S.W.A.T.'s formidable reputation needed no introduction. They were superbly equipped and highly trained in tactics. Even without forming squads, each individual possessed exceptional combat ability—elites among elites.
Their standard-issue weapons included M1911 pistols, MP5 Submachine Guns, M4 Assault Rifles, Remington M870 tactical shotguns, Remington 700 PSS sniper rifles, and more. Their firepower was immense, enough to suppress any hardened criminal head-on.
Their personal protective gear was equally advanced: combat uniforms, Bulletproof Vests, tactical vests, balaclavas, Goggles, bulletproof Helmets, and more—enough to handle a whole range of sudden dangers.
Combined with miniature radio earpieces and command communications from armored vehicles, they were practically unstoppable.
Russell could achieve One Hundred Percent Accuracy against stationary targets, but against S.W.A.T., the ace among special police units, he had little confidence.
The good news was that this S.W.A.T. force had not deployed in full. There were only three five-man combat squads, and they were not from New York.
As for sniper teams, Russell could not tell whether they had concealed themselves somewhere. Considering the factory's complex terrain, filled with reinforced-concrete obstacles and lacking any nearby high ground, the odds of him getting sniped while using the terrain for cover were low.
Thanks to the Subway Police's remaining fragments of special combat memories, Russell cautiously carried the unconscious Smith and brought him and Quintana back to their previous hiding place.
There was no chance of Smith waking up and going on a rampage. Russell slapped him more than a dozen times, fronthand and backhand, but Smith's face merely swelled into a pig's head while he continued sleeping soundly.
Under Quintana's furious glare, Russell briefly checked the M9 and turned to leave.
"Wait! There are fully armed cops outside. Are you planning to go out there and die?"
Quintana realized what Russell intended and hurriedly grabbed his arm. They had supported each other all this way, and she did not want him throwing his life away.
"Sometimes, giving up lets you die comfortably. But if we fight for it, maybe we can take someone down with us. Including the baby, there are four of us, so we only break even if we take out four enemies!"
Russell spoke half-jokingly, then turned, hunched over, and left. In Quintana's sight, all that remained was his back as he firmly shut the door behind him.
Quintana was stunned. She had always thought Russell was afraid of death, because whenever Smith went out to gather intelligence, Russell stayed behind under the excuse of protecting her and the child.
At that moment, she admitted she had misjudged him. At a critical moment, Russell did not flinch at all. He was a companion worth trusting.
In truth, Quintana had not been wrong. Russell really was afraid of death. The only reason he seemed so responsible was that there was nowhere left to run. After entering the factory, S.W.A.T. had not even said, "Drop your weapons and surrender, and you won't be killed." They had not offered even a deceptive lie.
That meant S.W.A.T.'s orders were to leave no survivors!
Even a cornered rabbit would bite, let alone a living man. Since they had decided to leave no one alive, Russell had no other choice. He hid behind a battered generator and silently opened the system interface.
Character Card x3: Bolt, Temple Guard, Swart; Skill Card x3: One Hundred Percent Accuracy, Death Coil, Bullet Time; Item Card x3: Healing Ointment x2, Blood Sucking Bandage x3, and one carrot.
Ignoring the cards he could not use or that were useless, Russell had only three usable cards: Swart, One Hundred Percent Accuracy, and Bullet Time.
Steadying himself, Russell focused his attention and tried to use his superhuman senses, hoping his faster reactions could break the terrible situation before him.
"System, use 'Skill Card: One Hundred Percent Accuracy'!"
Host equipped 'Skill Card: One Hundred Percent Accuracy'. This card is a one-time-use Skill Card!
Russell cursed the trash system for doing nothing but screwing him over. Then his heart suddenly skipped a beat, and he spun sideways and fired. Raising the gun, turning, aiming, shooting, crouching—the movements flowed together in one seamless motion, as if they had been hammered into his bones through countless repetitions.
Bang!
The bullet struck a S.W.A.T. officer directly. The round hit his Goggles and pierced his brain. The unlucky man saw only Russell's fluid movements. Before he could pull the trigger, he was dead, collapsing to the ground without another sound.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang...
A howling barrage of bullets came at him. The overwhelming firepower instantly pinned Russell down, leaving him unable to raise his head. He only had an M9; against these well-equipped elite special police, he was utterly helpless.
