CHAPTER 884: CHAPTER 884: THE DESERT ARMY’S FIRST BATTLE

While Sand Sculpture and Comedian were standing on the rooftop watching the chaos, Blackwater Alley in the distance had already turned into a scene of complete mayhem.

Tarlan Raider and his three cronies had just walked out of York’s home, and not far away, a group of fierce-looking guys came chasing after them.

This group was uniformly dressed in vests, revealing muscular arms, and carrying long guns, short cannons, and short knives—basically, every imaginable weapon.

Initially, Tarlan thought he was caught up in some gang conflict, until one of them fired a shot into the sky, yelling at him.

"Up ahead! Stop!"

"Don’t run!"

Countless thoughts flashed through Tarlan’s mind in an instant, including being sold out by York, and the possibility of these gang members being hired by the Enlightenment Society, until Sour Fish grabbed his arm.

"Holy shit! Run!!"

Realizing it was not the time to ponder, Tarlan suddenly snapped back to reality and started running without a second word.

"Run!"

Seeing the leader charging ahead, the three players quickly followed behind, rushing towards the other end of the alley.

All they had were pistols, barely managing ten magazines among the four of them, while the enemy had a complete arsenal including shotguns and rifles—their firepower wasn’t even on the same level!

Even if they had the skills of Awakeners, this wasn’t the time for showing off.

Seeing the prize slipping away, Morse quickly urged the Hyena Gang members to chase after them.

Thus began a street chase between the two groups.

Listening to the sound of bullets whizzing past his ears, Tarlan cursed angrily.

"Damn it, have these NPCs gone mad?! I’m just completing a mission, and they pull this kind of stunt?!"

Just as he was speaking, a bullet whizzed past his ear.

The sound piercing his ear canal startled him, making him shrink his neck instinctively, causing him to run even faster.

This was a new map, several time zones away from the save and respawn points.

If he died here, not only would all his equipment explode, but all the unsaved experience would be lost along with the newly acquired hidden mission.

This loss could not simply be described as a significant setback; it was an overwhelming disaster!

Following closely behind the Army Corps Leader, the Medical Miracle couldn’t help but complain.

"You’re just too damn reckless!"

Sour Fish: "Exactly! I stand with the dog plan on this one."

Tarlan Raider: "MMP, is now the time for internal conflict?! Can’t you just join me in cursing the dog plan?"

Angry Fatty Liver: "..."

Medical Miracle: "If I were Ah Guang, I would definitely paint a big target on your face."

Sour Fish: "What big—"

Old Cabbage had only said half of his sentence when another hostile group appeared in front of them.

Unlike the vest-wearing group behind them, these people were not only dressed sharply but possessed a much more refined demeanor.

However, despite their refinement, the pu-9 submachine guns they carried suggested they weren’t keen on negotiations.

Tarlan Raider’s instincts screamed a warning, and he pulled Sour Fish into a nearby alley with the others.

Almost at the same instant they turned a corner, the muzzles of those black guns spewed fire.

The rapid gunfire echoed through the street, and the barrage of bullets and gunpowder instantly left rows of holes on the clay houses lining the street.

Not only were Tarlan and his three cronies startled, but even Morse and York’s group, who were chasing closely behind, were struck by fear, hurriedly scattering and hiding to the side.

A poor henchman was hit in the chest by a stray bullet, blood splattering everywhere, as the others rushed him behind cover.

Seeing his underling collapsed in a pool of blood, Morse’s eyes turned cold as he looked murderously at the well-dressed man across the street, gritting his teeth as he spoke with a voice seething with venom.

"Tony... what the hell do you mean?"

Iron Hand Gang!

The other prominent gang in Blackwater Alley, running the largest nightclub and casino in the entire district!

Unlike Morse, this guy’s clientele wasn’t just roaches from Blackwater Street; occasionally even some Weilante people, especially the Military Aristocracy among them, would visit.

It was precisely because of this that Morse always felt uneasy, and was reluctant to stir up conflict with him easily.

