Gunfights and Fun

Gunfire crackled incessantly in the distance. Darnell, trembling, opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again.

He looked at Lin An's face. That refined, Oriental face showed no signs of fear, not even a hint of tension.

There was only that smile he had seen before, one that was becoming increasingly familiar... polite, gentle, the kind of smile a good student wears when answering a question in class.

But Darnell knew what that smile meant.

That smile meant Lin An was about to do something only a lunatic would attempt.

"Bro."

Darnell's voice was shaking.

"You aren't serious, right? You're joking, right? You just want to go take a leak, right?"

Lin An had already turned away.

He walked along the base of the wall, his pace neither fast nor slow, as if he were strolling through a park.

The live chat scrolled rapidly.

[Go, go, I want to see blood flowing like a river]

[Go this way, circle around the alley on the left, there's a low wall there you can use as cover]

[Are you crazy, streamer? Two gangs are in a shootout, why are you going over there alone?]

[He's not alone, he has us]

[Right, the entire battlefield is in our eyes]

[If the streamer doesn't join the fight, what are we watching for?]

Lin An hugged the wall, slipping through the gap between two buildings. His footsteps were light, making almost no sound on the asphalt.

Darnell stood where he was, watching Lin An's back disappear into the shadows of the alley entrance. His mouth opened and closed, opened and closed, until finally, he slapped his chest and prepared to follow to observe the situation.

"Bro, having a good brother like me is truly your blessing... If you accidentally get hit by a bullet later, I'll definitely rush over to drag you away, I won't let you die here."

Lin An walked about fifty meters along the wall and stopped behind a low barrier.

The wall was exactly chest-high. He crouched down, leaning his back against it. The gunfire was ahead, at a distance of about seventy or eighty meters.

It sounded like firecrackers during the New Year, but duller and more lethal. Occasionally, a scream or a curse would be carried by the wind, though it was hard to make out clearly.

"Do me a favor, brothers."

As Lin An spoke, he let the viewers in the chat observe the situation for him while he opened his gift list and began pulling items out.

Lin An first took out a pair of black tactical gloves. The fingertips had anti-slip particles and the backs of the hands featured carbon fiber armor. Not only did they provide basic tactical utility, but they also prevented his fingerprints from appearing where they shouldn't.

Then, he put on a baseball cap, pulling the brim low to cover most of his face.

[Streamer, you're still missing something to hide your face. I have a mask for cosplay, do you want it?]

"Yes."

[Diu Ni Rem gifted a mask]

Lin An retrieved the mask. It was a silicone skull mask, a half-face design that covered everything from Lin An's nose up, leaving only his mouth and chin exposed.

The base of the mask was black, the skull pattern was white, and the eye sockets were two black holes, making it look like a grinning skull.

Good. With the mask on, Lin An's disguise was essentially complete. Even if captured on camera or seen by witnesses, no one would know who he was.

As long as he wasn't observed at close range, it would be very difficult for the police to find him.

Lin An took out a Glock 19, began checking the weapon, loaded the magazine, and then tucked the gun into the back of his waistband, covering it with the hem of his T-shirt.

As he finished preparing to enter the fray, the chat began providing him with real-time updates.

[The battlefield is at your ten o'clock, about seventy meters away]

[The ones near the church side are the Crips, about seven or eight people, wearing blue or black clothes, some wearing blue bandanas]

[The ones hiding behind the cars and in the alley are the other side, wearing silver skull necklaces, they should be the Rainstorm Gang, about the same number]

[The Rainstorm Gang guys are pretty fierce, some are standing outside the cars shooting, like they aren't afraid of death]

[One of the Crips has already gone down, lying on the church steps, don't know if he's dead or alive]

[One of the Rainstorm Gang has also gone down, lying behind a gray sedan, not moving]

[Both sides are at a stalemate now, no one dares to charge, they're just trading fire]

Lin An's gaze swept across the battlefield.

He saw the Crips; a Black man in a blue hoodie crouched behind a trash can, poked his head out to fire a shot, then ducked back. A piece of a blue bandana was visible on his wrist—the mark of the Crips.

He also saw the Rainstorm Gang; a Black man wearing a silver skull necklace stood behind an SUV, his upper body completely exposed, firing continuously toward the Crips until he emptied his magazine before ducking back to reload.

Silver skull necklace.

Lin An narrowed his eyes. He remembered what Darnell had said about the sentry earlier, his expression remaining unchanged.

He thought of something.

"By the way, this is a good opportunity. Does anyone want to play a round of real-life Counter-Strike? I happen to have five Ni Ge corpses in my shop right now, and we can put them to use."

The chat went quiet for half a second.

Then it exploded.

[Holy shit???]

[Real-life CS???]

[Wait, what did you say? Five corpses? When did you collect those?]

