Crushed: The Arrival of ABZ
The open space in front of the Wild Dog Gang's stronghold was now a chaotic mess. The engines of dilapidated cars roared and coughed, their headlights haphazardly cutting through the murky air in the dim light.
Twenty or thirty members of the Wild Dog Gang, like a swarm of enraged but disorganized wasps, were scrambling haphazardly onto a few barely drivable cars, pickup trucks, and a few roaring motorcycles. Shouts, urging, the clanging of metal weapons, and the sweet, pungent smoke from burning marijuana mingled together, creating a chaotic, violent, yet unmistakably low-class scene of a marching expedition.
Delong was already seated in the driver's seat of his flame-painted Camaro, the engine roaring low like the boiling rage in his chest.
His good hand gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white, and his bloodshot eyes stared intently through the dirty windshield at the bumpy side road leading to the main road.
Only one thought occupied his mind, a thought ignited by humiliation and madness: find those Asia, kill them, in the most brutal way! He could almost see that grinning Asia kid begging for mercy at his feet, and the image made his injured fingers throb with excitement.
"Hurry up! Damn it! All of you, hurry up!" Delong rolled down the car window and roared at his men who were still dawdling outside, "When we get there, anyone who chickens out, I'll be the first to shoot him!"
His men sped up a bit after his shout, but their efficiency remained low. Some were still checking the bullets in their guns, others were shoving and cursing each other over who should sit in the passenger seat, and two who were clearly drunk were leaning against the car door, their eyes glazed over, oblivious to the surrounding noise.
Just then--
"Buzz--!!!"
Not one car, but three deep, powerful, and oppressive engine roars, like three steel beasts suddenly leaping out of a dark jungle, coming without warning from around the corner at the end of the side road! The sound grew louder and louder, its speed astonishing, instantly tearing apart the chaotic clamor of the Wild Dog Gang's gathering place!
Delong suddenly felt a chill run down his spine, a sense of foreboding washing over him. He instinctively looked up towards the source of the sound.
It's too late.
Three massive, jet-black Land Rover Range Rover vehicles, resembling mobile fortresses with their square, angular fronts and overwhelming presence, surged out from around the corner, exuding a brutal, crushing aura. Their headlights were off, only the faint parking lights on the hoods casting cold lines in the dim light. Their speed was terrifying; they showed no sign of slowing down, not even turning, but simply, with a destructive resolve, hurtled straight towards the Wild Dog Gang gang gathered in the open space!
"FUCK!!" "Car!!" "Get out of the way!!"
Screams and gasps erupted almost simultaneously.
But it all happened in the blink of an eye.
"Bang--!!!"
"Bang--!!!"
A dull, teeth-grinding crash, the deafening clang of twisting metal, and the shattering of glass instantly drowned out all other sounds.
An old Chevrolet pickup truck, unable to avoid a collision and about to start, was struck squarely on the right rear by the front right corner of the Land Rover! The pickup, like a tin can kicked by a giant, rolled sideways, its doors dented and windows shattered. The two members of the Wild Dog Gang inside didn't even have time to scream before they rolled away with the vehicle, their fate unknown.
Another henchman, who was standing at the edge of the open space, clearly bumped into something too high and reacted a beat too slowly, was hit head-on by the front of the Land Rover in the middle!
He didn't even make a dodging motion; his body flew out like a rag doll, tracing a brief arc in the air before crashing heavily onto a rusty container a few meters away with a dull thud. He slid softly to the ground and fell silent.
Three Land Rover, like three red-hot daggers, plunged viciously into the chaotic, unsuspecting mire of the Wild Dog Gang gang. The impact, the sudden braking, the tires screeching against the pavement, leaving charred marks. The vehicles hadn't even come to a complete stop yet—
"Splash! Splash! Splash!"
Three cars, with six heavy front and rear doors, were suddenly pushed open and flung to their maximum size almost simultaneously!
A shadowy figure.
Like ghostly, swift, and silent shadows, they leaped out of each Land Rover in succession.
Their movements were perfectly synchronized, without the slightest hesitation. There were twelve people in total, all dressed in dark, unmarked combat uniforms and wearing combat boots.
