On the quality improvement of Omega agents

The person from District I called Al held his breath when the diamonds rolled out of the velvet bag. He stared blankly at the priceless and shining stones that almost covered his palm, his pupils dilated slightly, and his eyes widened. Time is speechless.

Randall smiled, "How much are these worth?"

Al looked up at him: "Where did you get that?"

Randall shrugged, his tone brisk: "It's just a small gain that I got by chance."

The voice of the people in Area I was a little hoarse, and he said: "These are enough for you to spend in your next life, Yankee."

Randall raised his eyebrows and looked at him: "These can only go through black market channels, do you have any introduction?"

The people in Area I stared at him for two seconds, as if they suddenly became interested in Randall's messy blond hair. He paused and said slowly, "I can ask you."

Randall's eyes slid across the opponent's face, he nodded casually, and then said: "I need to make a move as soon as possible, otherwise I'm afraid there will be no chance."

The people in Area I put the diamonds back and handed them back to Randall, "Okay, I can ask you now, but I need to make a few phone calls."

Randall smiled, he looked gentle and harmless: "I understand, thank you." The blond man's blue eyes were dimmed under the dim light, and he watched the old acquaintance called Al turned and walked into the room .

He and Al had known each other a long time ago.Randall's first mission was in District I. At that time, the war had not yet broken out. Al ran an ancestral watch repair shop and had a low status as a black market dealer.Cut off from all contact with headquarters, the young Breakpoint agent finally had to go through Al to get the weapons he needed and the credentials he needed to evacuate.At that time, he had nothing, and Al barely got a penny of reward, and the people in Area I said to him with a sly look, "You are the biggest reward, agent, you can go far, just treat it as a investment."

Later Randall gave him a lot of things, without touching the interests of the CIA.

They are not friends, but they are happy business partners after all.

The blond agent disliked his "sentimentality". He stood there and waited for a minute, watching the broken old clock creaking and swinging, but it couldn't strike.It's already on time.It's almost time.

"...Yes, it is indeed the man on the arrest warrant."

"I understand that he wants to be able to get rid of the diamond in his hand."

"I don't think it's a trap, sir. I'm afraid he was in a hurry to leave here, and he didn't think of the risk of trading here."

"...I know, I will hold him back, you guys hurry up. Also, I want my share of the bounty to be transferred to the account immediately."

……

Al hung up the phone and turned around. The Middle Eastern man's eyes widened for a moment, and he took a big step back. His back bumped against the wall covered with maintenance tools, and there was a series of tinkling noises.

——The blond agent leaned against the dilapidated door frame, looking at him with one corner of his lips raised.

"Al, Al." Randall used a tone that was almost chant. He read the Christian name of the people in District I, looking cold and regretful.

Al watched Randall's movements closely, his hands slowly reaching behind his back.

Randall blinked, "I won't ask you why, can you tell me how much the special situation in Area I paid for?"

Al swallowed, and said, "20."

Randall smiled. He changed his position and stood up. "I thought I deserved a little more."

The person in Area I laughed lowly, he just felt his throat tighten, he knew what kind of person he was facing,—well, maybe it wasn't clear enough. "I need that money, James, this store is going out of business."

Randall was stunned for a moment, and he curled his lips: "I never knew you could be so naive."

The people in District I said slowly: "Yes, you don't understand." All that exists in their world is use and betrayal, and this small shop is the only thing he has left that is worth sticking to.

Randall shrugged: "When will they arrive?"

The voice of the person in Area I is low and hoarse: "The slowest is 5 minutes."

The blond agent raised his eyebrows with interest, as if he didn't see the movement of Al's hand. "Oh, maybe our cooperation has come to an end." Randall approached step by step.

The people in Area I swallowed hard: "Randall, listen, I have to. Please..."

The blond man's voice was very soft, he interrupted Al: "Thank you for your investment."

Al's shooting speed is very fast, and he has not neglected to practice.But he didn't have time to pull the trigger.

"Kala" sounded crisply, and when Randall let go of his hand, his last words had just fallen.

The blond agent threw the lit lighter into the counter, stepped out of the small watch repair shop, and strode away before the flames burst into the sky.

He has never had many things worth protecting, and he is too lazy to investigate how many difficulties and reasons there are in "betrayal".

Once betrayed, there is never a chance to turn back.

The blond man touched the pinna subconsciously. The micro-communicator had already turned into powder between his fingers. The man touched nothing and smiled to himself.

If I say I won't look back, sir, won't you show up.

Bruce was silent, the air pressure in the cabin was frighteningly low.With his ears used to the noise of the propellers, Bruce checked his gun in the turbulence of the air current.It was a small Sig pistol with the serial number erased, and Bruce was used to it.

This time it was still a high-sounding negotiation task. He only needed to wear a three-piece suit and meet the seller who planned to sell the four Soviet-made nuclear warheads, and then figure out how those damn deadly weapons came out. Those people want to buy.

This is not a difficult task for Bruce.

"Sir, your phone number."

Bruce took the satellite phone from the commando sitting beside him, "This is Stuart."

The person on the other side of the phone spoke hastily: "Bruce, your agents are now tossing District I upside down."

