Unbelievable

As United States. Ambassador to the UK Robert Woody Johnson stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows on the embassy's rooftop, watching a black sedan speed through the sandbags and barricades in front of the embassy, he couldn't help but think of that sunny afternoon in New York a few years ago.

That was at the New York Metropolitan Stadium United States, the home of the famous New York Jets, where he, as the team's owner, was watching his team play.

He still remembers Adams' fierce tackling in that game, his deep passing defense, and his constant movement across the field, just like that BMW that crashed into the embassy – fierce and fast.

It's still dark.

At that time, his good friend, Donald A Chuan, was sitting next to him.

They were best friends, like-minded people, since they were young, making money and having sex together. After they cheered for a great score, A Chuan put down his Diet Coke and said seriously, "Hey buddy, I'm running for president, can you help me?"

He still remembers A Chuan's expression at that time: serious, focused, with Flame burning in his eyes.

So Woody said, "Cool, bro, let's get started."

As a traditional supporter of the Republican Party, Woody had previously served as the finance director for A Bu's campaign team. Now, he endorses A Chuan and has launched a massive fundraising campaign for him.

He held a key position on the winning committee and was also a member of A Chuan's inauguration committee. Along with his other tycoon friends, he helped carry his lecherous, wicked, and greedy friend all the way to the White House.

A few months after A Chuan entered the White House, Woody, a key figure in Trump's rise to power, was nominated as the ambassador to the United Kingdom.

Don't get me wrong, this is not bribery or a transaction of money and power, but a legal act like political donations. It is a long-standing tradition in the United States for elected presidents to offer lucrative positions to major donors and key supporters. As for whether this behavior is a bit wrong, don't ask, just say it's about democracy and freedom.

So he went to London.

--As for how a billionaire with immense wealth ended up in the United Kingdom and became a diplomat, what kind of spirit did he possess? This remains unknown. Perhaps after A Chuan explained the proposal and decision to him, Mr. Woody recited a slogan: he wanted MAGA too.

All we know is that this ambassador was indeed working for the interests of the United States, for example, writing articles in newspapers urging the United Kingdom to embrace free trade and accept chlorinated chickens and hormone-treated beef from Amerikkka —perhaps Amerikkka ranchers tearfully begged him to help them sell their unsold chickens and cattle.

For example, he once suggested to the United Kingdom government that the venue for the United Kingdom Open Golf Championship be moved to the Turnberry Hotel in Scotland —a hotel with beautiful scenery and a pleasant environment, which was very suitable. The fact that the owner was Donald A Chuan was probably just a coincidence.

In short, his experience during his time in the United Kingdom was indeed happy and fulfilling. Watching these fallen nobles, clinging to their old pride, suffer in silence in the face of his anger, made this business tycoon feel incredibly satisfied. Life in Britain was indeed as A Chuan had promised: rich, colorful, elegant, leisurely, and absolutely safe—truly a top-notch lucrative job.

... What a load of bull!

"Sir! The defenses have been breached!"

The defensive line of U. S. Army 4-class two-legged multi-purpose combat animals responsible for guarding the embassy was breached by a single impact. These Marin were frantically wielding Christmas trees and blasting the car's rear end with impotent rage, while a thunderous roar reverberated throughout the entire building as the car crashed into the lobby.

"Fire! Fire!"

The guards raised their guns and fired, but as the smoke cleared, a dark figure leaped over and grabbed a Marun, throwing him against the wall, where he struck the giant government emblem on the stone wall.

With a loud thud, the poor fourth-class citizens fell to the ground from a height of at least three or four meters, struggling in pain. Meanwhile, the cold emblem sculpture symbolizing the United States government remained standing, with a bald eagle looking coldly to the side, its talons grasping an olive branch and an arrow respectively, symbolizing the power to decide peace and war.

But today, they are no longer the ones who decide war and peace.

Screams erupted, and piercing alarms blared throughout the embassy. The car that crashed in burst into Flame, billowing black smoke. The Marines rushed in fearlessly, but the hidden attackers had already revealed their sharp fangs. One Marine suddenly heard the whooshing sound of wind overhead, looked up, and saw a dark figure descending from the sky.

"Ian" stomped the Marine to the ground and struck him in the neck with a palm strike. The Marine next to him quickly raised his gun. He grabbed the barrel with his backhand, raised it, and the rifle opened fire in the hall. With his other hand, he fired fiercely, hitting the Marine in the thigh. Then he retaliated with a powerful elbow strike, hitting another Marine in the chest.

