I Have A Super USB Drive

by <unknown>

  Only eight were severely wounded and the remaining nine, including Geraldson, suffered minor injuries in the form of abrasions.

  The eight seriously wounded ones were sent to the hospital first. Then, Geraldson and other members who were lightly wounded got into the vehicles, still in a trance, to be sent to the hospital for examination and treatment.

  As for these sculptures, the orders from up above remained unyielding, even though one set of sculptures had been lost. The others must still be transported.

  Even so, before they reached the hospital, Geraldson's boss called. "Geraldson, what happened?"

  "Director, I'm not too sure either."

  Geraldson said listlessly, "The three sculptures under my care have been stolen…"

  "Who are they?"

  "I don't know. I could only tell by the sound that they used NP27 pistols, which are the most popular type in gun shops. Tens of thousands are sold every day across the country. It's likely that they chose this gun to conceal their identity…"

  Geraldson analyzed. "But I injured one of our opponents. As long as the on-site inspector who arrived later managed to collect a sample, maybe we could uncover the existence of a mysterious organization through that blood."

  "Mysterious organization? Are you being serious?" His boss on the phone sounded surprised.

  "Yes, I'm certain that they're a tightly guarded organization and they possess some very sophisticated stealth technology!

  "Hello? Hello!"

  Just when Geraldson was uttering the words "stealth technology", there was a sudden static hiss on the phone. It seemed that the signal was interfered with and there was no signal anymore.

  "What happened?"

  Geraldson frowned. He looked to his side. Another FBI officer was talking to his family on the phone, but his signal was also disconnected.

  "Your signal was cut off too?"

  "Yeah. Yours as well?"

  Geraldson tried calling again, but for some reason, although the phone's signal bar was full, the call could not go through no matter what. It was as if all the signal towers and even the communication satellites were not functioning…

  "Maybe something is wrong with the nearby signal tower?"

  Geraldson frowned as the vehicle pulled into the hospital…

  …

  "I've invaded the entire North American network as well as all communication satellites in the North American Continent, causing them to display symptoms of being infected by a virus. At present, all communications and networks in the United States have been paralyzed."

  Currently, Chen Chen listened to Little X's voice before nodding. "Nicely done. How are the casualties on our side?"

  "One of the members of the B.S.S team was injured, but the sculptures have been successfully recovered. It's just that they can't be transported back for now."

  "Let's transport them by sea."

  Chen Chen was relieved. "I have to say that we were unlucky. An incident like this happened during our first brush against the Federation. Still, fortunately, we've sent a team of T-Knights to clean things up."

  Speaking of this, Chen Chen asked again, "Has the T-force arrived in Los Angeles?"

  "Soon. Then, should we…" Little X lowered its voice.

  "Yes. Now isn't yet the time to show our hand against the Earth Federation."

  Chen Chen nodded and sighed. "Although there'll be disadvantages if the Federation knows of our existence, the situation isn't irredeemable. It's enough to suppress any evidence of our existence as much as possible — for one, at the very least, we can't let the Federation know that we have the power of invisibility."

  "And that's why you asked me to temporarily cripple communications across North America?"

  "Yes. This stealth ability has unparalleled advantages in both tactics and strategy. It wouldn't be the worst thing for the Federation to know of our existence. The worst thing would be if they knew about our ability to become invisible because this can then be countered.

  "In addition, the blood sample of the injured B.S.S member must be recovered, so…"

  Finally, Chen Chen decisively stretched out his right hand and gently drew a finger over his neck. "All the members of the FBI who were involved in this incident and the high-level FBI officials in Los Angeles who have received the reports — eliminate them and leave no one alive."

  Chapter 251: Death Mobilized |

  Los Angeles International Airport. A large number of passengers shuffled out of a plane arriving from Namibia.

  After passing the customs, some of the passengers exited the airport right away while some appeared to be waiting for their partners. These people merrily chatted with one another. The mood in the airport was the same as it had always been.

  An immigration officer named Johnny was operating in his post. He tirelessly searched each person's body, pockets, cuffs, and luggage. This was a part of his daily job.

  For some unspeakable reason, he suddenly felt an extremely discomforting feeling when he searched a large man standing six feet tall.

  He was uncertain what sort of feeling he was experiencing. He stole several glances at the other person and what he saw was what appeared to be a pool of still, dead water taking on the form of a face. It looked like there was nothing in the world that may serve to interest the man in the slightest.

  This man before him gave off a depressing, gloomy aura. Johnny had a false impression that he was not facing a living person.

  It was for this reason that Johnny silently raised his alarm. This would not be the first time that degenerate robbers tried to sneak past the customs and try to attack the officer when caught.

  Fortunately, Johnny did not find anything suspicious about the man. It may appear that despite this person's suspicious appearance, he was an ideal citizen.

  So, Johnny let the man pass.

  Shortly after that, Johnny met yet another passenger who was as gloomy as the grave.

