Chapter 132: Counterattack
Steven moved the engine aside and then directly pulled out a large white bed from the extradimensional space.
Cara's eyes widened in shock. She struggled to grasp the scene unfolding before her.
Steven couldn't be bothered to explain. He turned to Elinor. "Save Henry at all costs! Let me know what medications and equipment you need, and I'll get them."
Elinor, accustomed to dire situations, remained composed despite Henry's grievous condition. She calmly listed what she needed. And then Steven retrieved the required medications and equipment from the extradimensional space, handing them over to Elinor.
"How is he? Can he be saved?" Steven asked, his voice heavy with concern.
Elinor swiftly donned surgical clothes, mask, and gloves, her focus transforming her into a figure of professional precision and dedication. As she carefully cut away Henry's clothes, her expression became grave.
"His condition is critical. The bullet is lodged in a precarious location. If it has damaged internal organs, we might not be able to save him under these circumstances."
Steven took a deep breath and patted Elinor on the shoulder. "Do your best!"
He had exhausted every resource. If Henry still couldn't make it, there was nothing more within his power.
Cara began to cry again. Finding her tears intolerable, Steven barked, "Shut up! Don’t disrupt us. If you jeopardize the surgery, you will face the consequences!"
Cara's sobs ceased immediately. She bit her lip and murmured, "Maybe I should wait outside. I'm not much use here anyway."
Outside, she had noticed a comfortable couch, readily available water, a large TV, and food in the kitchen. It beckoned respite from the tense, bloody scene.
Seeing through her motives, Steven's lips curled into a cold smile. "You need to stay here and help," he said, enunciating each word.
"But I don’t know how to treat people!" Cara protested.
"You're not needed for that. You can pass instruments, wipe sweat, can't you? Besides, your presence is vital for Henry's morale," Steven retorted.
Before she could counter, his tone hardened. "That's final! You will stay here. I’m going out."
With that, he moved to the door and locked it from the outside.
He couldn't let this woman cause trouble in his room.
"I’ll deal with those bastards first, and then I'll find a dark place to bury you," Steven muttered coldly.
He spotted the cup Cara had used and discarded it into the trash with distaste.
Returning to the living room, he meticulously organized his arsenal. After readying his assault rifle, handgun, large-caliber sniper rifle, and counting grenades, he set off from the house.
The central courtyard of the community was eerily picturesque, red flowering plum blossoms adorning the ground. Littered among the flowers were countless corpses.
Yet the snowmobile parked in the snow and the dozens of bags of food nearby were an irresistible lure. After Steven took Henry, the desperate tenants had emerged, dragging those supplies back inside.
Steven descended the stairs, each step measured and deliberate, letting his rage simmer without disrupting his rhythm. The opponents had fired the first shot. Not responding would be a grave discourtesy.
Initially, he had planned a more discreet method of retribution, something as subtle as poison. But if they preferred a more intense approach, Steven was more than willing to reciprocate.
Nightfall had cloaked the sky.
As he continued his descent, Steven pulled out his phone and sent a message to everyone still alive in the community’s group chat.
[Everyone, gather on the 4th floor,] he ordered.
Stowing his phone in his chest pocket, he took up his rifle and headed to the fourth floor to await their arrival.
Before long, neighbors began to trickle in. They approached Steven with palpable anxiety, wary of incurring his wrath and thus sealing their fates. None dared defy him. Without Steven’s provision of food, they faced a certain death from starvation anyway.
By now, less than twenty people remained in Building 25. They congregated, their gazes averted, filled with terror.
"Mr. Rogers, those who attacked you have nothing to do with us!"
"We don't know anything. We... we are your most loyal!"
By now, Steven had killed nearly a hundred people. His aura was potent, enough to instill fear into anyone who met his eyes.
When someone kills, they develop something called a murderous aura.
This aura changes a person's demeanor and eyes.
And by now, Steven had killed nearly a hundred people!
This intense murderous aura was enough to make everyone who saw his eyes feel fear.
Steven's voice was icy. "Those people betrayed us and ambushed Henry and me, leaving Henry critically wounded. They must pay. Tonight, we will launch a counterattack."
Their faces blanched at his words. "Counterattack? With just us?"
They thought Steven had lost his mind. In a daylight scuffle, Steven's submachine gun gave him an edge. But at night, with barely a dozen of them, an assault seemed suicidal.
Steven continued, "You don't need to worry about the assault. I'll handle those inside the building. Your job is to keep watch around."
He added, "If you see anyone jumping from the building, finish them off."
The group was bewildered. Why would anyone jump from the building unprovoked? But as long as Steven didn’t expect them to charge into the darkness, they complied.They nodded, masking their reluctance, and confirmed their readiness to follow his orders.
Steven pointed to Building 21 in front of them, the territory of the Crazy Wolf Gang.
"Now, go surround that building!"
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