Gaspare's stealth skills were at least proficient, as he could even sneak around during the day.
Even with Jack's careful observation, he didn't detect much movent. After a while, his head appeared in the bushes closest to the four.
Seeing Gaspare silently extend his hand in an OK gesture, Jack slowly went out of his hiding place, knelt on one knee, and raised his hands to fire in a standard kneeling position, aiming his gun at the four busy bandits.
Bang!
One of the bandits facing him reached for his AK on his back, but before he could finish his sentence, his skull was blown off.
The other three, startled, reacted quickly. Turning around, they saw only Jack, holding a pistol. So lunged at the rifle beside them, while others reached for their waists.
Bang~~~Bang~~~
Even with their quick reactions, they couldn't match Jack's firing speed. Two gunshots rang out, almost a second apart. Besides the long-haired man they'd targeted, the other two thugs were also hit in the head, collapsing limply into pools of blood.
Almost simultaneously with Jack's second and third shots, Gaspare, sprang from the bushes and pounced on the long-haired man.
By the ti Jack reached him, the long-haired man was already on the ground, his head slumped to one side. Startled, Jack quickly checked his carotid artery; thankfully, he was only unconscious.
Gaspare was in the army and these terrorists groups don't have much fighting experience compared to a well built army, it was like an adult bullying children.
"Couldn't you have gone a little easier?" Jack, relieved, worried about an accident. He'd already shot the other three in the head; if this one died too, there would be no survivors.
"I didn't even use any force, this guy is too weak." Gaspare looked at his arm with a puzzled expression, seemingly a little guilty.
Jack glanced suspiciously at Gaspare, before letting it go.
They bound the long-haired man's hands and feet with shoelaces and tossed him aside. The two then began cleaning up the battlefield and collecting loot.
True to their guerrilla-style terrorist organization, the four n had four rifles, each a different model.
The long-haired man's rifle looked brand new, like an M4 carbine, but it was actually a copy of an Arican design.
The second was a Russian-made AK, with a chro-plated barrel and a folding stock, looking like an old product from a bygone era.
The third was also a US export rifle. Jack had handled the semi-automatic version of this before, and the feel was far superior to the M16.
The last one was an original M16A1, and also the worst maintained. Not only was the barrel covered in rust, but the rifling was almost worn away.
Jack wasn't surprised. These models were military aid donated by two countries at different tis.
The Philippines has a population of over 100 million, but its industry is extrely underdeveloped; it cannot produce its own firearms and ammunition. During the five-month war in Marawi, the two major powers each donated a batch of small arms and ammunition to the country free of charge.
Clearly, these weapons ending up in the hands of these terrorists were either captured or involved in so unknown dealings.
There were also two pistols. One, an M1911, looked to be in decent condition, with a spare magazine. The other, Jack couldn't even recognize the model of; it looked like a homade copy, completely rusted.
This is the power of the tropical climate combined with the island environnt; even cold weapons, without proper maintenance, can rust into scrap tal in just a few days.
Fortunately, the magazines for the M16 and the US rifle are interchangeable. Jack removed the magazine and threw the broken gun, along with the three corpses, into the jungle.
He also had two slightly rusty machetes; at least he'd have sothing to clear the way when he returned to the jungle.
Soon, Captain Torrance and the others returned, this ti traveling almost in a straight line, taking less than 20 minutes.
Although the bodies had been cleared away, the stench of blood still sent shivers down the spines of the passengers, who had never experienced a battlefield before.
"My God, that was horrible."
"How could those guys be so barbaric?"
"Why are there such terrifying places in this world? I want to go ho."
Fortunately, the rest were mostly normal people; aside from so being overly frightened, no one jumped out to accuse Jack and Gaspare of their previous inaction.
Although they were hundreds of ters away and couldn't see clearly, the impact of the beheading was still too strong for ordinary people.
Especially when soone approached the spot where the man had been held down and saw the long, reddish-black trail of blood on the ground, they couldn't help but vomit.
Chingchong blood has flown. The clear irony of a Chingchong person dying in the place where his country smuggled their weapons for the destruction of this place.
JJ ca to Jack, hugged him, and took the Glock he offered, managing a gentle smile.
"Are you alright?"
"No."
Jack's answer startled her, then she saw him roll up his sleeve, revealing nurous swollen bumps.
He never wanted to crawl through bushes again.
"Who knows how to use a gun?" Jack patted his rifle; he personally preferred another model.
"I used to fly transport planes in the Royal Air Force and have so basic training," Captain Torrance volunteered.
The lone young man also volunteered, saying he knew how to use a gun. Jack handed him an M1911; judging by his relatively practiced movents, he shouldn't have to worry about accidentally injuring himself or others.
Next ca the interrogation.
"Can you speak English?" The long-haired man, who had been unconscious, was jolted awake by several slaps from Gaspare.
"Yes, a little."
The guy's accent was a bit strange, but barely understandable.
"It's up to you." Gaspare, holding the original AK, walked aside to observe the surroundings.
Most of the won kept their distance, gathering around JJ, whispering occasionally. A few were being comforted by their husbands, clearly still emotionally unstable.
Two female college students seed bolder, standing to the side with a few n watching the commotion. Captain Torrance and Jack squatted down in front of the long-haired man to begin the interrogation.
"Na?"
"Lonnu."
"What organization are you from?"
"Abu Sayyaf."
Jack and Captain Torrance exchanged a glance; they had indeed guessed correctly.
[A/n: Here the OG author said sothing about Chingchong guns being superior in a subtle way, but the most fascinating thing was them giving the weapons free of charge to the place MC is currently in(forgot the na). When I changed the beheaded guy into Chingchong, I was just doing normally, just opposing the racism .
But the the irony part which I wrote did make laugh. Not for the killing. Bit for the cycle it finished. A chingchong guy dying in a place where his country sent weapons for locals to kill themselves.
A bit of dark humor.]
User Comments
0 comments from readers