Three bursts of gunfire, two aid at two Ata ard mbers, and a short double-tap hitting Curtis.
Seeing it was Willie, Song Heping finally breathed a sigh of relief.
At this point, his head and body were completely soaked, as if soone had dumped a bucket of water over him.
In highly intense situations, dopamine is secreted wildly, body temperature rises, and more sweat is produced.
After changing the magazine, Song Heping cursed, "He took half a day just to deal with two guys!?"
The implication was that he was cursing Willie for taking so long to show up.
He had already signaled him when employing the rapid infiltration tactics, even though he didn't elaborate on the details.
But an old guy like Willie should understand what was going on and know what he had to do.
Willie didn't dare talk back.
Because when he saw the bodies all over the ground, his heart was filled with nothing but shock.
Before this mission, he had grumbled about the leadership.
Niki recomnded Song Heping for this job, and Willie was firmly against it.
There are many PMC companies.
And their quality is uneven.
How could a PMC team that rose just a few years ago handle such a difficult task?
If they were to hire soone, it should be the core combat squad of a company like Black Water.
Let alone it being a team led by a person from China.
That was even less viable, not to ntion impossible.
Now he understood.
He had been shallow...
There really is a higher sky and outsiders beyond this world.
Willie weighed the situation in his mind, knowing he himself couldn't possibly kill that many Ata mbers simultaneously.
Song Heping not only did it, but he also survived.
It was nothing short of miraculous!
"SORRY… I was a bit slow just now."
Willie softened, shrugged his shoulders, imdiately apologized, then approached Curtis with his gun raised.
Curtis was not dead.
When Willie shot him, he deliberately aid the gun slightly downwards.
The bullets hit the other party's abdon.
Lieutenant Curtis was currently lying on the ground, his body curled up like a big shrimp, the pain distorting his face significantly.
"Kill... kill ..."
Song Heping had just finished checking the wounds and walked out when he heard this sentence.
He stepped forward and frowned.
Although he knew Willie was secretly sent by the military to kill Curtis, turning him into a "martyr," he thought shooting him dead on the spot was enough; there was no need to deliberately aim at the abdon to leave him half-dead.
The intense pain from damaged organs is agonizing, making life worse than death.
However, this was an Arican internal matter, and he did not wish to intervene, simply standing by with his gun at the ready.
"Make it quick, Ata reinforcents might arrive soon, we need to go."
He reminded Willie not to dawdle here.
Villains die from talking too much.
Heroes, too, die from talking too much.
Willie nodded: "Got it."
He glanced at Song Heping again: "How are your wounds?"
Song Heping patted his bulletproof vest: "It was blocked, I won't die."
Willie was relieved, his gaze turned back to Curtis on the ground.
Curtis suddenly endured the pain and reached for his gun.
His gun had fallen to the side when he was struck down.
This action was essentially begging for death.
He knew that US Special Forces would not let him go.
Because of him, a whole ODA detachnt from Special Operations Command was compromised.
Anyone would find that intolerable.
Even if he was the son of a congressman.
Willie kicked the gun farther away, suddenly drew an Alaskan whaling harpoon survival knife, and approached Curtis.
"You deserve to die, but you should die the way you are supposed to!"
After saying that, he stepped on Curtis's head, pressing his skull hard against the ground, and then swung the survival knife vigorously.
Pu-chi—
The knife plunged directly into Curtis's neck, piercing his carotid artery.
Song Heping witnessed everything from the side, his brows furrowing even tighter.
He thought this might be a form of a punitive ritual.
For Special Forces, punishnt of traitors often involves unique thods, bizarrely odd but not surprising.
Perhaps Willie hated Curtis for causing the death of his comrades, which led him to adopt such a grueso thod to deal with the traitor.
Regardless, Song Heping also felt it was not excessive.
After all, he despised traitors intensely.
"Hehehe—"
Blood gushed from Lieutenant Curtis's mouth, spurting out in large amounts.
His body jerked in vain, twisting futilely.
But with the massive pressure from Willie's foot and his own severe, near-death condition, this struggle seed powerless and comical, like a gazelle desperately being gnawed and torn apart in the jaws of a lion...
The blood did not completely splatter.
Because the knife had not been pulled out.
Willie slowly applied pressure to the edge of the knife.