The One Hundred Percent Accuracy skill ended. Russell did not dare waste time, afraid the enemy would lob a high-powered Flashbang at his position. Powerful Flashbangs with concussive effects were essential tools in special operations. One was all it took to render him combat-ineffective.
He glanced around the generator. The ground was covered in thick dust, but there was nothing there. Russell raised an eyebrow and took off his shoe.
On S.W.A.T.'s side, after losing one unlucky officer, one squad provided suppressive fire while the rest began closing in from all directions, advancing toward the generator.
"Fire in the hole!"
At that moment, Russell shouted, and a dark object flew through the air. The S.W.A.T. officers instinctively threw themselves to the ground. The instant they hit the floor, they regretted it—it was not a Grenade at all, just a shoe.
"Open fire! Free fire authorized!!" The squad leader, who had sprawled face-first onto the ground, immediately flew into a rage. He ordered them to maintain tactical formation and authorized everyone to fire at will.
Using that quick-witted trick, Russell escaped S.W.A.T.'s encirclement and tried to lure them away, hoping to draw them farther from the room where Smith was hiding.
Unfortunately, the squad leader was no fool. They were experienced. Rather than risk falling into a trap where they could be attacked from both front and rear, they expanded the encirclement. They did not know Smith was unconscious and that Russell was the only one capable of fighting, so they remained extremely cautious.
That gave Russell more time to catch his breath. He leaned against a dust-covered load-bearing wall, his heart pounding wildly. He could not calm it no matter how he adjusted his breathing, and sweat had soaked even the hand gripping his gun.
Russell took a deep breath and opened the system interface again, looking at 'Skill Card: Bullet Time'. He did not need to think to know it was another one-time skill. He just did not know whether Bullet Time was timed or whether it only allowed him to fire one bullet.
Russell hesitated, then suddenly thought of the last usable Character Card. A contemplative glint flashed through his eyes.
He had a plan...
"System, equip 'Character Card: Swart' and overlay the character skin!"
Host equipped 'Character Card: Swart'. Confirm character skin overlay. Countdown: 180 seconds. Timer started.
Almost instantly, Russell's appearance changed drastically. He became taller and wore a standard S.W.A.T. combat uniform convincing enough to pass unnoticed, complete with Goggles and a helmet.
If there was any difference, it was that Russell had no matching weapon. He still had only an M9.
Russell frowned. "Damn it, only 180 seconds. How am I supposed to—"
Before he could finish, Russell froze. He looked at the arm holding his gun and stood there blankly for a full ten seconds before letting out a strange laugh. "Fuck, I'm a cheater!"
His plan to infiltrate the enemy was canceled. He was going to go godlike directly!
At that moment, an assault officer carrying an M4A1 was the first to spot the load-bearing wall where Russell was hiding. He gave a tactical hand signal and, under his teammates' cover, rolled out from behind Russell.
The assault officer raised his weapon at Russell. Seeing the gear of one of his own, he hurriedly lifted the muzzle and cursed, "What are you doing? Why aren't you maintaining formation?"
Russell turned around, raised the M9, and made as if to fire.
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat...
Russell was hit by the barrage. The bullets' momentum sent him flying forward, and he slammed against the wall, his limbs twitching wildly.
Two seconds later, the assault officer stopped firing. Looking at Russell, who remained pinned to the wall in the same pose, he said quietly, "Target neutralized! Attention, the enemy is wearing the same combat uniform as us! I repeat, the enemy is wearing the same combat uniform as us!"
"All squads, attention. Change tactical formations. Advance in squad units and search for the remaining targets. Kill on sight once discovered!"
Hearing the order through his miniature earpiece, the assault officer responded and turned to rejoin his teammates. Suddenly, he seemed to realize something. The bullet-riddled body was not bleeding. There were only bullet holes in the wall and ground, not a single drop of blood.
The assault officer wondered what kind of Bulletproof Vest could withstand rifle fire at such close range, but he did not think much of it. At that range, every bone in Russell's body had surely been broken.
At that moment, a pair of large hands clamped around the assault officer's neck from behind.
Crack!
Russell lowered the assault officer's corpse, holstered the M9, picked up the M4A1, replaced the magazine, and aimed at a blurry shadow on the wall.
"With immortality + wallhacks + shooting through walls + headshots, I could go 100 kills and 0 deaths too!"
Failure Diary
My life goal was to become a minor god by the time I turned thirty. Now half that goal was about to come true—I was almost thirty.
Before you continue