Arms Frenzy

East Africa, the mercenary squad's newly scouted temporary rendezvous point—a dry riverbed surrounded by weathered rocky mountains.

This place is more remote and open than the previous abandoned farm. Jagged, reddish-brown rocks, like the fangs of a giant beast, guard this flat gravel land, forming a natural barrier and shelter. There is no road leading directly there, only a few blurry tire tracks repeatedly worn by off-road vehicles, almost blending into the surrounding environment.

The location was chosen by Locke after receiving the $100 million deposit (the verification process was so fast it made his palms sweat), through a brief encrypted communication with his "new boss." It was a remote location, flat enough for light helicopters to take off and land, the shadows of the rocks provided excellent camouflage, and the relatively open view made it easy to be on guard.

The deadline was "within 36 hours," as promised by the new boss. At this moment, there were only two hours left until the agreed time. Dusk was beginning to fall, dyeing the sky and rocks a dark, rusty purplish-red. The heat in the air was rapidly dissipating, replaced by the dry, sandy chill characteristic of a desert night.

The entire "Blood Spear" team, including the seriously wounded "Wrench" (who was still recovering but insisted on coming), a total of seventeen people, were present. No one spoke. Each of them was fully armed (using their own old, repaired equipment) and spread out in a standard defensive formation, occupying various high points and rock bunkers along the riverbed. Everyone's eyes were frequently turned to the southeast sky, the agreed-upon direction for the equipment to be delivered.

The atmosphere was heavy yet exhilarating. One hundred million US dollars was already firmly in their pockets, and everyone knew what that meant—even if the mission failed (although the intelligence and equipment provided by the new boss made them think the chances of failure were extremely low), this advance payment was enough to ensure everyone's financial security for the rest of their lives. But what really got their blood pumping was the "toys" the new boss had promised.

"' Little Bird '... can it really fly all the way here?" Sniper "Shadow" lay prone on the highest rock, observing the sky through high-powered binoculars, and whispered into his headset. He was a taciturn South African with a perpetually expressionless face.

"That's what it says on the list." The vice-captain, "Anvil," leaned against the hood of a pickup truck, inspecting his old G3 rifle, but his eyes couldn't help but dart towards the sky. "Damn, if we could really get our hands on that thing, with Vulcan... my life would be worth it."

Commander Locke stood in the middle of the riverbed, his posture upright, like a javelin driven into the sand. In his hand was a palm-sized military GPS locator, the screen displaying precise latitude and longitude coordinates and a rapidly decreasing countdown.

His face was expressionless, but the sharp light in his always slightly narrowed, scarred eyes shone brighter than usual. He was waiting, assessing the situation. This was not just about receiving equipment, but also the first close-up verification of the new boss's strength. If the other party could even accomplish the rapid cross-border delivery of such sensitive military supplies, then the depth of their background was far beyond their comprehension.

Five minutes before the countdown reached zero, a faint hum, distinct from the wind, came from the southeastern horizon. The sound was low and initially almost drowned out by the whistling of the wind over the rocks, but it quickly became clear and steady, and split into two independent sound sources.

"Look, they're here!" Shadow's voice rang in the earpiece, tinged with a barely perceptible tension.

Everyone tensed, gripped their weapons, and turned their gazes toward the source of the sound.

As dusk settled on the horizon, two tiny black dots appeared, quickly growing larger. They were two MD-500 "Little Bird" light helicopters, painted with civilian registration numbers but with distinct military-grade exteriors! Without their navigation lights flashing, they glided silently like two enormous black dragonflies, skimming the horizon and using ground clutter and the deepening darkness as cover, hurtling towards the dry riverbed.

What's even more breathtaking is that you can clearly see that both "Little Bird" have had makeshift armor plates welded onto their sides. The sliding doors on both sides of the cabin have been removed and replaced with external weapon mounts. On one of the mounts, a dark, multi-barreled machine gun—an M134 "Vulcan" rotary machine gun—is prominently displayed! Although the muzzle is currently covered by a protective cover, its cold silhouette and the violent aesthetics it exudes are enough to send the adrenaline soaring through anyone who has witnessed its roar.

