The Interlude: Is My Future Still a Dream?
November 20, 2032.
Lieyang Fort, the governing district under the jurisdiction of Julian's capital in District 54
FDH102 Intercity Expressway Temporary Checkpoint
A large truck sped past, ignoring the militiamen at the traffic safety checkpoint.
It sped recklessly on the highway, maintaining a speed of 130 kilometers per hour as it passed the speed camera, and nearly crashed into the militiamen at the checkpoint.
"A Hino truck with a fake license plate was speeding on FDH102."
The Four Eyes sat in the passenger seat checking the license plate information on his laptop. He had excellent dynamic vision and locked onto the license plate number the instant the truck passed the speed camera.
"Headquarters headquarters headquarters headquarters headquarters calling headquarters, requesting the use of lethal force."
Banner gripped the radio tightly, his expression excited and impatient. Clark had already stepped on the gas, ready to launch. Unsurprisingly, the duo had been transferred to the traffic safety management department, given a sinecure, and marginalized. They were eager to prove themselves and get back into the fray.
"Huh? We can't fire? Why?" Banner's Bluetooth headset transmitted the command from the dispatch center.
Clark, with his fiery temper, had no intention of paying any attention to the office clerk. He ripped off the four-eyed man's headphones, grabbed the radio, and started yelling.
"The signal is bad! I'm offline!"
He shifted gears and started the car, a roaring vibration emanating from the hood of the Hummer.
Banner: "Boss! You won't get promoted if you keep doing this!"
Clark: "To hell with the promotion!"
They followed closely behind the Hino truck, turned on their police lights and sirens, and honked to signal the truck in front to pull over for inspection, but received no response.
Clark simply opened the side window and ordered Four-Eyes to use a loudspeaker to issue a warning.
"That bastard tried to force his way through the checkpoint with such a huge cargo box. There must be a lot of contraband on the vehicle, no matter whose it is! We have to stop him! Banner, get ready! I'm going to 'Pit' him!"
Banner, his face covered in cold sweat, exclaimed, "130 km/h? Pit!? Are you out of your mind?"
Clark pointed angrily at the cargo rack of the car in front of him and said, "What if it's carrying drugs? How many people would die because of this? Escape? Let's see where he runs to!"
Banner leaned out of the car window and felt the strong wind from the highway rushing into his mouth. He was extremely nervous; if an accident happened, even Universal Elixir might not be able to save their lives.
"This is the first time a large truck has run a checkpoint in Lieyang Fort. Before, only low-level members of the Bug Eye Gang dared to do this. They were driving drunk or under the influence, carrying criminal records, afraid of being arrested, imprisoned, or executed, so they resorted to violent resistance," Clark warned. "If this truck driver were a law-abiding citizen, why would he run?! I can understand them taking risks by water, since the militia can't catch them. But now they dare to do this by land?! I'm not having it! This is like shitting on my face!"
After three rounds of loudspeaker announcements went unanswered, Clark put on Code 99 (highest level emergency) on the police radio. He fired a warning shot at the car in front of him, completing all the procedures and preparing to use force against force.
The Hummer's front end is equipped with armored steel beams, a specially designed impact device for pit stops.
Once they reached a relatively open six-lane road, Clark didn't hesitate to floor the accelerator and surge ahead!
The engine let out a deep breath, paused for a second or two, and then the pressure from the turbocharger was suddenly transmitted to the wheel axle. The sudden push-back feeling pressed Si Yan hard back into the seat.
The crash beam collided with the left rear wheel of the Hummer. The speed difference between the two wheels immediately caused the road's king of vehicles to tilt and slide. The tires kicked up strips of rubber fibers, leaving black marks on the road. Strands of acrid rubber fragments shot out like sharp arrows, hitting the Hummer's windshield and creating shocking cracks.
Clark felt as if his body was being shaken apart by the vehicle. All four wheels of the Hino truck burst open, the steel wheels scraping against the road and creating brilliant sparks.
The two brothers cheered and trash-talked.
Banner: "It's working well! It's about to stop!"
Clark: "The road administration is going to give me trouble again. Last time I broke two streetlights, and they all want me to write a report."
Before he could finish speaking, a black gun barrel emerged from the side door of the Hino truck.
