Long-term salvation

47 reloaded the bullets in his beloved gun, Silver Dancer, and thought that the other party must have mistaken him for a bodyguard - there was a security guard in the hotel, but he should be sleeping naked in the trash can now - perhaps because of the security uniform he was wearing. What's worse is that the ICA received a large commission, which caused all the killers under its command to take action.

In other words, 47 still has to face fellow travelers from the same organization.

47 carefully stuck his head out and then retracted it, and the next second, the hiding place was indeed covered by a hail of bullets... The gunshots sounded like the sound of an FN FAL automatic rifle, and he didn't want to try the power of the 7.62×51mm bullet.

At this point, 47 had no choice but to retreat. If he walked any slower, he would probably be stuck here. Otherwise, he would become a tattered doll like the corpse at the door of the room - the first to arrive but the fastest to die.

Time seemed to stand still for half a second, and then 47 heard a terrifying voice:

It was the sound of a giant tearing the sails apart, the strange sound of cloth being torn mixed with the panicked shouts from the opposite side, the machine gun spewed out lava-like tongues of fire, melting the walls and everything in its path into destruction, the fire was so dazzling that it almost dyed the corridor a brilliant orange!

Amidst this terrifying roar, 47, who hadn't been attacked, stopped in his tracks. After a few seconds of thought, he turned sideways, carefully choosing his words, and shouted loudly:

"I'm a security guard at the hotel. Don't fire! I can prove it!"

As he spoke, 47 boldly leaned halfway out, witnessing a scene he would never forget: a petite, silver-haired girl, holding an MG42 general-purpose machine gun with her back to him, firing towards the other end of the corridor. Facing him was a petite, blonde-haired girl. Her arms folded across her chest, and from the shadows behind her emerged two tentacles, each holding an M134 Minigun Gatling gun.

"I don't believe it," the blonde girl said.

The barrel began to spin.

47:"……"

Thanks to his genetically modified body, 47 shrank back before half of his body was smashed. Without hesitation, he turned around and ran back the way he came.

Just as he turned the corner, he was knocked to the ground by a punch - in a slight daze, 47 raised his hand and shot the figure in the suit, but the latter slightly turned his body back like Agent Smith in "The Matrix" and avoided the fatal blow!

The next second, a ferocious kick came with a whistling sound, striking 47's chest as he raised his hands and folded them. The killer, barely able to resist, rolled on the ground a few times to dissipate the force. Ignoring the dull pain in his arm, he spun around, raised his pistol, and fired!

The bullet hit the corridor ceiling, causing dust to fly down and land on the silver-haired man who was holding 47's gun wrist. The latter was wearing a black eyepatch, and his eyes were full of surprise, but then a hint of amusement:

"ICA assassin, 47? How interesting! Who hired you?"

"..."

47 struggled to break free. A dazzling light flashed between his hands, and a thin yet resilient fiber thread sliced ​​through the air, wrapping around Rhode's right hand. The next second, 47 felt himself being dragged and thrown against the wall of the corridor next to him. His back collided with the solid wall, causing him to subconsciously squeeze out a few painful groans through his teeth. However, he was in no mood to pay attention to his internal organs screaming in pain.

He immediately moved away, and the wall was dented by the punch, and the wallpaper was wrinkled underneath... 47 didn't want to know what the result would be if this punch hit him.

What's going on with this mission?! This target isn't Irons' illegitimate son, but a cyborg warrior from Atlas Corporation, right?!

"Shh... This really hurts a bit. Luckily I'm wearing gloves. I feel like my physical fitness has improved a bit."

Rhode reached out to straighten his tie and looked at the bald killer who had drawn a dagger. The killer's expression remained unchanged, but his breathing had become much more rapid. Thinking about the man's life and personality, Rhode made a bolder decision:

"Diana Burnwood, your partner, has told you about her plans to leave the ICA?"

"..."

Seeing 47's facial muscles relax slightly, Rhode's smile deepened. He stretched his aching fingers and slowly walked towards the killer, saying as he walked:

"Ask your partner if she wants to know who killed her parents. She'll want to know, just like you, after your memory was wiped, want to know about your past—who am I, where do I come from, where am I going—those three questions you're struggling with, 47."

"...your conditions."

