But judging by the crushed driver's seat in the vehicle ahead, the underling there was probably beyond saving.
The criminal who had been hit and was still dizzy from the blow immediately had his adrenaline and survival instinct surge at the smell of gasoline and those words. He strained with all his strength and followed Floyd away.
Once the two police officers and six prisoners had all retreated to the side, the vehicle exploded with a bang as its fuel tank detonated.
"Walter, there's no signal here. I can't contact headquarters. We need to relocate somewhere else."
Nate, the young prison guard with short hair and resolute eyes, said to Walter, the burly buzz-cut guard beside him.
"My name is Alex. Please save me. That thing is hunting me—it killed my companions," the slender girl hurriedly said to Nate.
Young, handsome police officers always won women's trust first. Compared to Nate, the fierce-looking Walter had it worse.
"What exactly is that thing?" Nate asked suspiciously, looking Alex over from head to toe and taking in her disheveled state.
"Forget that. Take these ankle shackles off me first!" Floyd, the Black crime boss, strode toward the two men.
The other five criminals surrounded them as well. They were all serious offenders, and this might be their chance to escape prison.
"Here, I'm the one calling the shots!" Floyd stepped in front of Nate, his eyes gleaming viciously.
"You're not calling the shots. You'd better wait for the backup officers to arrive, Floyd. I suggest you don't do anything unnecessary."
The voice came from behind the six criminals. Walter, the buzz-cut prison guard, had somehow circled around behind them. He had gotten hold of a shotgun and aimed it at the Black crime boss.
Just as the criminals faced the gun barrel