"Holy crap! Guns! Guns! Guns! Clark! Guns! Fully automatic!" Banner exclaimed repeatedly. This kind of warning had become instinctive; he had witnessed many armed thugs suddenly attacking in Lieyang Fort.
In the blink of an eye, the two brothers quickly pulled the seat adjustment handle, leaning back.
At least three rifles fired more than seventy bullets at the Hummer, shattering its windshield and hitting the back seats, scattering glass shards and leather and cotton lint from inside the vehicle.
Clark was practically lying on his back in his seat, bracing his knees against the steering wheel. The sudden burst of gunfire nearly made him wet himself. As the car in front of him slowed down, it began to roll sideways due to its immense inertia, and the thugs inside lost their ability to resist.
The Hino truck was completely blocking the middle of the road, its front end crashing into a mound of dirt beside the highway. The driver estimated that the truck was likely in grave danger. The cargo box scraped along the road and drifted more than 100 meters with the truck before finally coming to a stop. The metal of the cargo box was slightly red and scorching hot.
With the gunshots silenced, Clark pulled Four-Eyes to sit up, and the two of them simultaneously pointed their guns at the distant truck, both looking visibly shaken.
Banner, his head covered in shards of glass, yelled, "Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit! Don't militia vehicles have bulletproof glass?"
Clark, his face also covered in scratches, explained the militia's vehicle configuration to his brother, "Bulletproof glass is too heavy, the car can't go fast. Ordinary windshields are also convenient for shooting from inside the vehicle."
"Go down?" Banner asked. "Should I go first, or you go first?"
Clark: "You call K9 (the bomb and drug detection unit with police dogs), then keep an eye on me, stay close, open the car door as cover, I'll slowly walk over, you open the car door and block my way, use the A-pillar to block the enemy's line of fire, and drive slowly towards it!"
With that, Clark got out of the car and walked, while Four-Eyes switched to the driver's seat. The two worked in perfect harmony and drove toward Hino's truck.
Clark hid behind the Hummer's door, and only when he got closer did he realize that most of the enemy was already dead.
On both sides of the road were thugs who had been thrown out of the cargo boxes of large trucks. They were not properly secured inside the cargo boxes, and when the trucks tilted, they still had to hold onto their rifles to fight back. They were thrown out of the vehicles without any protection and just fell onto the road.
Clark approached one of the enemies, crouched down to check, and found that the thug was already dead. After confirming that there were no explosives on him, he ordered Four-Eyes to continue advancing into the truck.
This experienced soldier from the regiment shouted loudly.
"Put down your gun! Put down your gun! Put down your gun! Put down your gun! Put down your gun!"
He kept shouting until his throat was hoarse, still demanding that the criminals cooperate with the investigation and surrender.
He didn't take the thugs' weapons; the serial numbers on the rifles had been erased, suggesting they had been modified for automation, and after being dropped like that, they were unreliable. He figured he'd be better off using his small pistol to fight the enemy.
The closer they got to the truck, the more bloodstains appeared on the road, and the more living people there were.
With about twelve meters to go, Clark found two barely alive armed thugs with hyena tattoos on their bodies. They were henchmen of the Bug Eye Gang, an outsourced unit of the White Shark Association.
"Help me! Help me, help me!" The bandit who had fallen out of the carriage door on the right side was still shouting for help with a strong voice.
Clark looked closely, but still didn't dare to go forward.
The bandit, having lost both legs, clung tightly to his rifle, refusing to let go. His nerves had been stimulated, putting him in a state of stress and defensiveness; he felt insecure and was struggling desperately.
Clark aimed his gun and shouted, "Put down your gun!"
The bandit lost his mind. "Help me! Help me! I'll give you any amount of money you want! Help me! Help me!"
Clark raised his gun again and warned, "Put down your gun! Put it down!"
On the other side of the truck, near the roadside mound, lay a mute, dying bandit. Though on the verge of death, he still tried to fire back.
At this point, Clark finally showed no mercy; he had to follow the Six Arts taught by his gunsmith teacher.
The bullets spewed from the muzzle of the pistol, a light burst of fire, a pull-back to position, and two blobs of blood and gore appeared.