  Johnny felt a little confused as this passenger carried the same air around him as the previous passenger did. If not for one of them being black and the other being Caucasian, he may have taken them to be siblings.

  "Maybe I'm seeing things because I'm too tired…"

  Johnny muttered to himself and cast it off his mind.

  Unbeknownst to him, his colleague in the adjacent customs portal was thinking the same thing as he did.

  There were ten of these gloomy passengers in total. They blended into the tens of thousands of people walking in and out of Los Angeles airport and finally blended into the city…

  …

  "And that's how it went down."

  Inside a conference room in the FBI branch in Los Angeles, a group consisting of over ten high-up officials were in their seats, listening to the explanation of a bald elderly man, "Our team was caught off guard by the attack. The disappearance of the statue is only a minor issue, I'm sure every one of you here is eager to know about the implications behind this attack on the FBI?"

  "Is it a secret operation team from the Mainland? Or North Sea Continent?"

  "There's no way for us to make an educated guess, but one thing is clear, this was the work of an extremely well-put-together organization. It may even appear that the opposition possesses soldier cloaking devices…"

  "Is this reported yet?" one of them asked.

  "Not yet, the entire North American communication systems were besieged by hackers. I have a feeling that this organization may be behind these attacks as well…"

  "Are you kidding me?"

  Everyone began to raise their voices and cause a commotion.

  However, it was at this very moment when the door of the conference room suddenly creaked open silently…

  They all instinctively turned to look when they heard the sound but they did not see anything.

  "Wind?"

  The elderly man leading the meeting expressed vivid confusion and appeared to have thought of something. His expression suddenly changed. "Careful�
��"

  Before he could finish, the door of the conference room was slammed shut violently. The sturdy sound-proof installations in the conference room completely muffled the horrific screams and cries for help coming from inside the conference room…

  …

  "Wah!"

  Geraldson abruptly snapped his eyes open and shot up from the bed.

  His vision was initially a blur until he gathered his senses over the next few seconds.

  "Oh, so it's just a dream?"

  He wiped the cold sweat off his forehead. It was only by this point that he realized he just had a terrible nightmare.

  At this moment, Geraldson was laid across a sickbed. Due to his colleague receiving a wound from a gunshot, he did not leave the hospital but instead stayed with his colleague by the sickbed. He ended up spending the entire day there.

  Geraldson looked at his phone and saw that it was past midnight again. The room was drowned in darkness. His colleague who had just come out of the operation was sleeping in front of him.

  Even Geraldson's shriek failed to wake him up.

  "Phew!"

  Geraldson slowly got up. After getting several hours of sleep, he was in slightly better spirits. Only he could feel his throat swelling up in what may be the early symptoms of a fever.

  So, he reached for the jug of water by the bed and poured himself a cut of water which he enthusiastically gulped down.

  After Geraldson finished his drink, he tried to call home again but the line on the other end was still busy.

  "Just what is happening?"

  Geraldson frowned, he had never encountered such a situation before. Initially, he thought it was only this area's communication network that was cut off. It was not until later on when he discovered that the entire Los Angeles was similarly affected.

  According to the government announcements, the entire Los Angeles communication network was invaded by some sort of virus. Even the communication satellite systems had failed.

  It was just one trouble after the other…

  Geraldson hung up the phone helplessly and reached for his pack of cigarettes almost instinctively. When he took out a cigarette and stuck it between his lip to light it, he remembered that he was in a patient ward. He decided to get up and head over to the corridor.

  It was the early hours of the dawn, there was a pin-dropping silence in the corridor. A stretch of lights followed down toward the other end of the corridor with patient wards lined up along both sides. The darkness-filled mouth on the other end of the door bared its fangs, seemingly attempting to devour everything in the corridor.

  For some reason, Geraldson suddenly felt an overbearing mood weighing on him.

  Shaking his head, Geraldson approached the window at the end of the corridor. He quietly lit the cigarette and drew in a large puff with all he had.

  A large portion on the tip of the cigarette immediately smoldered and emitted a fierce light.

  "Huff!"

  When Geraldson breathed out again, a thick puff of cigarette smoke came out together with his breath. He felt his tightening heart relax slightly.

  It was at that moment when Geraldson suddenly heard faint footsteps coming from behind him.

  The sound of the footsteps came from the stairway on the other end of the corridor. Usually, the sound of the footsteps would not be audible from such a distance, but in the dead of the night, the sound was greatly amplified, causing Geraldson to hear the subtle sound of footsteps.

  There was something off with these footsteps…

  Geraldson slowly turned around. As an investigator who had gone through rigorous training, he could distinguish the difference between the footsteps of an average person and trained professionals.

  On the first impression, there may be little separating the sound of footsteps of an average person and trained professionals, but it was proven that the footsteps of a trained professional were more subtle.

  The subtlety here referenced to a more balanced span in between footsteps and the volume of the footsteps should be largely similar as well. This exercise was a result of improved coordination in body control.

  Could this person be a special forces veteran like himself?