[You must be new here today, you don't even know that?]

[We're actually going to use them now?]

[Five people, each controlling a corpse, grabbing guns and rushing out to fight the gang?]

[This is fucking more exciting than a movie.]

[I want to play, I want to play, I want to play!]

[Pick me, pick me, pick me!]

[I have points, I have real-life shooting experience, let me do it!]

Lin An looked at the chat, the corners of his mouth curving slightly. With a wave of his hand, the five corpses appeared neatly on the ground.

"First one, who wants in?"

[Me, me, me!]

[Let me do it, I've been playing FPS games for twenty years.]

[It's not a game, it's a real gun. Can you handle it?]

[I can, I served in the military.]

Lin An began grabbing the comments from the chat and tossing them onto the corpses, doing so five times in succession.

The five corpses opened their eyes and climbed to their feet.

While these five players were limbering up, Lin An didn't waste any time. He began taking out Glock 19 pistols, all of which had been fitted with full-auto conversion switches, allowing for fully automatic fire.

Of course, such modifications definitely had issues; first, the risk of a chamber explosion increased, and second, accuracy would drop. But would the players care about such minor details?

They would not.

In addition, Lin An equipped each gun with an extra magazine and thirty loose 9mm rounds, meaning each player would have sixty shots—enough to have a blast.

Lin An beckoned the players over to take their guns and ammunition.

The first player, with the handle [Old Soldier Never Die] floating above his head, took the gun, his movements as skilled as a well-trained soldier.

He checked the magazine, racked the slide to confirm a round was chambered, and then tucked the gun into the back of his waistband.

The second was a viewer called [Arcade Gun God]. His movements were slower than [Old Soldier Never Die]; after getting the gun, he turned it over and over several times, as if getting a feel for the weapon.

[This gun is a bit lighter than I imagined.]

He posted in the chat.

Five corpses, five people, five fully automatic Glock 19s.

Lin An looked at them and nodded.

"Listen, your bodies originally belonged to the Crips. The Crips outside will see you and think you're one of their own. You'll hit the Rainstorm Gang first, and once the Rainstorm Gang is wiped out, then you take out the Crips."

"Understood."

[Old Soldier Never Die] said.

"Good."

Lin An said.

"Go."

The five corpses vaulted over the low wall and charged out.

They weren't just rushing in blindly.

[Old Soldier Never Die] was in the lead, his body kept very low as he moved rapidly along the base of the wall.

He was clearly the experienced one; while charging, he kept his gun steady, his eyes scanning every potential threat.

[Arcade Gun God] followed behind him, running a bit crookedly but with decent speed.

He was also someone who had handled real guns before. Although his movements weren't as seasoned as [Old Soldier Never Die], he at least knew how to change magazines and aim.

The remaining three—[New York Veteran Driver], [Nightclub Security], and [College Student]—were all complete novices.

Their only advantage was that they didn't care about their own lives. As they rushed out, they flipped their Glock 19s to full-auto mode, pulling the trigger the moment they saw a silhouette, firing in long bursts as bullets poured out like water.

Relying on the element of surprise, the five-man squad actually managed to terrify the Rainstorm Gang gunmen upon their appearance, and in the process, the experienced ones began to rack up kills.

Bang.

[Old Soldier Never Die], lying prone behind the hood of a car, fired. Fifteen meters away, on the Rainstorm Gang's side, a gunman standing behind an SUV took a bullet to the forehead, then slid to the ground and stopped moving.

Arcade Gun God, who was beside him, also opened fire.

He fired two short bursts, the bullets striking the gray sedan where the Rainstorm Gang was hiding, shattering the car windows.

A Rainstorm Gang gunman hiding behind the car had his face slashed by flying glass; he let out a scream and bolted from behind the vehicle.

Nightclub Security, standing in the middle of the street with his legs spread and holding his gun in one hand, seized the opportunity... or to be more precise, he didn't think that much at all; he simply saw a moving target and instinctively pulled the trigger all the way back.

Da-da-da-da-da.

In full-auto mode, the Glock's fifteen rounds were spent in two seconds.

Most of these bullets flew wide, but a few inevitably found their mark.

The gunman who had run out took a hit to the leg and stumbled, then was grazed on the shoulder by a stray bullet; he collapsed to the ground, rolled twice, and went still.

[Two]

New York Veteran Driver and College Student also opened fire.

Both of them were firing in full-auto, emptying magazine after magazine, sending sparks flying off the cover where the Rainstorm Gang was hiding as brick fragments and metal shards filled the air.

Accuracy aside, the firepower was truly fierce... the Rainstorm Gang members were pinned down so hard they didn't even dare to lift their heads.

"There's someone behind us!"

A Rainstorm Gang gunman shouted, his voice laced with fear.

"They're attacking from the rear!"