Clark's eyes were bloodshot with rage. He pursed his lips and gritted his teeth, a deep sense of terror gripping his heart. If he had been even a fraction slower, he and Four-Eyes might have perished here.
A few meters further down the mound, the Hummer's front wheels plunged into the drainage ditch, touching the cargo container door. Four-Eyes followed Clark out of the car to search the area. The two brothers supported each other, one on the left, one on the right, one in front, and one behind, to find the driver's seat in the front of the vehicle.
The truck's cab was completely twisted and deformed; the driver was already dead, and there was a rocket launcher in the passenger seat—this level of weaponry sent a chill down Clark's spine; the contents of the cargo box must be of utmost importance.
The two dared not be careless; they could hear heavy breathing coming from inside the box, suggesting that there were still enemies hiding inside.
They stepped onto the soft mound of earth, climbed onto the container, and hesitated for a moment to approach the side door that had overturned and was now upside down.
Clark gestured to Four-Eyes, who immediately understood, removed the high-powered flashlight from the pistol, and threw it in.
The bright light caused an immediate reaction inside the carriage, and voices could be heard coming from inside.
Clark continued issuing warnings, "Put down your guns! Surrender! Get down! Get down! Get down! Kneel down!"
The only response he received was gunfire; the enemy, following the sound, opened fire on the fragile metal of the train carriage!
A continuous barrage of rifle bullets exploded with deafening roars. Clark had deliberately positioned himself at the front of the vehicle, with only a narrow firing angle, but his calf was still shot, and blood flowed profusely.
He hopped and skipped nimbly off the mound of earth, without crying out in pain, for fear that the enemy would hear him and embolden them. If they dared to peek out from the carriage again, Four-Eyes would be shot dead!
He clenched his fist, exchanged gestures with Four-Eyes, and tossed a polishing pen and a small tungsten carbide drill bit from his tool bag.
Four-Eyes immediately got to work after receiving the tools, took out the chest protector, and glanced at his leader—who had already opened the first-aid kit, cut open his trouser leg to remove the bullet and save himself. He finally breathed a sigh of relief.
At this moment, Banner used both his hands and feet, stepping on the mound of dirt to brace himself against the overturned wagon, banging on it and leaving a clattering sound on the other side. The enemy inside the wagon immediately turned their fire in that direction.
There were also dizzy, blood-covered thugs who tried to peek out from behind the box to observe the situation. Clark, with a knife in one hand and a gun in the other, finished off the lookout.
Four-Eyes replaced the chuck of his electric drill with a tungsten carbide drill and quickly punched a small hole about fifteen millimeters in diameter in the soft sheet metal. Through this small observation window, he could see the personnel inside the vehicle—there were still four thugs alive.
After exchanging information with Clark using sign language, the Four Eyes fired his gun through the observation window, finally ending the terrifying firefight. He emptied two magazines, making sure that all the bullets had hit everyone, no more, no less, each person had taken exactly eleven bullets. Hearing the dripping blood, his wildly beating heart finally began to calm down.
There were bloodstains and bullet holes all around the mound of earth. Clark, having healed his leg, moved closer to Four-Eyes.
"The area is silent? Completely silent?"
The bespectacled man hesitated, unsure. "I don't know, boss."
Clark shoved the new magazine into Four-Eyes's hand. "If only we had a flashbang, none of this would have happened!"
Four-Eyes took the magazine and remained in combat stance, his emotions on the verge of collapse. He plopped down on a mound of earth, and his hands and feet began to tremble uncontrollably.
He was too close to death; the sudden shootings and the continuous, intense stimulation caused his taut nerves to break down.
The effects of the adrenaline were wearing off, and his voice was trembling with tears. He was just a kid who had just turned twenty, and he didn't have the same strong nerves as the nameless man.
He covered his face, still feeling incredulous.
"Why, Clark? Why! Why?"
"Why! You clearly stated that they can live as long as they put down their guns! They can live as long as they put down their guns! Clark! Clark."
Banner was panting heavily, still clutching the bulletproof plate in his hand. He had used it to protect his head and chest while they were drilling holes for observation windows. None of them had helmets; traffic safety posts weren't high-intensity riot control units and weren't issued helmets.
Clark crouched behind Banner, examining his partner's body.
