"This is the big scene you promised?!"
Kensington L. Orland's scream echoed inside the car. He didn't dare get up at all, wedged awkwardly between the back seat and the front. Hands shaking, he twisted open his pill bottle, trying to pop a fast-acting heart pill, but then the whole car jolted with a massive crash. Pills scattered everywhere—his hair, his face, all over—but not a single one made it into his mouth.
"Hmm—not really." Despite the wild chase, Jill Young sat steady as a rock, as if inertia and centrifugal force were just rumors. Amidst the hail of bullets, she gave a little dissatisfied snort through her nose: "Not big enough."
"Not big enough?!" Ignoring the two pills that rolled into his nostrils, Orland struggled up and shouted at Jill Young, "It's big enough! This is plenty! Can we please calm things down now?"
Boom! An explosion of fire and light erupted behind the car, a wave of heat and shock lifting the whole rear end. The Mercedes SUV bounced like it hit a trampoline, its back wheels thumping up and down on the road. The old professor ricocheted between the battered roof and the stiff floor, like candied pork cutlet in a wok, smacking around with loud thuds.
"Aaaahhh!!" It wasn't just the old professor screaming—Londoners were, too. The high-octane car chase and explosions ripped eastward, throwing everything into chaos. The serene city night was history; panicked drivers made escaping even harder, and Jonathan Black was barely keeping the car from falling apart.
Whizz, whizz, whizz—bullets zipped past their ears. Amid the sharp gunfire, Jill Young twitched her ear and caught the heavy thrum of helicopter blades chopping the air. She didn't even need to look; at least three armed choppers were rushing in from the southwest, with more military muscle pouring into the fray. Looks like the London military had lost its mind.
"True, just tangling with these small fries won't lure out the real big fish." Jill Young stretched her fingers and gave Jonathan Black's driver seat a gentle pat. "Jason Bond, my comrade, let's shake things up a bit."
"Got it." Jonathan Black's stern face curled into a faint, cold smile, then he slammed his foot onto the brake.
Swish—the anti-lock system kicked in. The speeding SUV dropped speed in an instant, and the police car tailgating them couldn't dodge in time, slamming right into the Mercedes' rear bumper.
Do assassins wear seatbelts?
Never.
So, the two assassins in the front seats smashed through the windshield and crashed onto the scorching hood. Before they could react, the White-Haired Bandit Queen lunged from the Mercedes' back window like a deep-sea monster, grabbing both burly men and yanking them back into the car.
Screech! With a sharp squeal, the Mercedes sped up again, shooting forward.
Bang, pop, boom, ah! Even the explosions couldn't drown out the satisfying thuds of fists on flesh. The Mercedes barreled wildly through the street, smashing its way through. Suddenly, the back door flew open and the two assassins were ejected from the car like a fart.
With screams of “Aaaah!” the assassins landed squarely on the windshield of the chasing police car. Glass shattered, and they tumbled inside, wrestling with their partners. Meanwhile, at the Mercedes' back door, the White-Haired Bandit Queen inspected the pair of handguns she’d just snagged.
Not too big, not too small—just standard issue, with common bullets. These are black market staples, impossible to trace. Looks like there’s no valuable intel to squeeze from these small fry. Time to blow up the little ones to flush out the big boss.
Alright, let’s get to it.
Bang bang bang! Twin pistols blazed, throwing the police convoy behind them into chaos. Blood spattered across the driver’s seats as the speeding police cars swerved and crashed. Pop! The front tires of the first two police cars suddenly burst, sending them skidding, flipping, and flying.
Whiz whiz! Two bullets shot straight into the gas tanks. Boom—flames erupted, and when the police cars crashed down, they were nothing but burning steel barricades, blocking all pursuers.
Whoosh! The Mercedes sped away, the street ablaze with heat sources everywhere. Ordinary RPG rockets couldn’t lock onto them anymore.
That’s it?' Jonathan glanced at the only rearview mirror left. 'That’s all?
You think that’s not enough?!' Professor Orland clung to Jonathan’s seat, gritting his teeth. 'This is London! London! The British army doesn’t mess around—a terror attack can’t last long, this is already insane!
The professor figured this was about enough, but Jill Young’s calm voice drifted from the back: “Professor, if I were you, I’d get back in my seat—fast.”
He didn’t hesitate—thump!—and wedged himself tightly into the seat, not even asking why anymore.
Jill Young tossed aside her empty pistols and added, “And Jason Bond, be sure to check both ways at the intersection.”
