Big Bob, Little Bob

Daniel Monet had a very, very long dream.

He dreamt of his hometown, Annecy, a small town in the Haute-Savoie, where the beautiful Palais de l'Île Castle sits between canals, the terraces between the canals are filled with the fragrance of flowers, and the air is filled with cool moisture. It is humid, warm, and comfortable there, far better than Comora, that dry, hot, and desolate hellhole.

He dreamt of returning to his hometown, and he missed everything about it.

"Wake up!"

Such a call echoed from the meandering river and gentle breeze of my hometown.

He was enjoying the gentle breeze of his hometown when he felt someone pat his head and heard English voices calling to wake him up.

No, I don't want to wake up...

I need you to wake up!

Half-asleep, he vaguely saw someone moving in front of him, and then heard the sound of blades cutting through the air.

A sharp pain pierced his thigh, forcibly pulling him back to reality from his dream. Daniel Monet stared blankly at the dagger in his thigh, then twisted his grip on it tightly.

"Aaaaaaaaahhhhhh!"

The intense pain, the disorientation after waking from unconsciousness, the brief moment of confusion—he hadn't yet recalled why he was sitting there, why he was tied to the chair. He subconsciously looked up, wanting to see who the murderer was, but instead saw a scene reflected in the candlelight in the pitch black.

The color drained from his face, Daniel's eyes froze, and then, an unprecedented fear, accompanied by tears and snot, burst forth, causing him to let out a desperate scream.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

His comrades, mercenary subordinates, and friends were all here, watching him, but only heads remained. Heads were placed on chairs, tables, and even hanging from ceiling fans. The room was full of blood, and the eyes of the dead still held lingering despair and fear.

Amidst this hellish and horrific nightmare, sits a calm-looking, neatly dressed China man, holding a cell phone which is propped up on a stand on a nearby table.

"Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?! Why are you doing this?! Oh my god! Help! Help!"

Daniel let out a series of cries.

He finally remembered what had happened: a loud noise, then darkness, and someone had stormed into their stronghold. The battle had begun and ended quickly.

He was knocked unconscious, and when he woke up, he was sitting here, bound, surrounded by blood and gore like hell.

Sitting opposite me was a young man with clean and tidy clothes and a calm and friendly expression.

"Oh dear," he said, "I thought all you mercenaries were tough guys."

A French translation came through the phone.

Perhaps the translation coming through the phone offered the France some solace; at least the other party was a human being communicating using modern electronic devices and a language interpreter, not some bloodthirsty, powerful demon. The France cried out, "Why did you do this! What do you want! Who are you?!"

"Why do you do this? I was going to say—do I need a reason to kill you?"

But let me explain it to you anyway.

"I was at the door, knocking, and your companion told me to get out. I took off my scarf and told him I was China, that I was there for a group of kidnapped China people, and asked where they were. Then they were about to shoot."

"The suspicion was established almost immediately, right?"

"Then he died."

"You all had guns, you kidnapped my compatriots and relatives, you committed hostile acts, so I killed you all. That logic shouldn't be flawed, right?"

"Especially your army, which invades a sovereign nation and even kidnaps China citizens, I think the term 'terrorists' is more fitting than 'mercenaries.' Similarly, the Geneva Conventions probably don't apply to you, do they? So, do you know what happens when you mess with the China?"

The China speaker spoke calmly, as did the translator, but their calmness was excessive, especially given the stark contrast between the scene and the blood and severed heads, which only amplified the horror.

"Daniel Monet from Annecy, Haute-Savoie Annecy, France, I know who you are. Your subordinates have identified you, including your name. You're their leader, the person in charge here."

"They don't know much more, so they've left it here. You'd better make sure you know enough, because I'm in a bit of a hurry."

The phone was playing French Daniel could understand.

Aggressive.

Kang De took out his phone and held it up to the other person.

The photo album shared by his father, the pictures of people he had picked out, the company members, one after another, flashed before Daniel's eyes.

I came for these China people.

"I traveled all the way from China to here for only one reason: you kidnapped my father."

"I came from Seligal to Comora, from my father's post to the army camp in Gambia, and then here. I can't remember how many people I've killed, and I don't care. I only know that if it helps me achieve my goal, I wouldn't mind killing another hundred, two hundred, or three hundred."

"Now answer my question, or you can be a tough guy for once. In fact, I'd prefer you to be a man of steel, resolute and unyielding, refusing to confess."