"It's the Crips, they've got reinforcements!"

"How many are there?"

"Can't tell, at least five or six!"

The Rainstorm Gang members began to panic.

But panic aside, few who survived on these streets were easily intimidated, and those gathered here were the elite of the Rainstorm Gang.

A bald Black man crouching behind the gray sedan was the first to steady himself; he wore three silver skull necklaces around his neck and held a sawed-off shotgun in his hands.

He roared at his companions beside him.

"Don't you fucking panic, it's just a few people, push them back!"

He lunged out, aiming his shotgun at the low wall where New York Veteran Driver was hiding.

Boom.

The nine lead pellets of the 12-gauge shell spread into a basin-sized circle at thirty meters, slamming into the low wall and kicking up a spray of brick dust.

New York Veteran Driver was crouching behind the wall changing his magazine when a pellet grazed his shoulder, tearing a gash and sending blood spraying out.

New York Veteran Driver looked down at his shoulder as the bullet chat scrolled by.

[Damn, does it hurt?]

[You're controlling from a distance, you shouldn't feel pain, right?]

[No pain, but my body feels a bit loose, like the parts in this area aren't working right.]

He didn't have time to dwell on it before the Rainstorm Gang's second wave of fire arrived.

The first to fire was a tall, thin Latino man hiding behind an SUV; he crouched beside the hood, gripped his gun with both hands, and aimed at Nightclub Security, who was standing in the most exposed position.

Bang x 3

Three shots, two hits.

Two holes opened up in Nightclub Security's chest; his body swayed, and the Glock 19 in his hand continued to fire, but the aim was completely off, sending all the bullets into the sky.

The bullet chat refreshed above Nightclub Security's head.

[I've been hit, my body isn't listening to me.]

[You've got two holes in you, it's a miracle you're still standing.]

[Can you still move?]

[Yeah, but this body feels like it's failing, my active time is shrinking.]

Old Soldier Never Die looked back and cursed under his breath.

[Hold the line, suppress them with fire!]

Arcade Gun God was the first to react.

He hunched over, dashed out from behind cover, crossed the open ground, and ducked behind an abandoned box truck.

His movements weren't particularly fast, but he chose a good route, and all the Rainstorm Gang's bullets struck the ground behind him.

Nightclub Security didn't move.

It wasn't that he didn't want to, but his body simply couldn't hold up anymore.

Blood was pouring from the two bullet holes he'd taken, and he felt his legs growing weaker, as if he were stepping on cotton; he gritted his teeth, swapped in his final magazine, stood up, and unleashed a full-auto burst toward the Rainstorm Gang.

Da-da-da-da-da... Full-auto, all 15 rounds spent.

Stray bullets flew everywhere; one struck the windshield of the SUV, shattering the glass into a spiderweb pattern that obscured the driver's vision.

Another round hit the lanky man in the calf. He let out a miserable shriek, dropping to one knee as his Ruger P89 clattered to the ground.

But Nightclub Security had paid a price as well.

The bald black man poked his head out again, his shotgun leveled at the other man's chest.

BOOM.

All nine lead pellets from the 12-gauge shell tore into the chest cavity of Nightclub Security, his body collapsing backward as his Glock 19 fell onto his lap.

[GG, I'm dead.]

College Student saw Nightclub Security go down and panicked instinctively.

He was the youngest of the five, and the corpse he was controlling was the skinniest; he crouched behind a trash can, his hands shaking, his gun trembling along with them.

[Shoot, hurry!]

[If you don't want to play, log out and let me do it.]

College Student didn't move, nor did he fire; he was completely stunned.

On the Rainstorm Gang side, the lanky man knelt on the ground, tightened a bandana around the bullet hole in his calf, and then picked up his Ruger P89 to resume firing.

His aim was true; the first shot struck just above the low wall where New York Veteran Driver was hiding, missing the top of his head by a hair's breadth.

New York Veteran Driver ducked back and shifted his position.

His shoulder was still oozing blood, but it wasn't a major issue; he wasn't going to die just yet.

He poked his head out from the side of the low wall and unleashed a burst toward the Rainstorm Gang... full-auto fire, ten rounds, eight of which flew wide, with only two striking the door of the SUV with a metallic clang.

On the Crips side, the situation was entirely different.

They had been observing the battlefield the whole time.

From the moment those five "allies" suddenly appeared, they had seen a glimmer of hope. Now that the Rainstorm Gang's firepower was largely occupied by these five lunatics, the Crips felt their chance had arrived.

"Charge!"

A black man wearing a blue hoodie leaped up from the steps of the church entrance, a MAC-11 submachine gun in his hands.

"While their rear is in chaos, push forward!"

He was the first to rush out.

The other three Crips followed close behind.