Tony, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, calmly replaced the magazine of his submachine gun and loaded it with a click.

"No meaning, just skill for skill."

Looking back at the dying young man, Morse said angrily.

"What about my man?"

Tony curled his lips slightly, speaking in a slow manner.

"I stepped on a cockroach when I went out today, what does that have to do with me?"

Usually, the Weilante people prohibited direct confrontations among them, so they generally maintained restraint, even if someone was killed, it wouldn’t be brazenly done on the street, for nobody wanted to invite military suppression.

But today is different from the past; the Guards issued a bounty, so even if someone dies, it can be explained as a misfire in a battle.

Those Vellante people don’t really care about their lives or deaths. Having dealt with those big-nosed folks often, Tony is well aware of the boundaries of his actions.

Because of this, he doesn’t take these "Hyenas" in front of him seriously at all.

This arrogant attitude completely enraged Morse and the group of "Hyenas" beside him.

"Doctor" York couldn’t hold back first. Enraged, he shouted and lifted the iron pipe assault rifle in his hand, spraying a burst of "Brownian motion bullets" towards the opposite side of the street.

"Eat shit! Tony! Along with the ducks beside you!"

The bullets flying by caused members of the Iron Hand Gang to scramble for cover.

Though the iron pipe rifle wrapped in duct tape had no accuracy, the bullets it fired were still 7mm.

Angered by the crude insults, Tony narrowed his eyes into a slit, flicked the cigarette butt off, and crushed it with the toe of his shoe.

"You asked for it."

After speaking, he waved his index finger forward, and a group of men in formal attire, full of murderous intent, raised their pu-9 submachine guns, spraying bullets towards the other side of the street.

Unlike skirmishes with the regular army, these small gangsters’ firefights had no accuracy; most people hid behind cover, and weapons were pressed against the cover to shoot outward.

After all, they did not have insurance, killing people didn’t earn them a medal, and if killed, they wouldn’t even get a box of ashes. No one lost momentum, but few were genuinely risking their lives.

Both sides fired back and forth for a while, many bullets were fired, yet few were hit and lying on the ground.

Talan, hiding in the alley, was dumbfounded, while the Medical Miracle beside him swallowed hard.

"Wait, why are they fighting among themselves?!"

"How the hell would I know..."

Talan glanced outside, carefully observing the two groups, noticing their outfits were completely different in style.

At this moment, he noticed a familiar face among the group on the left.

Upon seeing that face, Talan’s eyes widened in rage, shouting angrily.

"Nock! Why did you betray me!"

Hearing the name Nock, Morse, who was battling Tony, was momentarily stunned, then laughed crazily, shouting.

"Nock? My name isn’t Nock, remember my name is Broken Finger! Are you dumb!"

The three consecutive "my" confused Talan, feeling like he had been kicked by a donkey.

He, a five-star model citizen of Los Santos, was actually mocked by an NPC!?

The Medical Miracle following him couldn’t help but want to laugh and cry at the same time, eventually bursting into tears of laughter.

"Hahaha, damn it!"

"What a brain-dead leader..."

"Dying of laughter, got played by artificial intelligence!"

Listening to the unrestrained laughter of his three confidants, Talan’s face turned liver-colored, the suffocation feeling worse than being killed.

After all, resurrection is a matter of three days, but being ridiculed on the forum is a lifetime.

"Damn it..."

He cursed, pulling out the gun tucked behind him, intending to join the fray to regain his ground, but Medical Miracle quickly pulled him back.

"Whoa, big brother, calm down!"

Sauerkraut Fish also said nervously.

"Yeah, boss, calm down! We’re just joking around; even if we were to bail, we wouldn’t do it during a mission, at least not until this task is completed."

With their persuasion, Talan gradually calmed down, thinking about countermeasures to escape the predicament.

Both gangs targeting them at the same time was likely not for money...

Especially that "Broken Finger" posing as Nock.