The immense force surged through the bulletproof panels, slamming the guy who was trying to grab Ian from behind into the transparent glass wall, causing him to collapse instantly.

Then, this "rebellious MI5" kicked the Marine who had been shot in the thigh unconscious, and grabbed the unconscious fourth-class soldiers who had been lying on the ground to shield them. The incident happened suddenly, and the slightly dense battle formation was no match for the superhuman who was fighting in close combat. The Marines were instinctively stunned when they saw the attacker carrying their comrade charging back.

Having enjoyed peace for so long, their military preparedness had become lax. These Marines had never even fought in counterinsurgency operations, let alone had the awareness to shoot down their comrades along with the enemy. The powerful assault rifles had become a burden. In an instant, the outcome was decided. With the mechanical exoskeleton activated, Ian swung his arm and hurled the Marine away.

Then, under cover, they charged forward like tigers and wolves.

Faced with this unprecedented enemy, the Marines were at a loss. Although during World War II, in order to deal with the Japanese bayonet charges, American Empire officers taught their soldiers their own close combat skills—namely, revolvers and shotguns—this enemy was far more formidable than the Japanese.

Can a deer and a wolf be compared?

"Ian" had already charged into the enemy ranks, punching and kicking, grabbing the Christmas tree gun butt and beating it mercilessly, knocking them down, breaking their arms and legs. The desperate gunfire could not save these guards.

The last soldier triggered the execution animation, was grabbed and thrown directly into the embassy's crescent-shaped moat, flailing his arms and legs and screaming all the way, making a loud bang.

"Done."

Ian glanced at the staggering Marines, reached out and grabbed an M2 Ma Deuce that was propped up in front of the door, then, carrying a long chain of ammunition, charged back to the embassy in a very Rambo- like manner.

"Weld the door shut."

Black flames appeared on Ian's left hand. "No one's getting off today."

He circled around, closed the doors, smashed the elevator, Ian ran at top speed, stepping into the embassy's trendy, futuristic glass staircase.

"Everyone lie down on the ground! Don't move! I have no intention of hurting you. I am being persecuted by the Britain government. I want to expose the truth to the world. I will fight to the death for my family!"

"I am Ian Crook! Remember me!"

The rousing voice reverberated through every floor as Ian, with superhuman speed and stamina, grabbed a heavy machine gun and sprinted upwards. It was a fucking cool modern fairy tale.

"Wow, that's a really nice renovation."

Kang De did not go inside, but instead witnessed everything around him through the camera feedback from his Iron Son.

Each floor of the building has a garden, symbolizing different geographical features of the United States. Cacti from the Arizona Canyon region, redwoods and steel beams from the Pacific Ocean Forest region, tall grasses and various wildflowers are typical plants shared by the United Kingdom and the United States. Sun sails on the walls adjust the intensity of the sunlight, making the light inside the building warm and comfortable.

It is said that this building can operate on its own even during long-term power outages, solely thanks to the solar panels on its surface—aside from its overly trendy aesthetic, this place is quite impressive.

"Very good, very good."

As Kang De looked around, he instructed, "Be careful not to damage my house."

Horus, while guiding Ian along the twisting corridor, said, "How did this become your house? What are your thoughts on this?"

Kang De smiled. "Of course, a bold idea—but now, let's find the ambassador."

"Emergency! Emergency!"

The security department was furious. This was an unprecedented incident. The intruders had not brought bombs, but terrifying warriors with astonishing combat power. They had even wiped out the Marine Corps guards here single-handedly and were heading straight for the top floor!

They appealed to the United Kingdom authorities for help. "His target is likely the ambassador! We are recruiting volunteers to intercept him! But the outcome won't be good! We need your help! Now!"

The wealthy ambassador, already hiding under his desk, cried out, his face pale, "Quickly, fetch the SAS!"

--The United Kingdom have gone completely mad!

David was experiencing true despair. His phone kept ringing, and calls from various London departments to Military Intelligence Section 5 came one after another. The director's expression was as gloomy as a rainy day, and this agent who had served the government since the Cold War was at his wit's end.

He never imagined things would turn out this way.

First, there was an unexpected event, followed by an even bigger one: the student who was to be sacrificed and scapegoated in the plan suddenly awakened superhuman powers, and with boundless rage, displayed astonishing combat prowess and operational capabilities, placing the great nation of England in an extremely dangerous situation.

The cliff is right below us.

There was no longer any frantic roaring or out-of-control shouting on the Prime Minister's phone.

The golden retriever's anger had completely transformed into hysterical calm.

"Negotiation!"

This is an order from the highest authority.

