"Crack!"
The world turned white.
Gitti slowly opened her eyes. mories surged into her mind. Suddenly, she sat up and looked around, only to find herself lying in the middle of a huge square. The sky was filled with dark clouds and flickering lightning.
It looked like.
A torrential downpour was imminent.
She glanced around.
There were people lying all around her, so familiar, so unfamiliar.
In the distance.
Dim lights were on. She could vaguely see rows and rows of houses built around the square. Further beyond was an enclosure wall nearly ten stories high, adding to the eerie atmosphere.
"Where is this?"
Gitti murmured.
She was puzzled.
"Creak!"
There was a noise behind her.
She turned her head.
An iron door was slowly opening. Three people walked in from outside, dressed in black, their belts cinched at the waist, footsteps synchronized. Seeing these three, Gitti couldn’t help but feel nervous.
"Prison."
Her first thought.
This style.
Only a prison.
Guards.
High walls.
And a cluster of small houses. Who on earth was behind this? And what did they want? Besides, where exactly was she? She’d never heard of a global prison with a wall ten stories high. It was nowhere to be found in her mory.
"Tap, tap!"
The three people stepped closer.
"Who are you?"
Gitti asked.
No one answered her. Each carried a plastic device resembling a gun, pointing it at the fainted individuals on the ground, at arms or necks, and after a tremor like an electric shock.
Their subordinates woke up one by one.
A rough count.
There were nearly two hundred people.
"Who used an anesthetic gun on ?"
Soone thought it was a prank.
"My neck hurts. Who ambushed ?" A large African man rubbed his neck, having been knocked out while using the toilet. He thought it was a prank too.
Strong punch.
Usually very low-key, with few enemies.
"Mu Si, weren’t you at the South Africa Training Camp?"
"Kai, weren’t you in Australia?"
"..."
Soon.
Everyone was dumbfounded. What was going on? Why had leaders from across the globe, as well as so action teams, been gathered here in this manner? The last mory they all had was being ambushed.
Fists.
Anesthetic guns.
Drugs.
All sorts of thods, they got hit by all of them.
As for Gitti.
She didn’t step out. As part of the Dark Forces, aside from a few confidants, the one in control couldn’t easily reveal their face. The risk was too great. At the mont, about ten insiders were surrounding Gitti.
Silent.
At this mont.
"Hello, everyone."
A loud voice rang out, even overpowering the noise of nearly a hundred people. Instantly, the scene quieted down, and everyone looked toward the three who were clearly dressed differently.
"Congratulations, from today on, you are our captives."
Upon hearing this.
The whole place erupted.
Captives?
Despite being prepared, it was still hard to accept.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Bastard."
"If you’re capable, speak with your fists."
"..."
Don’t lose face, bolster your presence first. Many people rolled up their sleeves, not caring where this place was, deciding to vent their frustrations first. Even in prison, sotis survival depended on your fists.
"Fine."
The one in the middle said.
Then.
While everyone was stunned, the three figures charged into the crowd.
"Slap."
The person in the front was slapped to the ground.
"Thud!"
A punch.
The second person almost got a concussion.
Counterattack.
Counterattack.
They shouted as they rushed the three.
Threw punches.
"Crack."
The speed of the other side’s hands was extrely fast. Without directly confronting, their hands grazed down to the joint, fingers clasped like an eagle pecking. A pain as if piercing into the bone marrow transmitted to the brain, twisting the face with agony.
And this.
Was rely the beginning.
"Ouch."
"Crack!"
"My hand is dislocated."
"My leg."
"Help."
"My rib."
"..."
Ten minutes later.
On the square.
Not a single person who dared to throw a punch was still standing.
Mourning filled the air.
Nearly one hundred twenty people lost their ability to fight, along with their confidence. They realized that their proud fighting skills were as weak as vegetables, not even a match for the other’s one move.
Speed.
Endurance.
Technique.
Strength.
Completely overwheld in every aspect.
"Hiss~"
Gitti took a deep breath, her calves shaking. A loss ratio of one to forty—unless it was hot weapons against cold weapons, with similar thods, it was simply impossible. Yet it happened right before her eyes.
It had to be accepted.
This scene.
Was too impactful.
"Don’t worry, just a fracture. We’ll set it back for you later. From now on, rember your captive status. Be a captive with dignity and awareness."
This statent.
Left everyone feeling ashad.
Dignity.
What dignity does a captive have?
Resignation?
Probably, losing to such strength wasn’t unfair.
"In the future, this will be your place of residence. Houses surrounding you, each with a serial number. Do not occupy others’. As for how to find your match, check the serial number on the back of your hand."
Upon hearing this.
Everyone noticed a string of green characters, made of letters and numbers, tattooed on the back of their hands. It was just like that, and they didn’t mind. Many people here were covered in tattoos.
"The rules here are simple—obey, or you will be deed worthless. What happens to soone without value, you can imagine for yourselves, or ask the senior mbers."
"Earlier was the first and only ti you attacked us without consequence. From now on, attacking a manager, no matter win or lose, will leave a lasting impression."
A minute later.
"Ouch."
"Crack."
"It hurts."
"..."
With everyone’s horrified expressions, the three almost systematically went around setting bones. With such familiarity, one had to wonder, dear big shots, just how many people did you have to break to get this good?
Instantly.
Everyone felt a chill down their spine.
Terrifying.
Utterly terrifying.
What kind of people were these? How many of their kind had fallen prey to them? Not long after, everyone regained the ability to move. Though there was an aching pain, it was clear no serious harm was done.
Standing up.
They looked at the three with complex eyes.
Legend.
If they were to tell this, no one would believe them.
"Form a row of three, stand back. Won in one line, n in two." Since Gitti was a woman, naturally, Strong Punch had many won, especially at Headquarters, with nearly sixty present.
All orphans.
Without ties.
Otherwise.
Who would risk their lives doing this work.
At this mont.
No one dared to question, obediently forming three rows. Gitti stood in the middle of the lineup, not too conspicuous. Then, the three rows followed the trio out the door, finally seeing more of the surroundings.
A long path.
Nearly a kiloter long.
On both sides.
Were the sa design as just now: a central square, surrounding rooms, presumably for recreation. At this mont, the other detention areas were not empty, but lit.
By the main gate’s fence.
Many people were watching.
Wearing blue... prison clothes?
It seed like.
"More newcors."
"Quite a lot."
"I wonder which unlucky organization provoked these monsters, getting wiped out."
"Pitiful."
"..."
With the superiority of the ’predecessors’, they completely forgot they were once in the sa position too.
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