47 exhaled slowly, taking in the face of the man in front of him—he looked younger and more handsome than in the intelligence picture, wearing a black suit, a dark red tie, a pure white shirt, and black gloves. With a playful smile on his face, he looked like himself from another world.

At first glance, he was just a flamboyant young man, consistent with the identity in the intelligence, but if you looked closely, you could detect the inhuman temperament of the person in front of you... No, that was not inhuman, but transcendent, otherworldly.

His thoughts were a little confused. 47 slowly stepped back, gripping the dagger in his hand tightly, his eyes swept across the Silver Dancer pistol on the ground.

"Work for me, and of course your partner, too. Let's do something meaningful," Rhodes laughed. He clenched his fists and walked towards the killer. "But now, you have to survive from my hands first. I don't like a bald guy staring at me every day."

Before he finished speaking, Rhodes suddenly rushed forward, the dagger flashing with metallic light spinning in his palm, and the blades touched and burst out bright sparks, but it was only this time of contact - Rhodes let go of the dagger, grabbed 47's shoulder with his left hand, and after slightly exerting force on his right knee, he hit the latter's soft abdomen!

47 vomited some gastric juice and arched his body, but before he could react, he was hit by another uppercut!

The bald killer spun in mid-air and fell, knocking over a large porcelain vase in the corridor, spilling the water and flowers inside onto the corridor.

"That bald guy's reaction speed is really fast." Rhode reached out and touched the bloodstain on his cheek. If he hadn't tilted his head, the wound would have appeared on his neck. "Don't do this again next time. If you capsize in the gutter, you might be ridiculed by Nyasa for tens of millions of years."

Rhodes squatted beside the unconscious bald killer, took out a note, wrote down a satellite phone number on it, and then stuffed the note into 47's inner pocket.

Then, Rod dragged the killer's body and threw it to a place where no one would pay attention to him, just like James Bond.

"Okay, now let's go check on Director Plessy. I hope his driving skills are really that good... Hina, how are you guys doing?"

[The enemy has been scared away, but they will definitely come again]

"It's okay. Let's meet up in the underground parking lot first. I hope these killers don't plant a bomb in our car."

Chapter 192: Paris: A Time of Turbulence and Despair (3K)

After temporarily repelling the killers and meeting up with the others, Rhodes kicked open the door of the fire escape. After looking down and finding no enemy, he grabbed the railing and jumped down to the next level of railing opposite!

Rhodes climbed up floor after floor, reaching the bottom in less than a minute. After shooting and killing an ICA assassin, he heard a few muffled thuds behind him. They were the girls carrying Director Plessy, Laura, and Bourne—except Abigail, who was dragged down by Pickman by the back of the collar... To some extent, this girl was unexpectedly weak.

"Gee… We're not jumping straight down, but… we could probably just get a rope and rappel down," Director Plessy took a breath, resting his hands on his knees to slow down. "Well, I still hope we can just use the stairs normally."

"Speed ​​is of the essence in war, Director Plessy. Aren't you fond of 'extreme speed'?"

“That’s because I’m well prepared and have enough ability and confidence!”

The director grumbled, but he still walked carefully behind Rhodes with his rifle in hand and ran towards the parking lot.

The parking lot was chilly, with dozens of cars of varying colors and models neatly parked in the spaces, like metal coffins awaiting the return of their occupants. Since the hotel's power had been cut off, only the emergency lights emitted a faint green glow.

Rhodes glanced around and saw no trace of the killers. The man just now was probably just half a step late.

"It's faster to avoid the stairs and elevator, Director."

Rod said with a smile, leaning over to check the car he had driven when he arrived, and then glanced at Director Plessy's Peugeot 407. It was a silver-gray sedan, but compared to the original 2004 model, its body seemed slightly longer and wider.

"We'll split up. Bourne, Director Plessy, and I will take one, and the others will take another. First, we'll keep Laura and you from being noticed, or it will affect your lives later on... Don't worry about me; the stealth suit's bulletproof performance is quite good."

After saying that, Rhode opened the passenger door. As soon as he opened it, he felt that the door was much heavier than that of an ordinary car, as if he was opening an armored vehicle. Noticing the surprise that flashed across Rhode's face, Director Plessy smiled smugly.

