The Beirut port area was now sounding the alarm.
After eliminating the Mossad agents in the two SUVs, Song Heping turned to the car that hadn't been destroyed, and reached to pull at the trunk.
The car was damaged, locked, and wouldn't open.
He raised his hand and fired two shots at the latch, opening the door crudely and simply.
The trunk was filled with tactical gear, just as he had expected.
He quickly equipped himself with various individual soldier supplies...
Submachine gun, bullets, hand grenades.
Also a combat vest, bullet-proof plate...
Now that things have escalated, relying on just the Glock 17 in his hand was absolutely insufficient; he had to be ard to the teeth to have a chance of survival.
After grabbing the gear, preparing the canvas backpack, Song Heping looked up at the night sky, raised his middle finger to the air, and mouthed the words -
"FUCK! Co on, bastard!"
He knew the drone operator must have already focused the cara on him, reading his lips.
But he didn't care.
What he wanted now was to draw all the CIA and Mossad agents to himself.
This was the original tactical plan he had formulated.
Kelly wanted to fish.
Song Heping offered himself as the bait.
But he put a crocodile behind Kelly.
After grabbing the gear and taunting the drone, Song Heping turned and ran towards the dock's container area, where it connected to the south gate. The container area could conceal his whereabouts as much as possible, facilitating combat with the superior forces of Mossad.
Everything he had worried about was happening.
Mossad indeed intervened in the incident at the request of the CIA.
Daishe Bird indeed was Arica's good daddy.
The son is in trouble, of course, the father will step in.
Rust-colored containers ford a steel maze in the twilight, Song Heping's back pressed against the cold tal wall, his right-hand fingers lightly brushing the diamond anti-slip pattern of the MP5 submachine gun.
The salty sea breeze swept past the abrasion behind his ear that hadn't healed, bringing a fiery sting, but this pain only made his pupils contract more sharply - at twelve o'clock direction, the third row of the container's top vent flashed half a shadow.
He counted his heartbeats as he waited.
When the second shadow appeared at three o'clock direction, the submachine gun suddenly shot out from under his arm, three rapid shots tearing through the damp air.
A scream fell from the top of the fifteen-ter-high container, hitting the cent ground with a dull thud.
Almost simultaneously, guns fired from three directions, tracer bullets plowing through the container's surface forming dazzling grooves.
"Seven-man crossfire formation." Song Heping rolled into the shadows close to the ground, bullets gnawed at the ground chasing his heels.
He tore open the side pocket of his combat vest, two hand grenade safety pins popped off simultaneously.
He let the two hand grenades stay in his palm for an extra second, until his peripheral vision caught the green glow of a night vision device flashing through the container gap on his left, then he accurately threw the grenades, letting them roll precisely under the enemy's feet.
This was not difficult to do.
In the past when practicing precise hand grenade throws, Song Heping's hand got swollen several tis.
Now, every skill he learned was coming into use.
The closed space exploded with a hail of steel beads, and Song Heping had already crashed into the opposite container aisle.
Mossad operatives had high tactical proficiency.
But they hadn't seen such a desperate fighting style.
Song Heping threw hand grenades at dangerously close distances!
If anything went wrong, even a tiny mistake, he himself would be done for!
The narrow container stacking area provided no opportunity to dodge, several agents were directly blown away, and Song Heping heard the muffled sound of bodies hitting the tal outside the corner where he hid. A Mossad agent stumbled into the container.
He would be disoriented from the outside explosion, feeling as if his soul was leaving his body.
But subconsciously, he continued to chase Song Heping, running towards the container Song Heping entered.
He thought Song Heping had already fled, not expecting to almost collide with him at the corner.
The two were less than a ter apart face-to-face.
He wanted to raise his MP5 submachine gun for a fierce attack, eliminating the ghostly enemy in front of him.
But Song Heping was faster, his silenced pistol had already pierced through the gunman's throat.
Pfft pfft -
Blood sprayed from the neck and back of the head, the Mossad agent's body knelt, slowly sliding to the ground against the container.
The container corridor suddenly fell into a dead silence, except for the sound of blood dripping on the floor.
Song Heping's temples throbbed, he could sll the strange mixture of diesel and fresh brain matter.
His tactical boots carefully avoided the bullet casings on the ground, but on the fifth step, he stepped on sothing soft - half a finger wearing a wedding ring, the severed end still twitching neurogenically.
Clearly, these were the handiwork of the two grenades earlier...
Once close-quarters combat (CQB) falls into a entangle, it's more brutal than outdoor combat.
"Three minutes."
He glanced at his watch, the blue light from the LCD screen illuminating the tense lines of his lower jaw. The encrypted channel's electrical noise ca through the earpiece: the agreed-upon countdown.
If he stalled for a few more minutes, Disaster Star would take action...
Kelly's n must have been dispatched here to hunt him down.
If that's true, her life might soon be hanging by a thread.
Suddenly, dense footsteps were heard from the top of the container, like a pack of wolves running wildly on the iron sheet.
Song Heping gently pulled out a shock bomb, carefully pulled the pin, then cautiously moved forward along the container, trying not to make any noise.
Those people would surely head towards the explosion site, all he needed to do was wait on the necessary path.
Finally, when the footsteps were ten ters away from him, the shock bomb in his hand flew into the air, the delayed fuse exploding two ters from the container's top.
After a blinding white light, he saw six figures wearing gas masks screaming in chaos, one was holding a submachine gun sweeping around frantically, shooting blindly relying on feel to ensure his safety.
The MP5's roller-delayed blowback system showcased its superiority in continuous shooting, Song Heping moved himself backward leisurely like a leopard while keeping the MP5 submachine gun aid at the top.
When the first Mossad operative's head appeared in sight, Song Heping pressed the trigger without hesitation, sending a deadly point shot.
The guy let out a scream, followed by silence, his body rolling down from the top of the container, hitting the ground heavily.
Song Heping followed with two short bursts, sending off two more who were trying to climb down the container, doing this wasn't hard.
The opponents were currently affected by the shock bomb, their vision and reactions were considerably slowed, while he acted like a cunning Grim Reaper, circling the containers, sending them one by one to their destined place.
Yet, unforeseen things always happen.
Even Song Heping wasn't exempt.
During the fourth point shot, his gun jamd!
This indeed surprised Song Heping.
The MP5 submachine gun known for its reliability jamd?!
This was simply unbelievable!
Just a slight jam, but a Mossad agent on top of the container already responded, his gun pointing swift to Song Heping's position!
At the sa ti, the barrel spat out a string of dark red flas.
Rat-tat-tat -
Rat-tat-tat -
He relentlessly rained bullets towards Song Heping.
User Comments
0 comments from readers