If it were for money, he would have acted when they opened the door just now, no need to wait until now!

Thinking of this, Talan had an idea and looked towards Fatty Liver, who had been silent.

"Fatty, check offline."

Fatty Liver opened his eyes, looked at him, and said faintly.

"...I just came back from offline; the thirty brothers at our inn have been taken out."

The forum was now full of lively chatter; after all, this war had been fought for so long, and it was the first time the Alliance’s army was captured "in formation."

Furthermore, it was by a group of Guards.

But he didn’t tell the commander these irrelevant tidbits.

They were in the same boat now; even laughing at each other held no meaning.

After hearing Fatty Liver’s account, Talan thought to himself, as expected.

The thirty-army members at the inn were taken out; the Vellante people indeed had their eyes on them.

But why were gangs here?

In an instant, a possibility suddenly emerged in Talan’s mind.

They have no evidence!

It’s not that the Weilante people are particularly disciplined, but every system has established procedures, and it’s impossible for individuals within this system to act recklessly.

Whoever gives the order must take responsibility; this logic holds even within the Army.

In other words, the Guards who targeted their port did not act on orders from above but made the decision based on suspicions about their own men.

Those Weilante people didn’t have enough evidence to prove that they and their party were Alliance spies!

If he died at the hands of their pursuit as an Alliance citizen, it might not be troublesome for the Southern Legion, but it would definitely be a problem for the Guards.

So they entrusted the task to local gangs, so even if they only caught a corpse, they could blame the gang warfare, turning a diplomatic issue into a public order one.

Talan quickly turned his thoughts and swiftly made a decision.

"Fatty Liver, go offline and private message our members, coordinate their testimonies! Insist we are here for... a business investigation."

Fatty Liver smiled faintly.

"They’ve already coordinated the testimonies... though they said it was tourism, not business."

Medical Miracle couldn’t help but give a thumbs-up.

"Impressive!"

Sour Cabbage Fish couldn’t help but praise.

"You’re brilliant, you should be the leader."

Fatty Liver curled his mouth slightly.

Though it had nothing to do with him, it seemed unnecessary to explain.

Hearing that his members were so aware, Talan showed some surprise on his face.

This batch of newcomers turned out to be quite decent, and it seemed there was hope for his ambition to reach T0!

The only drawback was that the tourism excuse was somewhat far-fetched, no wonder the other side was insistent they had issues.

But that’s fine.

Talan’s eyes flickered slightly, already having a new idea.

"I’ll cover you; try to escape north, get out of the settlement first, and then wait for my signal."

Sour Cabbage Fish looked at the regiment leader in surprise.

"What about you?"

"Surrender."

Talan’s lips curled into a smile, looking at his three core members who showed surprised expressions, he said calmly.

"I heard that the Enlightenment Society is calling the Residents of the Refuge to unite and resist the War Construction Committee’s remnants."

"I wonder if they would accept Residents of the Refuge who defect."

...

As Level 30 Awakeners joined the fray, the battle in Blackwater Alley reached a fever pitch.

After all, having once given heads to the Pangolin, the veteran Tarlan Raider might not have been the brightest, but he was absolutely skilled.

He first used a human ladder to send off three subordinates and then used a pistol alone to shoot his way out from between two groups.

Fortunately, when looking for the mission coordinates earlier, he circled Blackwater Alley several times, which was like scouting in advance.

He wasn’t familiar with the terrain here but wasn’t blindly stumbling around like a headless fly either.

After crossing two streets, he charged directly into the crowded market, firing shots into the air, causing chaos as people scattered in panic.

Seeing him rush into the market, Morse and Tony, who were in pursuit, turned green in the face.

Sure enough, shortly after that Simpleton stirred up trouble, a group of armed guards with bullet-proof armor arrived in assault vehicles.

Those armed guards weren’t taken aback; Talan threw away his pistol and walked towards them with his hands up, looking terrified.

"Thank heavens, you finally arrived!"

