Night settled over Adolf's manor.
Inside, three hired guns waited — the most notorious mercenary leaders in the region.
They all knew about the rumour of the buried gold. Each had tried to squeeze Adolf for its location before, but he'd refused. None of them dared move without his guidance — killing him too soon would lose them the map.
Tonight, that changed. Adolf had summoned them to cut a deal — and settle a grudge.
He was still seething from Cole Shaw's defiance earlier. His original plan was to trigger the base's self-destruct once he reached it, burying everyone together. But paranoia won out. He wanted insurance.
"I can take you to the site where the gold is hidden," Adolf said evenly, sliding three photos across the table. "But first, I need you to handle a few people for me. They're staying at the Grand Casablanca Hotel. Kill them all, and I'll take you to the gold."
The merc leaders studied the photos — Cole Shaw, Christmas, Yin Yang.
One nodded. "Consider it done."
⸻⸻
Early the next morning
Peach arrived at the hotel right on time.
Cole, Christmas, and Yin Yang met her in the lobby and loaded up for Adolf's estate.
Halfway down the coastal road, Christmas caught a flash in the rear-view mirror. His tone tightened. "Cole, we've got tails. Three SUVs, a dozen bikes."
Cole leaned forward and flipped up the hidden console screen behind the front seat. The feed from the rear cameras lit up.
"Three Chevys, maybe twenty light motorcycles," he said calmly. "All tracking us."
Yin Yang's jaw flexed. "Has to be that bastard Adolf."
Beside them, Peach went pale. "What's happening? Who are these people?"
Cole glanced back, voice steady. "Trouble. Stay low." He squeezed her wrist once — firm, grounding. "You'll be fine."
"Windows up," he ordered.
Christmas raised the armour-plated glass just as two motorbikes slid up alongside the Hummer.
The riders grinned — then opened fire.
BRRRTTT—
Rounds sparked off reinforced panels in a deafening rattle.
Peach screamed and ducked into Cole's chest.
"Christmas," Cole said flatly, "clear them."
"Gladly."
Christmas jerked the wheel, slamming the Hummer's flank into one bike, then the next — both crumpled under the armoured tires.
Behind them, inside the Chevrolets, the three merc leaders stared at the untouched Hummer and cursed.
"Light 'em up!" one barked into a radio.
The pursuing vehicles fanned out, engines howling.
Christmas sneered. "Not today."
He hit a switch on the dash. The Hummer's front plating locked into bulldozer configuration — heavy armour braced across the grill.
They ploughed forward. Anything that tried to block them folded like paper.
Cole turned. "Simon, you in?"
Riley grinned under his skull-pattern balaclava and reached for the QBU-88 rifle beside him. "Always."
He popped the roof hatch and rose into the open air. The port wasn't meant for a man, but he made it work.
CRACK—CRACK—CRACK!
Each shot found a target.
Motorcyclists toppled one by one, helmets useless against SAS precision.
The Rabat morning erupted into chaos — traffic crashing, civilians screaming, the sharp echo of gunfire bouncing through narrow streets.
⸻⸻
Elsewhere in the city
Jack Chen gunned his motorcycle through a maze of alleys, agents from half a dozen agencies on his tail. Everyone wanted the same thing — the key to the military vault holding two hundred forty tons of Nazi gold.
He weaved between cars, using anything at hand to slow pursuit — trash bins, doorframes, parked scooters.
Then, bursting out of a side street, he saw it — a black Hummer barrelling past at full speed.
Timing and instinct did the rest.
Jack dropped the bike, leapt, and slammed onto the roof of Cole's vehicle.
On the roof, Riley caught the movement and spun, nearly firing before incoming rounds forced him back inside.
Cole looked up through the hatch — and met Jack's eyes.
"Hey! Little help here!" Jack shouted, clinging to the roof as bullets whined past.
Cole exhaled, irritated. "You've got to be kidding me."
He popped the side door open. "Get in before I change my mind."
Jack dove inside, slammed the door, and pressed his back to it.
Yin Yang immediately levelled a pistol at his head. "Guess we're all popular today."
Jack raised both hands. "Easy, brother. We met yesterday, remember?"
Yin Yang smirked and holstered the weapon. "Just checking."
Jack blew out a breath. "Appreciate that… sort of."
But the relief was short-lived. The pursuers who'd been chasing him had joined forces with Adolf's men.
Outside, the convoy merged — SUVs and bikes tightening formation, gunning straight for the Hummer.
The entire city block became a kill zone.