walkie-talkie.

"Huh? You don't recognize me? Oh, but I recognize you."

"This is Bangqi? Looks like he was about to call you to report. You're Bangqi's boss, right?"

He tilted his head slightly and continued into the walkie-talkie in a more nonchalant tone: "It's a pity he's dead. I killed him."

A grinding sound came from the other end of the walkie-talkie, followed by a deeper silence.

"Want to kill me? Come on, do it yourself."