Blood gushed from the wound in the neck, like a plastic water pipe that had been punctured.
Then, without stopping, as Curtis's helpless groans continued, Willie gradually applied more pressure to his wrist, letting the blade begin to cut through the neck tissue little by little.
Blood vessels, windpipe, esophagus, muscle tissue...
This act of slaughtering, as if dealing with an animal, made even Song Heping unable to help but take a sidelong glance.
He suddenly felt that sothing was wrong.
This seed a bit too much.
"Willie, what are you doing? Can't you give these poor bastards a quick death?"
"I'm doing the right thing."
"We are short on ti."
"I know, but this is sothing I must do."
Having said that, he applied even more force with his hand.
Song Heping saw Lieutenant Curtis's neck being sliced open by Willie like a sausage.
"This is a fine knife..."
He sighed inwardly, deciding to get one for himself after returning.
Willie's movents were skilled.
It was clear they were well-versed in human anatomy, where the blade should go, how to cut to avoid bones, sever tendons, and nerves...
Everything was so smooth.
One minute later, Lieutenant Curtis beca a headless corpse.
Willie lifted the head and placed it beside Damir, then took out his mobile phone, opened the cara function, and started filming the severed head on the ground.
After filming the head, he shot the surrounding Ata militants' dead bodies scattered all over, and then zood in on Damir for a close-up before finally finishing and discreetly putting away his phone.
"Fuck, are you filming this as a nto or for records?"
This ti, Song Heping was truly shocked.
He had seen the perverse, but not to this extent.
"We have to explain the cause of death for Lieutenant Curtis when we go back," Willie indifferently packed his things and then spoke calmly: "What do you think would be a good way to present him to the Arican people?"
Song Heping was stunned for a mont but then understood.
Fuck...
Willie could completely make up a story when he got back.
That he arrived just in ti to find Lieutenant Curtis brutally decapitated by Ata militants, then the military could posthumously award him dals, boast in the news how he was such a hero, and then Congressman Curtis could only accept the bad news that his only son had been beheaded by terrorists.
And the military?
They had avenged him, also preventing Lieutenant Curtis from going out to expose the truth, avoiding the embarrassnt of causing the White House and the Pentagon old guys to lose face.
Perfect!
Could there be anything more perfect?!
Bringing him back?
Don't even think about it!
That was only what the Congressman wished for, but the military was not willing to do so.
Otherwise, if people who knew the inside story spread it within the military, how would they lead?
Soldiers and civilian politicians sotis view the issue so differently, not even on the sa plane.
Five minutes later, Song Heping and Willie were packed and left the area, disappearing again into the dark night.
Ten more minutes passed.
Suddenly, a few shadows appeared in the woods.
In the darkness, these people were like ghosts.
"Vulture One has reached the firefight location."
"Imdiately search for the target, report back, Teams Two and Three are nearby, request reinforcents if needed."
"Understood."
As the shadows arrived at the site of the firefight, they slowly fanned out in a search formation and circled the woods.
Then they found no living person here.
Only bodies.
And shell casings.
"Vulture One to Satan."
"Receiving, go ahead."
"No survivors..."
He walked over to Curtis's body, took a close look, and then turned to find the head placed not far away on the ground.
Afterward, he walked over to the head, looked at it for a few seconds, then took off his night vision goggles, crouched down, and examined Willie's "masterpiece."
The cold moonlight filtered through the treetops and fell on the ground, clearly illuminating Curtis's features.
By now, due to total blood loss, the skin on Lieutenant Curtis's head had turned pale blue-white, shone upon by the moonlight, it looked like the color of a body that had been soaked in water for several days and turned pale.
The shadow felt a bit nauseous after observing for a mont, then stood up and reported on the communication channel: "Vulture One to Satan, the target is dead, has been decapitated, rescue mission failed."
"Then carry out the second task."
"Received."
The conversation ended, and the leading shadow put the night vision goggles back on, waved his hand, and all of them quickly left the scene, disappearing into the darkness again.
The woods beca quiet once more as if nothing had happened, only the bodies on the ground silently told of the earlier atrocity.
30 minutes later, an Ata Organization mber team arrived at the location.
But it seed too late.
They could only collect the bodies, there was nothing else they could do.
User Comments
0 comments from readers