"Negotiation with him! We must not allow anything bad to happen!"

David's palms were very, very cold with cold sweat.

He knew why— Ian had taken the most crucial step.

That despicable traitor wanted to expose the secrets of the Round Table and the Superhumans to the world, so he made a big fuss by kidnapping people from a landmark building, forcing the government to back down, and getting the media to relay his voice—frankly, this tactic wasn't insurmountable.

If you're ruthless enough and willing to pay enough "additional damage," then it's fine.

David was trying his best to avoid becoming the scapegoat and person responsible for the "collateral damage," which was one of the reasons he persuaded the Prime Minister to invite the Round Table intervention.

--He also had a tacit agreement with the Round Table.

But now, these concerns are no longer necessary.

Because Ian chose a location where he could not tolerate any "collateral damage" as the stage.

United States. Embassy.

That place is theoretically Amerikkka territory, with over eight hundred employees and no fewer than that number of daily visitors... more than a thousand, mostly United States.

And the United States ambassador.

When the news was confirmed, the entire United Kingdom political scene was shaken.

They couldn't imagine the horrific consequences of Ian going on a killing spree inside the United States embassy with a heavy machine gun, especially since this damned terrorist was a former MI5 employee, driven to desperation by the bureaucratic system's ingrained rules of shifting blame and shirking responsibility...

Normally, if something like this happens and it gets out of control, we just blame it on Russia and that's it.

But the United Kingdom no longer have the guts to shift the blame for this.

"Surround the embassy! Disrupt all internet signals in this area! All counterterrorism units, stand by and occupy high ground, but no attack of any kind is permitted unless ordered directly by Downing Street!"

Congress convened an emergency meeting; the roar of the golden retriever echoed from 10 Downing Street; Military Intelligence Section 5 was shrouded in continuous rain; MI6 was working while suppressing laughter; a storm was brewing throughout the Nine Elms.

Five minutes later, the phone rang at Military Intelligence Section 5, and the caller ID showed it was the United States. Embassy.

David closed his eyes helplessly.

"Ian," he muttered, "Damn it, Ian."

The situation was now beyond his control as deputy director, but he had no choice but to answer the call. The call was simultaneously transferred to various departments. The most destructive terrorist in London's history had completed his initial crimes and was about to carry out his extortion, blackmail, and coercion.

But... we can only negotiate.

A moment later, under everyone's gaze, David answered the phone, "... hello."

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

The screams startled the Prime Minister, the intelligence service, the Home Secretary, and the commanders of all branches of the armed forces. United Kingdom's most powerful men covered their faces and clenched their fists.

That voice belonged to the United States. ambassador, the wealthy owner of that Football team.

"Mother Zefak! David! Can you hear me? England! Can you hear me?!"

Ian's voice rang out, filled with resentment and glee. "You incompetent fools, little beachheads who follow the Amerikkka and scaveng for scraps! You have betrayed the glory of Britain for your own gain! You have disgraced this great nation! And now? Are you ready to face the wrath of your master?"

"Calm down, calm down."

Under the chief's cold gaze, David had no choice but to plead, "I apologize for what I did to you before, Ian. It's all my fault. My selfishness and greed led to this situation, and I'm willing to pay any price for it, even my life—I only ask that you don't question your country because of this. I'm the only one who made a mistake; England is innocent..."

He said softly, "Don't be so impulsive, okay? There will be no winners if we do this; everyone will suffer heavy losses. We have a better way to solve this problem..."

"Yes, David, you've always been such a smooth talker. The once-brave agent has become a shameful bureaucrat, a liar. You said you had a better solution, but what awaited me was an agent's shooting. How can I believe your lies again? No, not anymore!"

He roared, "I already see my end! Even if I reach a so-called consensus with you and surrender, I will still face your reckoning and punishment in the near future, and my family will not be spared either. Rather than die like this, I'd rather die with more honor!"

This is not an honor at all!

"No! This is!" Ian roared with laughter, "A death remembered by the whole world is, of course, an honor!"

He laughed so hard it was almost hoarse, then his voice instantly turned calm. He said grimly, "Right now, the muzzle of an M2 heavy machine gun is just five centimeters from the ambassador's head. His head could be turned into a pile of mangled flesh at any moment, and this building will be engulfed in Flame."

"Night is about to fall, David, and all you gentlemen listening to this conversation, if you don't want all of London to see the great torch burning fiercely in the night, and if you don't want these thousand-plus people to become fuel for the torch, then agree to my terms."

