Gin did not quite understand what his two colleagues were doing. They had actually taken the initiative to enter the cargo compartment of a truck. How was that any different from a turtle voluntarily jumping into a jar?
If someone had malicious intentions and shut the rear doors, Vodka and Irish would be trapped with no way out—such poor vigilance was simply a disgrace to the Dark World.
"Who knows? Maybe they're chasing thrills?" Beside him, Chianti caressed the gun in her hand, her expression excited. The blood-red butterfly tattoo at the corner of her eye seemed to flutter with her animated expression. "Since that's the case, why not do them a favor? Those people by the truck must have seen Vodka and Irish's faces clearly—the time has come to silence them! Gin, pick one. Kill those two, or kill the people in that vehicle?"
"Silence them?" As a fellow sniper, Korn was not as enthusiastic about his work as Chianti. He recalled calmly, "I remember Vodka and Irish both have legitimate identities they can use in public."
In other words, neither of them was wanted. Merely having their faces seen did not warrant immediate action—especially since, with Uzo's help, Vodka and Irish's social circles had been growing broader lately. Even the police had gradually begun to recognize them.
Chianti understood her partner's point and clicked her tongue in boredom. "How dull... Come to think of it, why did those two crawl into a truck parked by the roadside for no reason?"
Korn adjusted his Windproof Goggles. "Judging from the situation, Vodka rented a bomb vehicle. This should be a rescue operation."
Gin's brow twitched. When he had checked the news about the bus hijacking earlier, he had indeed glimpsed an article about an "unlucky citizen accidentally renting a vehicle