"It has a top-of-the-line engine, bulletproof materials, rocket engine acceleration, hidden wings, and airflow deflectors. Oh damn, if I had seen it before I met my wife, I would definitely have married it!"

"...Bourne," Rhodes turned his head and looked at the young man who was still a little confused, and advised kindly, "Fasten your seat belts."

"?"

A thunderous mechanical roar swept through the dim underground parking lot, leaving the belated assassins stunned for half a second - the Peugeot 407 turned on its headlights, and straight and dazzling golden beams of light swept across its silent metal counterparts, casting their shadows on the wall like pouring black ink.

Lightning flashed through the narrow lanes, leaving only a blood-red taillight strip and the pungent exhaust gas.

"..."

Without hesitation, the assassins, having reached a temporary ceasefire, boarded their cars and gave chase. The CIA agents of Operation Treadstone reported to their superiors with some irritation, and were immediately ordered to "find the suspect alive or dead."

So, in Paris today, on this day when white clouds roll in from the horizon.

The streets were filled with people in twos and threes, looking relaxed and at ease. Perhaps it was nearing tea time, or perhaps the office workers were still struggling to make ends meet, so there weren't many cars on the streets, like elderly people on crutches, crawling slowly along the wide road.

A strange sound was getting closer and closer, like a mountain torrent rolling through a canyon, carrying everything in its path.

A taxi driver rolled down his window in confusion as he heard the terrifying sound approaching. The next moment, the taxi's rearview mirror shattered, leaving only fragments swirling in the bright blue sky.

What the hell?! Someone's driving fast in the middle of Paris in broad daylight?!

The driver leaned forward and waved his fist angrily at the grey vehicle, secretly envious in his heart - if he could drive that fast sports car like an arrow, he would definitely tease those nasty policemen who like to squat on the highway to measure speed!

Just as the taxi driver retracted his body, he heard several roars resounding throughout the street. This was the roar of the internal combustion engine madly squeezing its potential, the best performance of the accelerator that would never be released.

However, what followed was the crisp yet chilling sound of intense gunfire - four or five black cars chased the vehicle in front, and people inside would occasionally lean out and attack the targets in front with rifles or by charging.

"Hey, hey, hey, Rod, I didn't know there would be people like this driving a car to chase us!"

Director Plessy shouted loudly, gripping the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, weaving in and out of traffic with extremely consummate driving skills. Even so, bullets would occasionally ping-dong against the rear window, leaving an ugly grayish-white mark on it.

"Are they here to kill you, or the young man behind you?!"

"Both. Welcome to the crazy and exciting world of The Fast and the Furious, Director Plessy!"

Rod rolled down the car window with a laugh, watching the pursuers getting closer and closer in the rearview mirror. He extended his revolver, made a slight adjustment, and fired a few shots. The tire of the chasing vehicle in the front was immediately blown out. The latter stalled and hit the telephone booth on the roadside. Amid the panicked shouts of passers-by, it crashed into the wall of the building. The hood of the car bounced off comically, emitting a choking cloud of burnt black smoke.

"What the hell is that?! I've only ever heard of Mad Max! Putin?!"

Glancing at the rearview mirror, Director Plessy swerved to the right, merging into a branch road and shaking off two of the pursuing cars, but there were still three following closely behind.

The director held the steering wheel with his left hand, moved his right hand, and pressed down from the front of the center armrest. A small device that looked like an airplane joystick slowly extended out, with several big red round buttons on it.

"We'd definitely be on the news right now. My wife would kill me if she saw me... and my father-in-law would put me in a cannon and shoot me out!"

Director Plessy muttered, took a few quick deep breaths, gripped the joystick with his right hand, placed his finger on the button, and said seriously:

"We're going to fly over the Seine! Buy me some time, I need to find a suitable position!"

"How can it fly over there?! And this car is so heavy." Rhodes opened his eyes wide, and his gaze swept over the buildings and vehicles on both sides of the street, only to see faces full of panic and those who were eager to watch the fun.

"You want to fly uphill toward the Quai des Rivers? A diagonal jump across the Seine takes too long, the angle isn't high enough, and the speed isn't high enough. You don't want this car anymore?!"

"Don't worry about it, buy me some time!"

"Okay, okay—Bourne!"