One held a Smith & Wesson semi-automatic pistol, another carried a sawed-off double-barreled shotgun, and the last held only a revolver... a .38, six rounds, an ancient model, but still capable of killing at close range.

The four men charged out from the small plaza at the church entrance, advancing along the left side of the street toward the Rainstorm Gang.

Their logic was simple: the Rainstorm Gang's attention was fixed on the five allies behind them, so there had to be gaps in their frontal defense.

As long as they could close the distance and engage in a firefight, it wouldn't matter how many men the Rainstorm Gang had.

The Rainstorm Gang members quickly noticed their movement.

"The Crips are charging from the front!"

A man hiding behind a gray sedan shouted.

The bald black man turned his head and saw four men in blue rapidly approaching; the leader had already sprinted past the flower bed, less than thirty meters away.

He cursed, shifted the shotgun to his left hand, and drew a Glock 17 from behind his waist with his right.

"Three of you, focus on the front! Don't let them get close!"

The Rainstorm Gang adjusted their formation. Three men continued to suppress Old Soldier Never Die and his group, while the other three turned their muzzles toward the charging Crips.

The firefight turned intense in an instant.

The Crip gunman with the MAC-11 opened fire first.

He reached the flower bed, crouched down, rested the MAC-11 on the edge, and unleashed a burst toward the Rainstorm Gang.

The MAC-11, chambered in .380 ACP, had an incredibly high rate of fire; the entire magazine of over thirty rounds emptied in a matter of seconds.

Bullets hammered into the vehicles the Rainstorm Gang was hiding behind, into the walls, and into the ground, forcing the gang members to keep their heads down.

The three Crip gunmen behind him opened fire as well.

Pistols, shotguns, and the revolver fired in unison; though their firepower wasn't as dense as the Rainstorm Gang's, the proximity made it a lethal threat.

On the Rainstorm Gang side, one gunman had his ear grazed by a stray bullet from the MAC-11, tearing half of it off and causing blood to pour out.

He clutched his ear, screaming as he retreated to hide behind a car.

The bald black man didn't retreat; he stood beside the SUV, his Glock 17 aimed at the Crip gunman with the MAC-11.

Another three-round burst, and two shots connected.

The Crip gunman with the MAC-11 took hits to his chest and shoulder, his body arching backward as he tumbled behind the flower bed, the MAC-11 sliding from his grip and falling to the ground.

But the Crip gunman wasn't dead; he struggled to crawl up, retrieved the MAC-11, and fired again.

However, his aim was off this time; the bullets all flew into the sky, and after two seconds, the firing stopped... the magazine was empty.

"Reload!"

He shouted.

The men behind him rushed up to cover him. The Crips gunman with the Smith & Wesson semi-automatic pistol dashed in front of him, firing continuously toward the Rainstorm Gang.

His aim was poor, but his rapid-fire suppression was intense enough that the Rainstorm Gang members didn't dare to poke their heads out.

The Crips gunman with the double-barreled shotgun also charged forward; he ran to the other side of the flower bed, raised his shotgun, and fired a shot toward the Rainstorm Gang.

Boom.

The buckshot slammed into the body of the SUV with a deafening roar. A dozen small holes appeared on the vehicle's frame, but the Rainstorm Gang gunman behind the car remained unharmed... he was crouching very low, and the steel of the car body blocked most of the pellets.

The bald Black man saw his chance. He crouched down and spotted the Crips gunman's feet from beneath the car.

He raised his Glock 17, aimed at those feet, and fired repeatedly.

The Crips gunman with the double-barreled shotgun took a hit to the ankle, let out a miserable scream, and collapsed to the ground. The double-barreled shotgun flew from his hands and slid into the middle of the road.

His companion rushed over, trying to drag him back, but the Rainstorm Gang's firepower was too fierce. Bullets hammered into the flower bed, sending stone fragments flying everywhere, and he didn't dare to lift his head at all.

On the battlefield, the situation was currently as follows.

The Rainstorm Gang had six people left, their firepower split: three were engaging Old Soldier Never Die and his group, while three were engaging the Crips charging from the front.

The Crips had three and a half men left... the Crips gunman with the MAC-11 had finished reloading and rejoined the fight.

The Crips gunman with the Smith & Wesson semi-automatic was still firing, the one with the revolver was also still shooting, and the one with the double-barreled shotgun had an injured foot; he was sitting on the ground, loading shells into his shotgun, preparing to continue the fight.

On the players' side, Nightclub Security was dead, College Student was still crouching behind the trash can without moving, New York Veteran Driver had a shoulder injury but could still fight, Arcade Gun God was hiding behind a cargo van, and Old Soldier Never Die was behind the foremost cover, busy loading bullets into his magazine.

Lin An crouched behind a low wall, observing all of this.

The corners of his mouth curled up slightly.

Then, he began to move.