"This is... this is fucking..." Machine gunner "Bull" Jack gaped, nearly dropping his PKM general-purpose machine gun. He was obsessed with heavy firepower, and particularly fascinated by legendary weapons like the "Vulcan".

Without the slightest hesitation, the two "Little Bird" flew straight to the riverbed and hovered steadily at a height of about ten meters above the ground. The strong downdraft stirred up a cloud of dust, making it impossible for people to open their eyes. But the members of "Blood Spear" paid no attention to this and just stared intently at the two war machines that seemed to have fallen from the sky.

A head wearing a crash helmet and goggles poked out from the hatch of one of the "Little Bird," gestured downwards, and then pointed to a relatively flat area in the middle of the riverbed. Locke immediately understood and waved for his men to move aside.

The two helicopters descended slowly and landed gracefully at the designated location. The rotor speed decreased, but did not stop completely. The cabin doors opened, and four people jumped out of the two helicopters. They were all wearing unmarked gray jumpsuits, masks, and goggles, so their faces could not be seen. They moved quickly, and one of them was holding a tablet computer. He walked straight towards Locke.

"Verify." The person's voice sounded muffled through the mask, speaking broken English, as they handed over the tablet.

Locke took the document. A simple interface appeared on the screen, requiring him to enter a verification code sent to him individually by his new boss. He quickly entered it. The interface redirected, displaying "Recipient Confirmation - Blood Spear Mercenary Corps, Locke. Equipment list verified correctly, please sign for receipt."

Locke traced his code name in the electronic signature area and handed the tablet back. The person took it, glanced at it, nodded, and without a word, turned and gestured to his companion.

The three men immediately returned to the helicopter and, together with the pilot, began unloading long and square crates wrapped in green canvas and labeled with barcodes, as well as some precision equipment components secured with special foam, from the cabin. Their movements were professional and highly efficient.

"The supplies are listed and packed into two helicopters and subsequent ground transport vehicles. The ground vehicles will arrive in five minutes. Please take inventory." The masked manager said to Locke, then stepped aside, arms crossed, like an emotionless statue.

Locke nodded to "Anvil." "Anvil" immediately led several core team members forward and began to quickly open and inspect the goods according to the electronic list provided by the other party.

The first long crate was opened, revealing neatly stacked HK416A7 assault rifles. The rifles had a matte sand-colored finish, and the smell of brand-new gun oil was immediately noticeable. Each rifle was equipped with an EOTech holographic sight, an AN/PEQ-15 laser designator module, and a robust quick-release suppressor. Next to it were piles of 30-round standard magazines and 100-round C-Mag drum magazines.

"Damn..." An assault soldier picked up a rifle, skillfully pulled back the bolt, checked the rifling, and found it to be perfect, far superior to his old AK that he had used for many years.

Next came the night vision kit case. Opening it revealed twenty sets of the latest GPNVG-18 panoramic night vision goggles, each with four lenses. Shadow picked up a set, his fingers trembling slightly as he touched the smooth lenses and intricate electronic components. "These things... are hard to find even on the black market. One set is equivalent to ten of those third-generation goggles we used to use..."

The communications equipment box contained forty brand-new, compact, and fully functional individual tactical radios, each equipped with encryption modules and bone conduction headsets.

Inside a large, specially designed crate lay four disassembled M134 Vulcan machine guns, their dark barrels gleaming coldly. Beside them lay a mountain of 7.62mm NATO ammunition belts, the golden bullets reflecting an alluring sheen in the twilight. Jack lunged forward, stroking the cool gun barrels as if caressing a lover, murmuring a dreamlike admiration.

Grenade launchers, plastic explosives, demolition cords, thermal imaging drones, man-portable anti-tank rocket launchers (with spare ammunition)... one piece of equipment after another was taken out, inspected, and confirmed to be in good condition. Each piece was top-of-the-line, impeccably maintained, far exceeding any equipment "Blood Spear" had ever handled before, and even surpassing the equipment of some regular army special forces units they had cooperated with.

