"Hey, buddy." The mercenary walked up to the car and tapped the badly deformed hood with his gun barrel. "Can you get out on your own? Uh, don't get me wrong, I mean, do you need emergency medical services..."
He frowned, took a few steps back, spread his hands at the vehicle, and continued, "Judging by the state of these cars, it looks like you went through one hell of a fight."
No one answered him, nor did any doors open.
The entire convoy sat there quietly, without the slightest movement.
"Something's wrong. This is way too wrong..." Whispers rose from the crowd.
"Can you sense the meme aura inside the cars?"
"I can... but it's strange..."
"Could it be..."
"Shh, don't talk nonsense!"
"I'm seriously starting to wonder whether the thing driving is even human... Damn it, can someone rip off whatever's blocking the windshield?"
"If they were aberrations, they should've driven straight into us just now, right? Even if Simmons didn't die, he'd at least have broken a few bones... But they listened to Simmons and stopped obediently."
"Hey, Simmons, go take a look!" a hunter urged.
"I'm not going!" Simmons was the mercenary who had stepped out to stop the cars earlier. He shook his head. "There's definitely something wrong with this convoy!"
"Aren't you supposed to be known for having balls? Why are you chickening out now?" another mercenary with a full beard mocked.
"Big Beard, shut the fuck up. I've got guts, but I'm not stupid." Simmons spat on the ground. "What the fuck do you know? This isn't cowardice. This is caution!"
"How about this, Simmons? I'll put up a thousand." The hunter who had first egged him on spoke again. "Go pull open that car door, and the thousand is yours."
"A thousand?