"Then I can destroy you, destroy everything about you, and make you talk."

"Break down a tough guy, make him completely collapse, then the facts he confesses will inevitably be complete and infallible, while the testimony of someone who actively confesses from the beginning may be questionable."

"Is this line of thinking okay?"

He leaned forward, looking directly into the other person's eyes.

"Say."

He said calmly, "Let me see if you're lying, if you're hiding anything."

The expressionless face, combined with the surrounding heads, blood, and horror, was truly terrifying. When had any earthling ever seen such a scene?

Daniel's defenses crumbled from the start, and now he was utterly devoid of courage. His trousers were soaked with sweat, and he didn't even dare to utter nonsense like "Don't kill me."

"... tomb!"

He cried out, his voice trembling with sobs, "The China have been sent to the King's Tomb north of Moyani!"

"A tomb?" Kang De said coldly, "What are we doing bringing the China there?"

"I don't know! I really don't know! I only know they were digging something there! Originally, they were going to detain all the China people here, but something went wrong, and they needed the help of the China, so they brought them all there! I don't know the specifics! I really don't know!"

Kang De recalled the stockpiled building materials and industrial explosives in the military camp.

His father was involved; he followed in his father's footsteps and became a civil engineer. He majored in this field in college and was also influenced and taught by his father. He recognized at a glance that those building materials and explosives were for excavation.

He asked, "You fought for Gambia and stormed into Comora to excavate that king's tomb?"

Daniel cried out in anguish, "I don't know! I was just following orders. I don't know anything about this, I swear I really don't know! Please, believe me, you must believe me!"

Kang De pulled out a map. "... location."

Daniel, weeping, gestured that this place was actually a tourist attraction, even marked on Google Maps. He thought for a moment, then asked, "Which company are you mercenaries from? Who is your boss?"

When this issue was brought up, a hint of hesitation and fear flashed across Daniel's face.

Kang De glanced at him.

With just one glance, he weighed the pros and cons and immediately betrayed his boss. "Little Bob! Our boss is Little Bob!"

On the phone, Kirov, who had been silent until now, exclaimed in surprise, "Bob Buruo! It's him!"

Kang De raised an eyebrow. "A celebrity?"

"More than just a celebrity, he's the king of mercenaries, having successfully orchestrated coups in over ten countries. He's the black glove, unrecognized by the Fr*nce governments, and has assassinated several kings and presidents!"

Kirov paused for a moment, then continued, "Of course, this is Big Bob, who's retired. He's talking about Little Bob, Big Bob's son. But the problem is, even though Big Bob has retired, he's still the de facto behind-the-scenes controller of Comora —in Chinese words, the retired emperor..."

The Russians clearly couldn't understand this move. "They're actually invading the Comora as an army hired by Gambia, no wonder they've been winning all the way. Are they fighting themselves?"

Arms dealers have witnessed many farces and maneuvers involving regime changes—the foolish, the shrewd, the perfect, the regrettable... and many more.

He pondered, "Could it be that this king is disobedient? And what's in the tomb?"

"Whether it is or isn't, and what the reasons are, will soon be clear."

Kang De said, "If you're interested, could you help me find out what the pretext and reason King Gambia used to start the war were, and also help me investigate the background of this King Comora's tomb?"

"OK."

They have already found out the whereabouts of their father and the others, and they also know who the real culprit is. This interrogation has been a complete success.

Kang De was satisfied. He stood up and picked up his phone.

"And by the way, could you also check where Big Bob is right now?"

"Big Bob is probably not in Africa now; he's been retired for a long time," Kirov said, puzzled. "It's Little Bob who's doing things in Africa. Why are you investigating his father?"

Kang De asked calmly, "What do you think?"

Kirov fell silent.

Kang De hung up the phone immediately and smiled at Daniel.

A few minutes later, he left the three-story building, leaving the body still lying in front of the iron gate.

The night was deep and dark, with no sign of human life. If Comoros develops in the Comora, this place will become a famous haunted house, or the origin of some urban legend, or perhaps the inspiration for horror games.

The Humvee roared and set off again.

"Things will be alright once we rescue Father."

Kang De leaned back in his seat, letting the car bounce around as the night scenery rushed past on either side. He squinted and murmured, "It will be alright..."

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PS1: Second update! 8,000 words today! Please vote!

PS2: Goodnight, goodnight, going to sleep now. Ah, the Thigh Workshop still won't unlock for another two weeks...