A global reward of 100 million US dollars was publicly offered, and killers all over the world went crazy. They witnessed the account amount soaring from 6 million, and the information came with a friendly reminder from the New York branch of the Continental Hotel.
It's said to be a friendly reminder, but it's more like a warning. It's a long sentence, and the general idea is: great value for money, don't bother newbies.
In other words, this $100 million is very hot, so be careful not to spend it without your life.
Maybe killers in other cities, or even other countries, are still lucky and are preparing to take a long trip to earn a lot of extra money, but the killers in New York City have basically stopped, and they are still sitting on the 100 million US dollars that they are making fun of.
The killers far away from the slums lamented for the first time that traffic jams are not without their benefits. At least this time, they saved a small life due to the slow speed of the car.
But the killers in the parking lot were not so lucky. After the $100 million group text message, there was another wave of parking craze in the slums, and the number of killers gathered here approached three digits.
After two consecutive failed attempts to break into the abandoned building and three consecutive failed attempts to escape by car, the remaining fifty killers huddled behind the car and trembled.
You can't advance or retreat. If you show up, you will die!
The pressure of death was like a huge boulder, weighing them down. Some people jumped repeatedly on the edge of collapse, covering their faces with their hands and crying bitterly.
"I can't take it anymore!"
A killer couldn't bear the pressure and stood up from the ground suddenly. After a gunshot, the killer got his wish and received the lunch box.
He left with a smile on his face!
The corpse's hands and feet were twitching, and the killer next to him looked at the bean sprouts all over the floor, his eyelids twitching slightly, but he didn't say much.
It’s a small scene that I’ve seen many times today.
"Damn, he's out, the monster is coming towards us."
A female killer held the makeup mirror and saw Russell walking out of the lobby on the first floor carrying the M4A1. She was immediately frightened and the air humidity increased.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang————
There was loud gunfire in the parking lot, and the killers aimed their guns and cannons at the lobby on the first floor, unleashing their firepower like crazy.
Unwilling to give up, two people took the opportunity to slip into the car door and start the car to escape.
After the gunfire, the car turned sharply, lost control and hit the wall. However, this was not a traffic accident because the people inside were gone before the car accident.
When the intensive gunfire stopped, Russell stepped out of the corner, held his M4A1 straight, and passed in front of him from right to left. Bullets accurately hit the killers' guns or arms exposed outside the car.
Occasionally, there are a few people who poke their heads out, and their foreheads are all blooming. They can't stand it anymore. They just leave without saying hello.
Click!
The sound of M4A1 changing magazines sounded, but in the parking lot there were only the groans of the injured killers, but no one dared to show their heads or even fire back.
The spiritual defense line was crushed to pieces. This group of people had lost their will to fight. Some of them wiped some blood on the ground, smeared it on their faces and fell to the ground to pretend to be dead...
Then he was kicked awake by his companion. This was so stupid.
Russell walked into the parking lot and walked through the chaos of vehicles. Gunshots were fired one after another, biting away at the killers' mental will.
"Don't shoot. I have a daughter to raise. She is only three years old. I can't die here. Please let me go."
A crying voice sounded, and a killer stood up from behind the car with his hands raised.
There was deathly silence in the parking lot, and the killers were full of expectations. If the colleagues with daughter characters were not dead, then... then they all had daughters.
Russell narrowed his eyes slightly and grinned after a moment: "You do have a daughter, but she is already twenty years old. She is the daughter you paid to find."
Bang!
A bullet sent this scumbag to hell. Russell continued to clean up the killers in the parking lot. However, the killers saw his style of leaving no one alive and angrily launched a final wave of counterattacks.
After the magazine was replaced, more than thirty killers stood up at the same time and pointed their guns at Russell.
They bet again, bet on their luck, and confront each other head-on. Russell can't kill them all in an instant. Some people will survive.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang————
Russell unloaded the magazine, and the killers in front fell to the ground neatly with their guns raised, as if the Internet cafe had lost power and went offline collectively.
They lost the bet that Russell could really kill them all in an instant.
"Hey, if you're a man, put down your gun and have a life-threatening duel with me."
In the parking lot, the two remaining killers stood up, their eyes bloodshot and red, each holding a dagger in their hands.
Russell: "..."
Where did this silly beep come from?
"Come on, throw away the gun, it's time for you to prove yourself!"
Bang! Bang!
Russell pulled the trigger speechlessly and shook his head at the corpse: "Sorry, I don't have to prove anything to you."
Tsk!
A convertible sports car drove into the parking lot. In the driver's seat, the blonde beauty killer was wearing a red evening dress. Her slender waist was cinched, making her breasts bulging. She looked at Russell in the pile of corpses in shock, reacted quickly, reversed the car and fled from the place.
"Little sister, walk slowly, no one is chasing you..."
In the face of high-quality resources, Russell always couldn't bear it and didn't want to see the tragic situation of his forehead blooming, so he suppressed the muzzle of the M4A1.
After the sports car drove out of the corner of the parking lot, he pulled out his M9 and swung his arm violently. A bullet in an arc came out of the chamber, followed immediately by the sound of the sports car hitting the wall.
You won't be able to see it anymore!