  As one of the elites in Cobra Special Forces, despite his long years of retirement, Geraldson still maintained his extremely disciplined practices. Even his body was kept in perfect condition. The only blip was that he was long past his peak.

  However, he still had his accumulated experience with him. He could sense something special in the extremely practiced footsteps.

  An ominous premonition…

  Chapter 252: Finishing Move |

  With the Christmas season approaching, the North American Continent was starting to see the first signs of winter. However, the breeze from outside the window behind Geraldson was nothing compared to the surging chill in front of him.

  The cigarette on the corner of his lip was still burning faintly, spreading their ashes in the air. Shaking off the ashes was the last thing on Geraldson's mind, for he was staring intently at the stairway at the other end of the corridor.

  The corridor was covered in pitch-black darkness. The steady sound of footsteps was slowly inching closer toward Geraldson. Each dull footstep seemed to beat into his heart.

  Geraldson instinctively reached for the gun on the inside of his shirt.

  It was a Beretta M9, measuring 217 millimeters and weighing only 0.96 kilograms. Its muzzle velocity was 333.7 meters per second with an effective range of 50 meters...

  This gun was Geraldson's faithful companion that had been on countless missions with him. Over the years, it had claimed more than dozens of lives.

  With his fingers firmly grasping his companion and feeling the familiar pattern on the handle, Geraldson felt himself becoming slightly more composed. He continued glaring at the dark tunnel.

  After what was a couple of seconds which felt like several minutes, the approaching footstep had finally reached the stairway. Geraldson saw a man in a trench coat and a cap appearing at the end of the corridor…

  The man was roughly 180 centimeters tall, medium build. He wore a black trench coat with a black scarf wrapped around him, topped off with yet another black fedora. From a distance, he seemed like just another person coming to the hospital for treatment.

  The brim of the man's fedora and his scarf shielded his appearance from Geraldson.

  Geraldson did not let his guard down when he saw this. His heart tightened as he raised his gun and aimed at the mysterious man near thirty-meters away from him.

  "I'm a federal investigator! Sir, please hold your ground immediately!"

  Geraldson's urgent voice echoed across the empty corridor but the mysterious man seemed to pay no mind to the warning. The mysterious man kept his head down and defiantly approached Geraldson.

  "I'll give you one more warning, hold your ground! Stop right there!"

  Geraldson gritted his teeth and shot another warning.

  However, the second warning was just as ineffective.

  At this point, Geraldson had all but confirmed the approaching person's identity. He aimed at his opponent's right thigh and swiftly pulled the trigger!

  "Bang!"

  A violent gunshot shattered the tranquility of the night and rang across the corridor. However, Geraldson displayed a look of utter shock as his pupils shrank rapidly.

  He saw clear as day that the moment he pulled the trigger, the opponent only slightly shifted his right leg and dodged the bullet!

  Was it a coincidence? Or…

  Seemingly understanding the danger the opponent posed, Geraldson no longer held back as he aimed at the opponent's chest and hammered away at the trigger!

  "Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!"

  A round of gunshots followed after but the very moment Geraldson fired, the mysterious man suddenly avoided the volley of bullets as if his body was possessed by swift lightning. He bent his back downward at lightning speed!

&nbs
p; All five shots failed to hit their mark!

  Geraldson felt the hair on his back standing up when he saw the mysterious man continue approaching him nonchalantly. How was it that this opponent could dodge bullets? It was impossible!

  Geraldson suddenly spotted what appeared to be a cut left behind by a bullet on the corner of the mysterious man's clothes. He immediately realized that the reason his opponent was able to dodge his bullets was that the opponent's attention was fixed on his fingers.

  The moment Geraldson's finger clicked the trigger, his opponent had calculated the trajectory of the bullet. This allowed his opponent to perform what may appear to the untrained eye as dodging the bullet, but it was not truly the case.

  It was a form of prediction!

  It was near impossible for an average person to make such a prediction since a bullet's velocity was up to 300 meters per second, which was far beyond a human's reactionary speed. There was no other way to avoid a bullet other than to form a prediction in advance!

  With this in mind, Geraldson wrapped both his arms around the handle, shielding his finger on the trigger and aimed at the opponent's head.

  "Let's see how you can dodge this if you can't see my fingers bending!"

  Geraldson muttered to himself and icily pulled the trigger again!

  "Thwack!"

  However, the instant Geraldson pulled the trigger, he felt his vision turning into a blur. All he could see was what seemed to be the opponent's rapidly enlarging figure!

  The opponent moved extremely fast and crashed into Geraldson's field of vision like a freight train. Before Geraldson managed to properly pull the trigger, the barrel of the gun was trapped in the firm grasp of an iron claw!

  No good!

  Geraldson's pupils shrunk. At the moment, the gun barrel was being held down by the opponent and had its bolt jammed. There was no way the gun was going to fire no matter how hard he pulled the trigger. Geraldson decided on a quick retreat and performed a sweeping kick on the opponent's lower body while he leaped backward!