The dark-haired man is expressionless. ——Clark (CIA's intelligence chief in Area I, who had a dispute with the chief because Bruce blew up the black sand in the previous article) really needs to improve his professionalism.

"Be clear, Clark, my agents are on a mission."

The intelligence chief of Region I paused on the phone. He obviously heard the sound of the helicopter's oars and hesitated: "Are you not at the headquarters?"

Bruce got a little impatient: "I have no obligation to report to you."

Clark returned to the topic in Bruce's unfriendly tone: "His evacuation was too high-profile. He set fire to a watch shop, and now the military police with some combat capabilities in District I are hunting around with his portrait."

"What are you trying to say?" Bruce asked coldly.

"Breakpoint No. [-] is now on the most wanted list of the government in District I. I think it is only a matter of time before he turns to the CIA branch in District I for help. Has the bureau given up on that blond gentleman? I need a clear instruction .”

Bruce frowned,——Clark is unlikely to appear on the CIA's next list of regional intelligence officers.The man's voice was light: "Mr. James has nothing to do with the CIA." - He would not go to the CIA agency for help, Bruce knew his agents too well.

A beast will never easily expose its vitals to a person, even if he trusts you.But now, he probably doesn't have the honor of winning the trust.

Clark whispered, "Understood."

The helicopter descended slowly, and the village in the distance was shrouded in thick darkness.Bruce slipped the pistol into the holster on his body and smoothed the creases it had made in his shirt.

The night gradually deepened.

Randall was busy hiding in the streets of District I at this time, and thanks to his "old friend", he had a hard time.

The man jumped out from under the dirty and smelly gutter, his figure could hardly be seen in the dark night.The military police who searched just passed by here.He needs to find a relatively safe channel to get fake documents.

The blond agent climbed into a small hotel through the back wall and landed almost silently.At this moment, he is really like a feline, nocturnal, stealthy in crisis.

Three days passed quickly, and Randall knew that he was getting closer and closer to that boundary.His eyes were red, his vision was doubled, and his brain was buzzing with dissatisfaction from lack of sleep.

The military and police from District I were mobilized, no matter how incompetent they were, they slowly approached him.

He needs to get out of here as soon as possible, otherwise what is waiting for him is the dirty "advanced cell" in District I, a lot of punishments, and death.

He didn't want to die yet, at least not here, in those cells with a bunch of disgusting rats.Randall knew that if he continued playing like this, he would die one day, but he preferred to die on the battlefield——the bullets were scorching hot, pouring down like a torrential rain in June, that kind of battlefield.

He likes fighting, not hide-and-seek.

Throwing himself on the bed that probably wouldn't allow for a comfortable night's sleep, the blond man lay there for a couple of seconds, until his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the house.The man straightened up, touched his ears habitually, and put his hands down after a second pause.

He is very tired.Randall wasn't going to think about it any more, it wasn't his type to plan for a rainy day, and that made him feel like a scumbag.

He never counts things that he doesn't care about, even if that thing is called life and death.

The blond agent rubbed his dirty cheeks into the equally dirty pillow, pressed the abdominal wound under his body indifferently, and then fell asleep on his stomach.

——Obviously, the "stalkers" in District I didn't expect their target to be so unscrupulous that they would break into a hotel casually, and sleep until the room service person opened the door the next day without waking up.

As it happened, a search team was less than 100 meters away from the hotel.

After 2 minutes, the two sides met each other, and two and a half minutes later, the gunfire broke out. ——Mr. Randall needs a little time to get the firearms he needs through "close communication".

Randall, who had slept comfortably all night, was finally refreshed. He liked this feeling. How do you say it in the game, resurrected with full blood?

——Even if the price is to trigger a one-on-forty chasing street fight.Randall had had enough of hiding, preferring hot sun and gunshots to dark corners and squeaking rats.Take a good night's sleep, and then have a bloody game, and he doesn't care about the rest.

Oh, maybe he's a bit pathologically self-destructive, but that's pretty normal isn't it, you can't expect a leopard to turn into a mouse with its tail between its legs after having tasted the thrill of galloping and hunting, let alone an adrenal gland The addicted man ignores the thumping desire in his blood.

The blond agent turned around and shot a burst, and a person from Zone I who was chasing at the front fell down immediately, and a bullet flew past Randall's ear, making a "chirp" sound.The man licked his lips, then turned and ran away.

Randall is a nimble feline, he shuttles between the streets and alleys of this small town, turning around to give those who pursued him a paw.He had been circling with the group of military police for nearly an hour, and it was already noon, and the sun was shining too much, making people's skin burn.Randall did not slow down his speed, the gunshots kept approaching, he had to speed up as much as possible in the S-shaped running, the bullets dug small holes in the dirt wall beside him, and the dust shot up, It's very choking.The sun shines on his skin without hesitation, the man's golden hair shines, Randall thinks of Bruce while running, his chief should have arrived by now, I don't know if he will enjoy the extra intensity of Area I sunshine.

He should get more sun, that pale vampire look.

Randall imagined his officer squinting his eyes under the too bright sun, and suddenly he felt very happy.

——Even if a bullet just whizzed through his lower back.