Their faces were either covered by black skull masks or painted with dark green and black camouflage paint, revealing only pairs of cold, indifferent eyes devoid of any human emotion.
Each person held an automatic rifle steadily in their hand—some were compact AKS-74Us with heat-insulating cloth wrapped around their barrels, while others were M4 carbines equipped with vertical grips and simple reflex sights. The muzzles were naturally lowered, but their fingers rested on the trigger guards, and their bodies were slightly leaning forward, maintaining a combat posture ready to fire at any moment.
After getting out of the vehicle, without shouting, warning, or even exchanging glances, they immediately used the vehicle as a base to automatically split into three combat teams, forming a crossfire coverage. Their movements were so skillful and their coordination so perfect that it seemed they had practiced it a thousand times, exuding a chilling aura of a professional army, completely different from street thugs.
The open space was deathly silent. Only the low hum of an engine and the faint groans of the injured could be heard.
The Wild Dog Gang were completely stunned by the sudden terrorist attack. One second they were shouting that they were going out to kill people, and the next they were knocked off their feet by the steel behemoth. Then, a group of killing gods who seemed to have stepped out of a war movie appeared before them. Fear, like a cold, venomous snake, instantly coiled around everyone's heart.
"Fuck! It's the Vietnamese Gang! ABZ!!" Finally, a Wild Dog Gang leader who had once witnessed ABZ in action from afar during a shootout recognized the vague physical features beneath their combat uniforms and their unique, silent, and efficient killing style, letting out a distorted scream filled with despair.
That scream was like the final death knell.
The next instant, gunshots rang out!
"Da da da da--!!!"
"Bang bang bang! Bang bang bang!"
No bursts, no warnings. The automatic rifles spat out scorching flames, bullets pouring out like a torrent, leaving brief but deadly streaks of light across the dimly lit open ground!
Metal shell casings rained down on the asphalt and the Land Rover with a clanging sound.
A scream, a real, heart-wrenching scream, instantly replaced the previous clamor.
The bullets pierced flesh mercilessly, making dull "thud" sounds. Blood blossomed in the dim light, and one figure after another fell like wheat being cut down.
Some tried to raise their shotguns or pistols to fight back, but they were often riddled with bullets by several precise short bursts as soon as they raised their guns.
Some tried to hide behind the vehicles, but bullets easily pierced the thin doors and sheet metal, pinning them to the spot. Others completely broke down, dropping their weapons and trying to run into the factory while covering their heads, only to be swept away by bullets fired from the side.
This was a one-sided, utter massacre. ABZ's firepower, accuracy, and tactical coordination completely overwhelmed the rabble of the Wild Dog Gang. Their shooting was extremely efficient, aiming for lethality and never wasting ammunition. Although the gunfire was dense, it was not chaotic, but rather carried a cold, rhythmic quality.
The smoke and the smell of blood quickly filled the air, thick and suffocating.
In less than a minute, the gunfire began to thin out.
In the open space, there was almost no one left standing.
Beside the doors of the three Land Rover, the ABZ members remained in firing positions, their gun barrels slowly moving to scan the battlefield. Once they confirmed there was no obvious threat, the gunfire completely ceased.
But the work isn't over yet.
One of the ABZ members, who appeared to be the leader, made a simple sign language gesture.
The twelve men sprang into action immediately. Working in pairs, they began to clean up the battlefield silently and efficiently. With guns at their sides, they moved with tactical steps toward each corpse and wounded person, whether curled up, lying prone, or supine on the ground.
Seeing that he was still convulsing and groaning, he didn't hesitate, raised his hand, and fired the finishing shot.
"Bang!"
"Bang!"
Clean and efficient, every shot fatal. Bullets mostly hit the head or heart, ensuring complete death. There was no interrogation, no pity, not even a lingering glance. It was as if they weren't cleaning up human corpses, but a pile of potentially dangerous garbage to be disposed of.
The sound of follow-up shots echoed across the deathly silent open space, each one intensifying the pervasive atmosphere of death.
Delong's Camaro was lucky to escape direct hit in the initial collision, but it was forced to stop at the edge of the open space. At that moment, the driver's side door was kicked open with a combat boot covered in blood and grease.