Five minutes later, just as the other party had said, three unmarked, bulletproof Mercedes-Benz Unimog off-road trucks bumped along the dry riverbed and stopped a short distance away. Several taciturn men in work clothes jumped out of the trucks and began to help unload more ammunition boxes, spare parts, fuel, and even several sets of ghillie suits and carrying equipment suitable for tropical jungle terrain.

The entire receiving process lasted approximately forty minutes. Aside from the necessary inspection instructions and brief confirmations, there was no extra communication. The delivery personnel were professional, efficient, and indifferent. After completing the handover, they quickly boarded the vehicle and left. The two "Little Bird" took off again, just as they had arrived, silently blending into the deepening night and disappearing into the horizon.

On the riverbed, only the "Blood Spear" mercenary group remained, along with a small mountain of brand-new equipment that reeked of metal and oil. The desert night wind blew by, carrying a chill, but it couldn't dispel the excitement, awe, and an indescribable sense of awe that permeated the air.

"Anvil" walked up to Locke, his face trembling slightly with excitement. "Boss... it matches up perfectly, not a single one missing, all... top-quality goods."

Locke slowly exhaled, his gaze sweeping over the equipment before finally settling on the M134 "Vulcan" machine gun that Jack had eagerly assembled and mounted on the back of the pickup truck. The dark barrel gleamed coldly in the starlight.

"Who exactly is the new boss?" a young assault soldier couldn't help but ask in a low voice.

No one answered. But everyone knew in their hearts that the power of an entity capable of so easily mobilizing this level and scale of weaponry, and delivering it across borders with such efficiency and secrecy, was far beyond the comprehension of these mercenaries. To be an enemy of such an entity was to commit suicide. To serve it... while chilling, also came with unimaginable opportunities.

Jack finally snapped out of his obsession with "Vulcan," jumped off the pickup truck, waved his arms excitedly, and roared into the silent night sky, "Wow! That's awesome! I love this treasure! And our new boss, is he Santa Claus? How did he manage to get something like this!"

His excitement infected the others; suppressed gasps and low laughter echoed through the crowd. Fear was temporarily overshadowed by the formidable weaponry and the impending windfall, replaced by a sense of exhilaration and confidence akin to being "armed to the teeth."

"Quiet!" Locke barked, his voice not loud, but it instantly silenced everyone. He glanced at his men, his gaze sharp as a knife.

"Equipment in hand, payment prepaid." Locke's voice echoed across the empty riverbed, cold and clear. "Remember the new boss's rules: Target: Xie Yunchuan. Coordinates have been synced to everyone's tactical tablets. Requirements: Confirm kill, leave no survivors, do not expose yourselves. Operation plan: proceed as we previously devised based on the building plans. Team A (Locke leading) in ' Little Bird 1,' equipped with ' Vulcan,' responsible for frontal suppression and eliminating external threats. Team B (Anvil leading) in ' Little Bird 2,' rappelling in, clearing the interior, and confirming the target. Team C (Shadow leading) on the ground, responsible for perimeter security and support."

"Now, everyone, switch to your new equipment and familiarize yourselves with its performance, especially the night vision goggles and communication systems. Final briefing in two hours. Before dawn, we must ensure the target is completely wiped from the face of the earth."

"Yes, boss!" the men roared in unison, their voices filled with the excitement and determination before the killing.

The riverbed instantly came alive with activity. The team members eagerly shed their old gear, donned brand-new HK416s, adjusted their night vision goggles, tested encrypted communications, and loaded their new magazines. Jack and his assistant gunner, on the other hand, treated the M134 like a sacred relic, meticulously inspecting, assembling, and testing it, carefully loading the long ammunition belts into the ammunition boxes.

Locke walked to the side, opened his tactical tablet, and once again reviewed the outrageously detailed structural diagram of Xie Yunchuan's villa and the defense deployment intelligence. His finger lightly tapped the red dot on the screen representing Xie Yunchuan's bedroom.

The tools are ready, and the prey's location is clear.

Now, all that's left is for the hunter to take position and pull the trigger.

Under the starry desert sky, the aura of steel and slaughter quietly permeates the air.