Zaire closed his eyes.
The truck accelerated, driving straight ahead.
The truck stopped, then accelerated again.
Left, right...
After a minute, Zaire stopped forcibly memorizing the route.
Clearly, the driver was overly cautious.
With each segment of the journey, they seemed to circle back repeatedly.
It was as if they were evading pursuit or dodging police inspections.
Twenty minutes later...
The box truck entered the Hell's Kitchen.
It traversed several dilapidated and potholed deserted streets.
Finally, it pulled into a factory with a weathered sign hanging, reading 'Feizi Auto Repair Shop'.
Clang—
The box truck abruptly stopped.
Simultaneously, the door was yanked open by someone.
At the same time, by Zaire's ear...
A man with a heavy Slavic accent spoke:
"Mr. Zaire, please step out!"
At this moment, Zaire, wearing a black mask, seemed like an indifferent bystander.
He slowly got up and stepped out of the truck.
His movements were leisurely and relaxed.
There was no panic or confusion typical of someone being kidnapped.
His feet touched the ground.
Zaire, whose hands were not bound, removed his black mask and squinted to survey his surroundings.
It seemed to be an auto repair shop.
It looked like it had been abandoned for a long time.
Even the oil stains on the ground were covered with dust.
Only some covered repair tools lay in the corner.
And a few scrapped engines, showcasing past glory.
"Hey!"
Just then, not far from Zaire...
A bald white man who was chatting with his accomplice seemed to notice the hostage's movement.
The bald white man's eyes instantly turned fierce, and he shouted:
"What the hell! Who told you to take off your mask?"
Before he finished speaking, the bald white man rushed forward.
Seemingly intending to give Zaire an unforgettable lesson.
However, the Slavic man with a gun jumped out of the box truck.
He stopped the hot-tempered bald white man.
"Joseph, calm down... he's cooperating!"
Zaire, squinting, looked over upon hearing the voice.
He noticed that the Slavic man was significantly shorter than average.
Even with thick platform shoes, he was only about five feet tall.
The Slavic man with the accent moved closer to Zaire.
He stared at Zaire, who had no expression, and politely said:
"Mr. Zaire, please follow me..."
"Wait."
Zaire, with a slight frown, glanced around at the scattered figures and disappointment filled his face.
"Is this all the Sports Suit Gang has? Just a few people?"
Even counting the driver who had just opened the door and got off, there were only four people in the workshop.
Due to Zaire's words, they quickly became vigilant, and the short Slavic man lifted the gun barrel.
The bald white man in front of Zaire.
And behind the bald white man, a strong black man who had just picked up a machete!
"Hey, kid! We're not just some gang! We're professionals hired at a high price to handle problems!"
"Understand! Professionals!"
The bald white man smiled broadly, his tone mocking.
Then he cracked his neck a few times.
He stepped forward boldly.
Opened his strong arms and lunged toward Zaire!
"Hired killers?"
Zaire shook his head slightly, regret written all over his face.
Suddenly, he stiffened his spine.
His muscles tensed suddenly, releasing an incredibly powerful force!
Zaire's feet slid and stepped.
In the blink of an eye, he brushed past the charging bald white man!
And he took advantage of the bald white man's widened eyes and brief moment of shock.
Moved his feet to hide behind the opponent!
Bang—
At the same time.
A muffled gunshot rang out, blood splattering everywhere!
However, it was the bald white man, used as a human shield by Zaire, who screamed in pain!
The short Slavic man who had fired seemed shocked by Zaire's swift movements.
He accidentally injured his subordinate.
This made him completely furious:
"He... he can dodge bullets!"
At the moment, Zaire couldn't withstand bullets head-on.
But after two enhancements in the simulator.
Whether it was explosive power or reaction speed, it far exceeded that of ordinary people!
Moreover, he didn't need to dodge bullets.
Just the rotating muzzle of the enemy.
Everything happened in the blink of an eye.
The bald man screamed, clutching his shoulder, staggering.
...........
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