At this point, the killers in New York City have completely calmed down. More than 200 of their colleagues have died in civilian areas. They can't help but calm down.
At the same time, the "High Table Organization" to which the New York branch of the Continental Hotel was loyal was paying close attention to Russell. More than two hundred killers were certainly an extremely serious loss, but what was even more frightening was that the reputation of the Continental Hotel had been hit hard. For the first time in history, Second-rate.
What should I do if I take off my clothes?
Just wear it again.
The idea of the High Table Organization is also simple and crude. Kill Russell to restore credibility and eliminate uncontrollable risks.
Perhaps Russell has demonstrated the powerful combat capability of one against a hundred, but after all, he is a body of flesh and blood. The High Table Organization firmly believes that Russell cannot be on full alert 24 hours a day.
He needs to eat and drink, he needs sleep to replenish his energy, and he can't always carry a gun with him...
A 40-member professional team set off for New York, and the reward for Russell was once again increased. As long as any killer kills him, he will become rich overnight and gain a high status and status within the organization.
[Name: Russell]
[Status: Global Open Contract]
[Amount: US$300 million]
…
"Hello, Director?"
Russell took out his mobile phone and walked towards the surveillance camera: "It's me. The situation is a bit serious. About 200 killers surrounded me."
"I was fine, not injured, and actually had the situation under control... Of course, who am I, I had them all under control."
"My current position is in XXX, not in our jurisdiction. I hope you can explain to your colleagues here that we are all on our own, so please don't embarrass yourself... Oh, I mean, don't embarrass me."
"It's really okay!"
Russell turned to look at the parking lot and nodded seriously: "I'm not going to lie to you, they are all honest, actively cooperate, and have no unrealistic illusions."
After making the call, Russell raised his hand and pointed at the surveillance camera, then pulled out his M9 and shot it.
After finishing all this, he turned sideways and looked towards the lobby on the first floor, shrugged and said: "I know you are there, there is no need to hide, come forward!"
There was no response, as if Russell was talking to himself.
"Stop hiding, I'm talking about you, the invisible one."
"..."
As he finished speaking, three more infrared aiming points appeared on Russell's forehead, and a tall figure with a gray body and a metal mask appeared.
He is visually estimated to be 2.2 meters tall, with a majestic build, and a cool braided reggae shawl. On his right shoulder, a plasma cannon is ready to go.
Predator!
Russell raised his eyebrows. Based on the biological reaction, he speculated that the visitor was an alien, but he did not expect it to be a Predator.
He dispersed the electromagnetic waves, sensed communication equipment within a two-kilometer radius, and confirmed that there were no probes or other objects before pointing his gun at the Predator.
Bang!
There was a gunshot, and the Predator's head shook slightly, and the high-tech mask bounced off the bullet, leaving a trace of scratches.
To Russell's surprise, the Predator did not activate the electromagnetic gun to fight back. Instead, he took off his face armor and placed it respectfully on the ground.
The electromagnetic gun was folded behind the quilt, and the Predator opened his mouth like a mouthpiece. His ferocious eyes were locked on Russell, and with a clang, he popped out his wrist knife.
A melee arm weapon, mounted on the outside of the wrist, with two parallel serrated blades about 40 centimeters in length, which are sharp enough to cut the bones of various prey.
"Wow, you are so chic, you look really good!"
Russell sighed with emotion, and then asked: "What do you mean by taking off your mask? Do you want to fight alone?"
Predator: ""(°ヘ°)......??(??????‵‵)??......(￣▽￣)σ......(`_)乂(_')......"
Russell looked confused and made gestures and said: "You will die if you watch the game. Are you tired of Yingge?"
The Predator was silent for a few seconds, pointing to his chest, and then to Russell: "Strong! Challenge! Honor!"
When a Predator fights or hunts with a wrist knife, it means that the hunter is putting his honor and pride on the line in battle, as well as his respect for his enemy.
In a collision of muscle against muscle, blood against blood, the Predator kills or is killed by his enemies.
Whether the battle is life or death, they don't mind, because their beliefs and codes of conduct make them regard honor as the supreme glory and more important than life.
It's ridiculous, but the values of the Predator are so true. It is generally believed that shame is more terrible than death.
Of course, honor is honor, and the Predators are notoriously bad losers. Whenever they are knocked down by a powerful enemy, they will self-destruct and die together with the enemy.
The power is average, at the level of a micro-nuclear explosion. It can only destroy Brooklyn and one Manhattan.
"Well, you are different from them. You are a warrior rather than a killer, so I'll satisfy you once."
Russell sighed, threw away the M4A1 and M9 in his hand, and took off his bulletproof vest.
The Predator on the opposite side was stunned, snorted coldly, and took off his breastplate, as if he didn't want to take advantage of Russell.
Then, he took out the fighting cane from his waist and ejected it into a double-headed spear that was more than two meters long. Both sides were extremely sharp and had an electric shock effect.
The Predator threw the spear and it fell at Russell's feet.
"I understand, I have weapons."
Russell shook his head slightly, kicked the spear back, and then pulled out the Adamantium knife from his pants pocket.
"..."
The Predator looked at Russell's pockets in confusion, preparing to take off his pants as a souvenir of honor after the battle.
