In the far outskirts of Washington, D.C., ten kilometers southeast of Oak Ridge Manor, behind an abandoned warehouse.
The engines of three heavily modified, pitch-black Cadillac Escalade SUVs let out low roars.
Their tires shrieked against the pavement as they shot out of the warehouse alley's shadows like arrows loosed from a bow.
On a secondary road leading toward the coast, Wang Qiang sat in the front passenger seat of the first vehicle.
The back seat and the two vehicles behind were packed with shaken business tycoons clutching tightly to the handrails.
As well as Shadow Clones responsible for protecting them.
Wang Qiang looked back through the rearview mirror. At that moment, the Shadow Clone monitoring the villa district dispelled itself.
From the Shadow Clone's perspective, in the direction of Oak Ridge Manor.
The previously sparse lights had been replaced by countless flashing red and blue police lights.
Like an illuminated beehive that had been stirred awake, the piercing sirens could faintly be heard even from this distance.
And they were rapidly growing denser and closer.
"Not a slow response."
Wang Qiang pulled a matchbox-sized black device from the inner pocket of his combat uniform.
It had only one bright red button. Without hesitation, he pressed it. "Go meet your God!"
Several minutes earlier, at the FBA field command center and scene in Washington.
The instant it was confirmed that all guard communications at Oak Ridge Manor had been cut off and the electronic restraint signals had vanished together.
The head of the FBA's Washington branch realized that this was far more serious than an ordinary escape.
He ordered every nearby field team and patrol unit on standby to rush to the scene and expand the cordon.
By then, dozens of police cars and black FBA SUVs that had arrived