The Mechanic's head instantly exploded, spewing white brain matter. His eyes were wide with disbelief; he couldn't believe such a weak guy would so decisively shoot him.
After taking down the Mechanic with one shot, Wesley rushed straight to the Butcher's location. At this moment, the Butcher stood there, holding a boning knife and glaring at Wesley from afar.
"Fuck!"
Wesley cursed and charged forward, not even intending to engage him in a fight. His Pistol fired three quick shots. One bullet was blocked by the Butcher's boning knife, and another was dodged.
The third bullet, however, merely grazed him, arcing around the Butcher and entering his temple from the other side.
It was all about catching him off guard.
"Sloan!!!"
Wesley's roar echoed on the first floor. He was angry, he was hateful. He was furious that Sloan had deceived him with false information about his father, almost making him kill his own father with his own hands. That damned Sloan almost plunged him into an abyss of pain.
But thankfully, his father was not dead.
Meanwhile, on the third floor of the weaving factory, Sloan watched the surveillance footage with a grim expression in his office.
Being challenged so directly, he couldn't tolerate it for a second, but the combination of Carlos and Wesley made him hesitate.
As one of the Brotherhood's top assassins, Sloan naturally knew how strong Carlos was, so he was unwilling to go out and face him. But now, the situation was urgent.
Bang bang bang!
The gunshots were continuous, and Zhang Jie's follow-up shots made John's eyebrows twitch.
The four-person cleanup crew also arrived on the third floor. The second floor had been completely cleared out in their highly efficient operation, not a single person left.
Both the first and second floors housed the Brotherhood's low-level assassins and logistical staff; all the true top assassins were on the third floor.
The whistling of bullets echoed through the vast space of the third-floor weaving factory, and crimson blood began to bloom from the pristine white corridor.
Zhang Jie rolled and dodged five meters to his right, his glock 34 firing simultaneously.
A bullet grazed his cheek, exploding a shower of wood splinters from a wooden crate behind him. "Three o'clock!"
John didn't turn his head. Holding his Pistol in his right hand, he fired three shots from under his left arm.
The bullets passed through the gaps in the textile machine, pinning an assassin who was about to shoot to the wall. Two blood blossoms bloomed on the man's chest, and the gun in his hand fell to the ground powerlessly.
Carlos and Wesley moved back-to-back, their bullets arcing in strange trajectories, colliding in mid-air with the Brotherhood assassins' curving bullets, exploding in dazzling sparks.
"This is trouble, the rest are all tough nuts to crack!" Wesley panted, "Hope Zhang Jie and the others are okay."
Before he finished speaking, a red figure swept over the top of a textile machine. It was Simmons. Her bullet traced a perfect spiral, bypassing three textile machines and heading straight for John's throat.
John suddenly leaned back, the bullet grazing the collar of his bulletproof vest, sending out a shower of sparks. He returned fire with three shots, but the fox had already vanished into the shadows of the weaving machine.
Zhang Jie turned and fired three shots, hitting an assassin descending from the ceiling. The man fell like a broken puppet, crashing onto a pile of fabric.
Sloan's voice came from deep within the factory, with an unsettling composure: "You think wearing bulletproof vests will save your lives? The Brotherhood has a thousand and one ways to kill!"
Six assassins fired simultaneously from different angles.
Bullets wove a deadly net in the air; some flew straight, some arced, and others, like boomerangs, circled around behind the four.
"Get down!" Carlos roared.
The four simultaneously dived to the ground, bullets colliding above their heads.
John felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder; a curving bullet had struck his shoulder, a weak point in the bulletproof suit. Blood immediately soaked his black suit.
"John!" Zhang Jie tried to rush over but was forced back by three bullets.
He furiously returned fire, shattering an assassin's knee.
The man screamed and fell, then was finished off by Wesley with a shot to the forehead.
Wesley's left arm was also bleeding.
Carlos suddenly charged towards a large textile machine, his bullets arcing dramatically, bypassing three obstacles and hitting an assassin hiding behind a control panel.
The man's temple exploded, and his body slid limply to the ground.
Carlos said, "Our situation is not good!"
John gritted his teeth and stood up, blood dripping from his fingers.
He switched to holding his Pistol with his left hand, his right arm hanging limply.
Zhang Jie suddenly cried out in pain as a bullet pierced his abdomen from the side, exiting through his back.
He knelt on the ground, but his Pistol was still firing, keeping an assassin hiding behind a bookshelf from raising his head.
Then he suddenly rolled to the side, and a bullet struck the spot where he had just been lying.
"I hate curving bullets! Holy shit!" Zhang Jie cursed.
But the situation took a turn for the worse.
The remaining five assassins, plus Sloan and Simmons, surrounded them.
John and Zhang Jie stood back-to-back, both wounded.
Carlos and Wesley were also forced to their side, and their bullets were running low.
"It's over," Sloan walked slowly towards them, holding a silver 1911 Pistol in his hand. "You four against the entire Brotherhood? Too naive."
Simmons stood opposite him, her gun pointed steadily at John's forehead, not moving an inch.
There was no emotion in her eyes.
"Anything else you'd like to say, gentlemen?"
Sloan's tone was unhurried, revealing a calm confidence of victory.
Although these four guys had attacked their headquarters and they had lost many subordinates, the top experts were still there, and he was still there, so the Brotherhood would continue to exist.
"Sloan, my father did not betray the Brotherhood, you betrayed the Brotherhood!"
Wesley roared, clutching the wound on his left hand. All the assassins present were stunned, then looked at each other.
Seeing that everyone was starting to waver, Wesley directly pulled out the folded paper and the piece of cloth from his pocket, shook his hand to open them, and then threw them on the ground.
"You can see for yourselves, the Loom of Fate has long since written Sloan's name on it. He should have died long ago!"
These assassins all had excellent eyesight and could clearly see things from a distance, so they immediately saw the information on the piece of woven cloth on the ground.
Suddenly, everyone fell silent, even putting down their Pistols.
Just as Zhang Jie thought he had the upper hand, Sloan unhurriedly pulled out a stack of documents from the side.
Then, he walked and distributed them, saying, "This is yours, this is yours, this is yours, this is yours, this is yours. If I hadn't intercepted them, you would have all been dead long ago."
Each assassin, after receiving a document with a piece of woven cloth, glanced at it and remained silent.
"In fact, besides me, all of you should also die. But my goal is for everyone to live and lead better lives," Sloan looked at everyone present. "I will also lead the Brotherhood to a more prosperous future."
Then, Sloan spread his hands, "So, do you choose to die, or do you choose to create a more brilliant future for the Brotherhood with me?"
The remaining assassins, faced with the choice between life and death, chose to raise their guns. Only Simmons remained silent; she looked at her death list, saying nothing.
Wesley hadn't expected such an outcome. It turned out that everyone was on the Loom's hit list.
Not just Sloan, but everyone.
In the face of such a choice, everyone's decision became understandable: sacrifice a friend, not oneself. Since we are all on the death list, then we all choose to live!
But Simmons quietly made a decision: to return everyone to their predetermined fate!
She believed in fatalism. She chose to join the Brotherhood and become one of its best precisely because of her unwavering belief in fatalism, believing that every assassination target of the Loom was correct and predetermined.
Therefore, she could not accept living on like this, disrupting the cycle of fate.
She quietly stepped back half a step, and her modified 1911 opened fire. A specially made steel-core bullet traced a large circle from behind the bookshelf, piercing the heads of the remaining assassins one by one.
Blood splattered everywhere!
After firing, she spread her arms and closed her eyes, calmly embracing death.
Just then... "You wish!"
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