The Four Eyes asked nervously, "Was I shot? Boss? Was I shot?"
"No, no. You're fine." Clark frowned and tried to hold Banner down.
Banner lost control of his emotions. He dropped the face shield, took off his glasses, and tried to wipe away his tears, but accidentally used the wrong hand—
Clark reacted quickly and snatched Banner's gun.
In a split second, the gun nearly went off and blew the kid's head off.
Banner tensed with fear. Clark pulled the safety on the M92FS, only to realize that his finger was still inside the trigger guard as he tried to wipe his face with his gun. "Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!!!"
Clark gripped the hammer and safety mechanism, ejecting the magazine and bullets. He also looked shaken.
"You're too nervous, Banner, you're too nervous."
The reinforcements arrived within two minutes, and sirens could be heard in the distance.
The K9 police dog was in the passenger seat, and the Paw Patrol dogs were barking impatiently, already sensing something suspicious.
Banner, his face streaked with tears, was filled with regret and remorse. "Clark, are we really going to be laid off alive? My God!"
Clark sat down next to his partner, and as the adrenaline subsided, pain nearly overwhelmed his body.
The two young men were preoccupied, finding it hard to imagine how the nameless man could maintain his fighting spirit in such extreme circumstances—the Six Arts had saved their lives, but what kind of terrifying person was the gunsmith who wrote down the Six Arts?
"Can we really protect ourselves?" Banner murmured. "That old man Koruyaf was right. Without weapons and equipment, what are the chances of the chapter's men surviving against these ruthless thugs?"
"Don't say discouraging things," Clark gritted his teeth and insisted, "If we survived this time, we can survive next time too!"
Banner tried to pull himself together and stand up, but his weak legs wouldn't cooperate.
"Let's hope so. Let's hope so, Clark Sean. Let's hope our future isn't just a dream."
When the K9 police dog unit arrived at the scene, the militia found half a ton of heroin in the truck. There was a lot of heroin in the Barry of the three corpses, as if they wanted to experience a moment of ecstasy before they died.
Methamphetamine was found in the driver's system. These crazed criminals had all used drugs before they died, and the pain from the bullets only drove them even crazier.
"Only three corpses?" Clark finally realized something was wrong.
Banner immediately exclaimed, "I saw four people! There were definitely four in the carriage!"
At that very moment, a supple strip of meat emerged from the rear of the Hino truck's cargo box.
--It squeezed out from the observation window opened by the Four Eyes, from that small round hole less than fifteen millimeters in diameter.
The human skin's connective tissue, eyeballs, fingers, hair, nails, and other oddly shaped soft flesh ooze out like rubber.
It squeezed out of the carriage and immediately transformed into human form, becoming a henchman of the Insect Eye Gang.
The henchman, still shaken and terrified by Clark and Banner, lost all will to fight and only wanted to escape. He lifted his limp legs, like a shapeshifter from a cartoon, and stretched them out thin and long, whipping them like whips, and leaped across the pile of earth, disappearing in the blink of an eye!
Clark sensed the psionic fluctuations, but it was too late. He followed the K9 police dog to the field by the mound and fired at the long-legged, naked man in the distance—whose legs seemed to extend all the way down to his neck!
The bullet pierced the rubber monster's body, seemingly leaving no wound. The supple skin encased the scorching bullet, only burning a few charred marks. Shrapnel, contained by the elastic skin, stretched forward several meters before rebounding rapidly like a soft balloon. The returning bullet grazed K9, causing the police dogs to howl wildly. Soon, the Paw Patrol fled in disarray, no longer daring to chase after them into the wilderness, turning into whimpering monsters and running back with their tails between their legs.
Clark was utterly astonished; this was the first time he had ever witnessed such mysterious psychic power.
--This is the spirit of George Joshua, the "great man can bend and stretch" he speaks of, the powerful weapon in his male chauvinism that can advance or retreat, be big or small, and the divine power that allows him to survive from the heavy bullets in the Big Sister's boots.
Banner saw it all clearly and immediately jumped back into the car, shouting loudly.
"FDH102 Intercity Expressway! A thug who ate the Gum-Gum Fruit has run off into the wilderness--"
"--It's Straw Hat Luffy! I'm not kidding! Can you please stop laughing, CCTV?!"