The Centurion leading the group approached him with a stern face.

"Did you fire the shots?"

Talan widened his eyes in surprise.

"Me?! Are you kidding? I’m just a tourist! Here’s my VM; it has my electronic visa. I came through customs, fully documented!"

When registering at customs, there is a body search. Unlike smugglers, those who go through customs are protected by Triumph City’s law.

At least in name.

As he spoke, Talan pointed at the gang members who persistently pursued him.

"They fired the shots! You can ask anyone."

The Centurion squinted, scrutinizing the Alliance fellow, his nose almost poking the ugly, annoying face.

He naturally knew who those thugs were, but he hadn’t expected that his own issued "wanted order" would end up assisting him, giving him a pretext for being persecuted and seeking shelter.

It didn’t matter though.

At least they caught someone.

The thirty Alliance citizens previously caught all insisted they were here for tourism, treating them like fools.

This was the Wasteland.

Besides, who goes on vacation in enemy territory?

He no longer hoped to pry anything out of their mouths, hoping instead to find a breakthrough with this man.

"Get in the car."

Talan let out a sigh of relief, showing a look of relief.

"Thank you."

Not wanting to hear him ramble, the Centurion gave him a shove, handing him over to his adjutant.

A gang member in a vest hesitated and approached to ask for a reward.

"Hey, so about that..."

The Centurion didn’t even glance at the clueless fellow, waving his hand to have him apprehended too, treated as spoils of the mission to report back.

Hiding in the crowd, Morse watched the withdrawing assault vehicle with an unreadable expression.

Tony, who had earlier clashed with him, now stood beside him, lighting another cigarette.

"The Centurion of the Guards, it seems this money isn’t easy to earn... I’ve decided, the Iron Hand Gang is out, you guys can play by yourselves."

Morse shot him a glance, forcing a smile.

"Thanks a lot."

"No need to thank me, but if you must, leave it for your funeral... even a small mosquito is still meat, I’ll take care of your turf."

Throwing the submachine gun to a subordinate, Tony shot him a mocking look, ignoring the glaring Hyenas, and led his men away.

York stared murderously at the figure until it vanished at the market’s end, then turned back to his boss, speaking in a hushed tone.

"Boss... are we just letting this go?"

Morse’s eyes narrowed into slits, withdrawing from Tony’s direction, then faced where the assault vehicles departed, and said slowly.

"I never make unprofitable deals..."

"This isn’t over."

Enlightenment Society...

He had lived in this city for so long, yet this was his first time hearing of the organization.

Mumbling the words, Morse quietly nodded and led his men away.

At the same time, on a rooftop in the distance.

Watching the scene unfold, Sand Sculpture and Comedian finished the last of their sunflower seeds.

When he saw Talan discard his weapon and approach the Weilante police voluntarily, the former widened his eyes in rare approval.

"Impressive... this Simpleton has a trick up his sleeve, coming up with the idea of surrendering."

He could guess what that guy was planning.

If he was right, they might pull off a coordinated act.

Comedian looked at him and asked.

"So, what now? How do we proceed?"

"We lie in wait."

Tossing the sunflower seed shells down the building, Sand Sculpture clapped his hands, grabbing the travel bag at his side.

It held all his gear.

Including a disassembled sniper rifle, a submachine gun, several grenades, and a drone.

As for how they smuggled these in, it was simple.

He and his teammate didn’t go the usual route when they disembarked, but exploited the Customs NPC’s blind spots, effectively glitching their way in.

"If the Enlightenment Society people are watching them, they might scout the vicinity of their detention center... we’ll keep an eye on the area and tag any suspicious individuals."

Comedian: "What counts as suspicious?"

Sand Sculpture grinned widely.

"NPCs as sneaky as us, or faces that show up for several consecutive days. Make good use of drones and facial recognition... don’t just stand there, let’s move."

Everything is according to plan!

Watching the sunflower seed shells drift in the wind, Comedian sighed and said.

"Such poor manners."