"understand!"

Bourne pressed the window, leaned out a little with his M4 rifle in hand, and with Rhodes on either side, he pulled the trigger at the pursuers. The bullets pierced the untreated front windshield, causing spider-web-like elliptical cracks to instantly spread across the entire car in front. Drops of blood splattered on the shattered glass, and there was no need to investigate whether the driver was alive or dead.

One car was stopped directly and collided with the vehicle next to it, causing the latter to deviate from its route and collide with other unrelated vehicles. Only the last car was left, twisting its body, barely avoiding the obstacles and continuing to chase.

The pursuers who had been left behind and took a detour appeared in front. They parked their cars across the road to block the way, forcing the traffic to stop. The shrill horns sounded one after another on both sides of the river bank.

A news helicopter flew overhead.

A loud sirens sounded in the distance.

"Hey, hey, hey, Director Plessy, why don't you take a detour? The Seine is about 30 meters at its narrowest point, and we'll have to fly over it at least 50 meters," Rhodes reminded him nervously. He saw in the rearview mirror that Bourne's face had turned pale, and even the fingers gripping the rifle were tense. "I don't want to be used as a target in the water... At least you will be a target."

Director Plessy said nothing, but swerved the steering wheel again and rushed onto the narrow sidewalk leading to the park. Fortunately, there weren't many tourists here, as they were sitting in a cafe a little further away from the riverbank, watching the gray car racing furiously on TV. The director pressed the button to open the wing, which also extended a row of six nozzles, and stepped on the accelerator to increase the speed of the entire car.

Then, the director opened his mouth and shouted as if to cheer himself up:

"Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!"

The Peugeot 407 roared as it rushed up the not-so-steep slope, which was full of seasonal flowers. But now they could only cry under the ruthless crushing of the wheels, becoming part of the mud in the gaps between the moving tires.

At the moment the front wheels left the ground, Director Plessy pressed the button of the rocket-assisted engine, and the huge thrust immediately pressed the three of them into the seats - the six rows of nozzles of the car sprayed out bright tail flames, and with the help of the wings that extended again, the car flew over the wide Seine like a fat gray dove and crashed into a car on the opposite bank.

Fortunately, the Peugeot 407 was still able to move, and Director Plessy quickly drove away to prevent himself and his group from being targeted again.

A few minutes later, the owner of the car, Mr. James Bond, walked out of the coffee shop with the sandwiches he bought and several members of Task Force 141. He then saw that his car had turned into a pile of scrap metal and was being surrounded by several tourists taking pictures.

Bond: "...God damn it, that was rented with my salary!"

"You'll have your work cut out for you, Mr. 007," Price sighed helplessly, remembering the news he had just seen on the coffee shop TV and the streak of silver hair. "Rent another one, a better one, using MI6's public funds."

+ + + + + + + + + +

【Target Person Identification】

Security forces dispatched

【Expand information masking】

Temporary experiment starts

【STEM type 2 connection】

[T-002-Nemesis-α Parasite - Initial Experiment - Executing Awakening Procedure]

【Decentralized mission objectives】

【Tracking and Hunting】

Chapter 193: Paris: Adler's Helplessness (3K)

Adler felt like he was in Gotham instead of Paris.

The whole of Paris was in chaos, with explosions and bright green smoke everywhere - just colored smoke, but these smoke canisters were thrown into crowded areas to cause panic, not to mention the car chases that were repeated over and over on the radio channels.

The French government is furiously mobilizing police and GIGN to conduct searches in the city. The armored forces of the First Military Region headquartered in Paris have also received orders to move out and are now entering various key intersections along the roads on the outskirts of the city.

Now, someone seems to have sprayed artificial rain-making agents in the sky, causing the clouds that were originally rolling across the sky like sheep to gradually spread out and spread over the entire city, bringing a hint of dim and gloomy atmosphere.

A breeze started to pick up, blowing some waste paper onto Adler's car, forcing him to lean out, tear off the paper, and throw it into a trash can on the side of the road.

Adler, Woods, and Mason were driving and turned into a side street. They were planning to cross the 14th arrondissement of Paris to the 9th arrondissement across the Seine River. Previously provided intelligence indicated that the CIA's defecting agent from the Treadstone Project had been there.