Huh?' Jonathan frowned, then every hair on his body stood up.
Woooooo!!
Before they knew it, the trio had raced to the intersection. A glance to the right revealed Big Ben shining under the lights. But just then, two massive trucks, loaded with murderous intent, barreled in from both sides, slamming into the speeding Mercedes.
With precise planning, the two seventeen-meter-long transport trucks hit hard and true, their custom ramming grills slicing at the Mercedes’ front and rear like giant files.
Aaaah!' Orland screamed. If that hit landed, any car would be crushed flat as a pancake.
Roar!' Jonathan gritted his teeth, feeling like something in his mind was about to snap. Time seemed to slow down. He racked his brain, but no matter how he calculated, it looked impossible to dodge this well-planned collision. He could even see the cruel, confident smiles of the men in the truck cabins.
But in a flash, two iron shards, snapped off from the Mercedes’ back door, suddenly flew out. Painted black, they slipped through the truck windows and stabbed both drivers in their left arms. The attack was so sudden and precise that both killers, in pain, jerked their steering wheels to the left.
At the same time, a strange force subtly altered the Mercedes’ tire friction. The car wobbled like a skier, slipping out of the trap with a thrilling curve.
Boom!!
With a massive crash, the two trucks slammed into each other, grill to grill, full speed to full speed—the sound made your teeth ache.
Orland watched as the two trucks, driven by the impact, lifted up, their rear ends pointing skyward before collapsing with a metallic screech. Thud—the weighted cargo slammed down, shaking the London ground. Boom! The wreckage erupted into two flaming mountains, and no matter how many troops were hiding inside, they were surely finished in the inferno.
Orland’s jaw slammed into the window, leaving him speechless. Jonathan watched the carnage in the rearview mirror, equally shaken. That was way too close.
Jason Bond, now do you realize how green you really are?
Whoosh—the Mercedes screeched to a halt. "Whew—whew—" Jonathan took a couple deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. He sighed, "Without tech support, I really can't keep up with you and Professor Young when it comes to handling the big picture."
Good to know. Tianyi may have brought a bunch of new gadgets and tech, but at the end of the day, nothing beats your own skills." Jill Young slammed the back door shut and glanced at the old man beside her. "You alright?"
Orland's eyes practically screamed 'desperate.' "This is plenty big—let's call it a day and go home, alright?"
We're just getting started—the best is yet to come." Jill Young nodded toward the back. "Look, the real spectacle's about to begin."
Huh?" Orland squinted, then his eyes flew wide open.
In the blazing sea of fire, sparks suddenly burst out, as if some explosive energy was erupting again. Then, hulking figures started to emerge through the flames.
To Orland's horror, seven or eight massive figures actually charged out of the roaring inferno!
That's right—these brutes were missing arms and legs, covered in blood, their clothes burned away, skin and flesh charred. Wreathed in flames, they staggered and rolled on the ground, howling. But as Orland watched, the fire went out and, impossibly, their wounds started healing right before his eyes!
Charred skin flaked off layer by layer, shattered limbs stretched and regrew—looked like they'd be good as new in seconds. Each brute wobbled to their feet, seven or eight pairs of eyes glaring this way, their crimson eyes flickering in the darkness. Even from far away, Orland could hear their heavy, beast-like breathing and the swelling, ravenous, unstoppable urge to kill.
Just one look, and the professor felt those monsters' fangs could tear him limb from limb—or swallow him whole. For the first time as a proud member of humanity, he felt true terror at being prey.
Orland's teeth chattered, his words stumbling: "I-I mean, isn't this big enough...?"
Nope, still missing something.
Missing something?! What kind of scene are you waiting for?! Ugh, why am I even saying this? Go—go, go, go!" Orland pounded Jonathan’s seat. "Why are you just sitting there? Step on it!"
Jonathan eyed the monsters in the rearview, his eyes narrowing dangerously, but he still hit the gas. Weird as those guys looked, he trusted the Big Boss—these were still just small fry, not the real target. Whoosh, the battered Mercedes roared back to life, racing ahead. The monsters didn’t chase; on foot, they couldn’t catch a speeding car.
But they had their own ride.
Boom!!
Suddenly, the burning wreckage behind them exploded, like smashing a tomato with a baseball bat. Sparks and metal shards sprayed everywhere, and through the flying flames, an impossibly huge vehicle burst out of the fire, charging straight ahead.