"The light is very dim, and there are no windows. He should be in the basement."
V was indeed an experienced Mercenary; after just a few glances at the screen, she deduced Saul's location.
But knowing the location wasn't enough; they had come to rescue Saul.
"The basement, that's tricky. How are we supposed to get there?"
V frowned, unable to think of a way for a moment.
They were on the fourth floor.
Sneaking into the basement all the way without making a sound was unlikely.
"Forget it, V. Since we know the location, we don't need to sneak anymore. We'll just charge in directly. As long as we're fast enough, the Wraiths won't be able to react!"
Berry gave her own idea directly, pulling out the gun from behind her waist, eager to try.
Reality wasn't a game.
It was impossible for the enemies to be so stupid that they wouldn't notice three living people in a building.
In fact, in less than nine or ten minutes, the enemies would discover the anomaly.
Since they had confirmed Saul was in the basement.
Then just go for it.
What era was this? Still doing traditional stealth.
In 2077, one should be vaping electronic cigarettes and doing cyber-stealth.
Taking out all the enemies you see—if no one discovers you, that's the perfect stealth.
"Ah, isn't that a bit too reckless?"
Looking at Berry's murderous aura, V scratched her head, feeling like it was a bit too sudden.
"It's fine, just do as I say."
Berry was confident, almost guaranteeing it with a pat on her chest.
Scorpion, to the side, chose to remain silent.
Berry naturally assumed the other party agreed and immediately spoke to Panam Palmer on the communication channel.
"Panam Palmer, how's the situation outside?"
"Very quiet. The Wraiths haven't discovered you yet."
"Alright, you guys create a disturbance outside to attract the Wraiths' attention. We've found Saul and will get him out immediately."
"Ah, this... okay, no problem."
Panam Palmer paused for a moment upon hearing Berry's plan to go in hard, but quickly agreed.
It had to be said, Berry's idea was indeed quite reckless.
But it fit the Nomads' typically rugged style.
Nomads who scraped a living in the wasteland always drew their guns before using their brains, never leaving trouble for the next day.
"Wait a second."
Seeing Berry pull out her gun and ready to go, Scorpion called her to stop.
"Hmm?"
Under Berry's puzzled gaze, Scorpion kicked the box next to them. He had found something good inside.
Berry looked over; the box was filled with cable coils.
Then her brow relaxed, and she nodded at Scorpion with satisfaction.
"Good idea, let's do as you say."
...
Outside, the sky had completely plunged into darkness. All around, only the light of searchlights dimly illuminated the outline of the building.
"I can't believe you actually agreed to her."
Mitch shook his head while taking out his assault rifle. Beside him, Panam Palmer had already shouldered her modified "Breakthrough" sniper rifle.
It had its own name: "Overwatch."
Of course, compared to the name, what was more eye-catching was the flashy pink paint job on the big gun.
Clearly, the brash and hot-tempered Panam Palmer also had her own girlish heart.
However, this was reflected in a gun specifically designed to blow people's brains out.
It was hard to say if that was good or bad.
"Can't come here for nothing. Since the Wraiths have stepped on our faces, we have to give them a taste of their own medicine!"
Leaning against a rock and setting up her rifle, Panam Palmer said, suppressing her excitement.
"Hmm, Mitsuhide, what are you doing?"
Just as the two were preparing their firearms to create a diversion, Mitch saw Mitsuhide silently get into the car V had driven here, and immediately asked in confusion.
"I'm going to spearhead the assault for you. Don't worry, the enemies won't realize you're the ones firing. I'll attract their attention and take out as many as I can."
Closing the car door, Mitsuhide started the vehicle.
"Hey, this..."
Before Mitch could stop him, Mitsuhide had already stepped on the gas. The vehicle roared, its lights blazing as it charged toward the nearby factory compound.
"Crazy, it's all crazy. If it's not you guys who are crazy, then this world is crazy."
Mitch rubbed his bald head and muttered to himself.
These young people were playing rougher than he, a veteran who had been to the battlefield, ever did.
He didn't know if people these days were too extreme, or if he was just out of touch.
"Heh, you're wrong. It's everyone who's crazy!"
Panam Palmer laughed, not worried in the slightest about the departing Mitsuhide.
She had seen just how capable this guy was.
Pulling the bolt of her gun with a smile, Panam Palmer said something, but it did nothing to ease Mitch's worry.
…
"What is that!?"
"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"
Just as night fell, the Wraiths at the factory gate were discussing a little gambling, when they heard the roar of an engine.
Looking up, they saw a pitch-black car with its two headlights shining in the dark, roaring toward the gate. They were instantly jolted and hurriedly grabbed their guns.
"Fire! Don't let the car break into the factory!"
In front of the cement blocks, the Wraiths ducked behind cover and opened fire on the vehicle in the dark.
On the wall, someone even manned a fixed machine gun, sweeping a hail of bullets toward the car on the road.
The crackling sound of gunfire echoed throughout the factory, and the dense muzzle flashes illuminated the open space behind the gate, exposing the Wraiths' firing positions.
This gave Panam Palmer an incredibly advantageous shooting opportunity.
With a "bang," the upper body of the guy on the wall who had just manned the machine gun vanished into thin air, as if wiped away by an eraser. His two legs even stood for a moment due to inertia before falling off the wall.
"Damn!"
The charging Wraiths below were showered in a rain of blood. Confused, they touched half a finger hanging from their hair and were shocked to realize that this "rain" came from their companion.
"Damn it, there's a sniper!"
He shouted, but it failed to attract the attention of his companions nearby.
Because a louder sound, like a gasoline drum exploding, drowned out all other noise.
The pitch-black sports car, like a ghost in the night, crashed straight through the gate, riddled with bullet holes.
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