"The BCC, the Sun, the Mirror, the Daily Mail... all national media outlets. I want their reporters to enter the embassy, interview me, and broadcast the interviews to the world. Agree to this condition, and no one will be hurt again."

David took a deep breath. "What do you want to say to the whole world?"

"Expose what you've been hiding, tell the world the truth—tell the entire United Kingdom public what you've done! To cover up your mistakes, you've gone to great lengths to prevent the dead from ever seeing the light of day, and now you want me to bear the responsibility for this accident! Not only that, you even dared to harm my family!"

Ian Crook roared, "I'll make you pay!"

Those who were entitled to hear this conversation were filled with rage, but... fear also spread.

We can't let him do that!

Humanity is not ready!

"Stop him!"

"But the ambassador is in his hands!"

"If he kills the hostages, how should we handle and respond to this upheaval that will surely shock the world? How can we gain the understanding and forgiveness of our allies? Don't forget how greedy, shrewd, and vain that guy across the Atlantic Ocean is! How much will we have to give to satisfy him?"

"That's still better than agreeing to his conditions!"

"We must make a decision immediately! Otherwise, this matter will truly become unmanageable!"

The noisy discussions make it difficult to reach a consensus—no, there is still a consensus.

That means stalling him until we come up with a solution or countermeasure.

"Don't try to stall me. Don't forget I came from MI5, and I've personally experienced more than one negotiation operation! I know how you do it!"

Ian said coldly, "I'll give you five minutes. I want the results in five minutes—don't push me, or I'll have to kill someone every now and then!"

"--Wait a minute!"

Just then, a voice that didn't belong to David came through the receiver.

"Mr. Crook, it's me." The Prime Minister's calm voice rang out. "Gentlemen of the intelligence services, ensure that the following conversation is heard only by officers at the highest security level. Clear the area now."

After a few moments of silence, another voice rang out. "Clearance complete, sir."

"Ian, Ian, I understand your anger, and I hate those damn bureaucrats too, but this isn't the best outcome. You're innocent, you have a bright future, a beautiful wife, and a lovely daughter. You shouldn't die like this, things shouldn't end like this... We can talk."

"There's nothing to talk about, sir. I don't trust you."

"No, you can believe me." The Prime Minister paused for a moment, then said, "I understand your concerns. You're worried that after we reach an agreement, we might target you and your family again—in other words, if we address this concern, could you talk to us properly?"

Ian hesitated for a moment. "Hmm?"

The Prime Minister remained silent for a moment, then said calmly, "There is a way—one that will allow you to live without worrying about our retaliation—and that's enough to make you abandon your current radical plans."

What road?

The golden retriever took a deep breath. "You can... join the Round Table."

A series of gasps of astonishment came through the phone. David exclaimed, "Mr. Prime Minister, this..."

"Shut up, you piece of trash!!" the Prime Minister roared. "You are dismissed from your post immediately, arrested, and put on trial— Ian, I will make this old bastard pay."

Ian didn't speak.

"Think about it, Ian. You know who they are, you know their privileges and power. You become like them, so you can enjoy everything they have—do you want to plunge England into an abyss of no return, and die a painful death with your wife and daughters under our fierce retaliation, or do you want everyone to live in peace, and you and your wife and daughters to continue living happily ever after?"

These words clearly struck a nerve with Ian. He remained silent for a long time before finally saying, "How can I trust you? How can I believe that you and the Round Table won't collude?"

The Prime Minister exclaimed, "Come on, Ian, you're a superhuman. You should know how valuable you are. If you didn't completely distrust us, I would even want to recruit you to work for us... Don't underestimate your worth, Ian. You and your family deserve a better life."

Silence, a long silence.

Then, Ian said silently, "I don't trust you—I want to talk to the people at the Round Table."

The Prime Minister visibly relaxed. "No problem, Ian, absolutely no problem, we'll be back soon."

Communications were cut off. At 10 Downing Street, the golden retriever rubbed his messy mane, his expression turning grim. The minister beside him hesitated. "My lord, are we really going to push this terrorist to the Round Table?"

"Of course not," the golden retriever said menacingly, "--We're going to kill him."

"But..." the minister said in a low voice, "We cannot send our own superhumans, we don't have absolute certainty with special forces, and the Round Table probably won't cooperate so readily..."

"Then hire someone who is absolutely capable of killing him!"

The golden retriever's eyes blazed with fury. "Get me AWSL Company!"

￥￥￥￥￥￥￥￥￥￥

PS1: Update... There are an unusually large number of sensitive words today, and it took a long time to adjust. Also, damn it, the Nevada vote counting is slower than I am writing this. Fast forward to the United States Civil War!