Chapter 209 A Disparate Contest
At that moment, Quentin swung his bat, landing on his target's head with a crunch. Brain matter splattered.
The Ten of Diamonds was down.
The guy was supposed to be a mere Two of Diamonds, yet he fought with the ferocity of the King of Spades! He’d been hiding his true strength all along.
Quentin shook off the thought and checked his watch. His jaw dropped.
"Damn it! " He yelled.
Paul Three had already racked up ten points!
Quentin had a measly three.
"This wouldn’t do."
"I needed to step up my game. Time for my signature move."
With a running leap, Quentin sprang onto the rooftop of a nearby house. He scanned the area, his eyes narrowing. There, in a house across the street, he spotted his target. Another Card Club member was there, lying low.
There was no time for subtlety.
Quentin pulled a grenade from his belt. With a grin, he planted a kiss on its side. “Don’t fail me now, baby,” he whispered. “Give daddy another point.”
He pulled the pin and lobbed the grenade high into the air. Then, assuming a perfect batting stance, he raised his bat with one leg up, his gaze focused. Under the moonlight, he looked both ridiculously handsome and uunhinged.
“First base!” he roared.
The grenade descended, a deadly projectile silhouetted against the moon.
Clang!
A direct hit.
The grenade sailed through the air before disappearing through a window. A heartbeat later, a deafening explosion ripped through the night.
Six of Hearts, neutralized.
Quentin whooped in triumph, but his celebration was cut short by Elbert’s voice cold and sharp voice through his watch. “Quentin, you utter moron! No grenades in the city! What if you’d hurt an innocent bystander? Score reset to zero!”
Quentin flinched. The watch had a comm system? How the hell did Paul Three know what he was doing?
“Quentin!” Elbert’s voice boomed again.
Like a schoolboy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Quentin mumbled. “Yes, Sir.”
Meanwhile, Elbert stood outside the Wavehaven SWAT headquarters. Inside, a high-security wing had special kinds of prisoners; cyborgs. This was no ordinary lockup; this was a supermax prison, designed to contain even the most enhanced individuals.
The surviving members of the Seven of Spades, along with other captured cyborgs, were imprisoned here. But the Card Club wasn’t about to abandon their own. A rescue team consisting of three strong people had infiltrated the building, preparing to save their comrades before the final assault.
However, they hadn’t anticipated Elbert.
Inside the headquarters, Trinity, Leonard, and several high-ranking SWAT officers huddled around a table, finalizing the undercover operation. Trinity couldn’t shake her unease. Thirty cyborgs. These weren’t just criminals; they were walking weapons, capable of wreaking havoc on an unimaginable scale.
Officer Reed, however, seemed unfazed. He studied the plans, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Suddenly, a tremendous crash echoed from outside. It sounded like… a wall being smashed through.
Leonard stiffened, his eyes widening in alarm. “What was that?”
Captain Morrison, his earpiece crackling with static, listened intently to the report. “Sir, we have a situation. Someone just breached the perimeter, and they're fighting outside.”
Breached the perimeter? This was no ordinary thug.
Leonard swore under his breath. The supermax prison! He hadn’t expected this. The Card Club was bolder than he’d imagined, launching a rescue mission right under their noses. Moreover, Elbert… Elbert couldn’t have anticipated this either.
He turned to Trinity, his face grim. “Miss Lisa, I think we have a problem. We need your expertise. This just got real.”
Trinity, sensing the gravity of the situation, nodded curtly. “Alert all units. Level One emergency. I repeat, Level One emergency. Deploy heavy weapons.”
Leonard, his face a mask of grim determination, led the charge. They burst out of the room, the SWAT team and Trinity right behind him.
But as they exited the building, a blur of motion shot past them. It wasn’t attacking them; it slammed into the window beside them with a bone-jarring crunch.
The reinforced glass shattered, sending shards flying. A figure in black, limp and unconscious, was embedded in the window frame.
Two more figures followed in quick succession. One crashed through the door they’d just exited, while the other landed with a thud in a nearby planter. Both were laying there, still.
The Four of Clubs, the Eight of Hearts, and the Ten of Diamonds; neutralized.
The SWAT team stared in stunned silence. Where had these guys come from? What the hell had just happened?
Only Leonard seemed to understand. He rushed over to the unconscious figure by the window and flipped him over. He was a Victoria bloodline cyborg.
His phone buzzed with a message from Elbert: [Damage report on my tab.]
Leonard chuckled. That damn kid. Nothing got past him. He’d been worried for nothing. Alas, he should never underestimate Elbert.
“Officer Reed?” Trinity sounded concerned. “What’s going on?”
Leonard grinned. “I panicked for nothing, thought I’d missed something crucial. Turns out, I’m just out of my depth.” He clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Miss Lisa. Everything’s under control. Trust me.”
Trinity, though relieved the immediate danger had passed, couldn’t shake off her unease.
'Three cyborgs, down in an instant. What kind of power did that require? That'd be B8 level at least. But according to their intel, there were only a handful of B+ cyborgs in all of Veridiania, and they were stationed at the border.'
'There was no record of anyone with that level of enhancement in Wavehaven.'
'And who was this “God” Officer Reed had mentioned?'
These thoughts flickered in her mind, making her feel more stunned.
Meanwhile, Quentin, chastised but undeterred, continued his one-man war on the Card Club. He’d replaced the grenades with lead balls, but his enthusiasm for long-range attacks remained undimmed.
Still, he couldn’t shake a feeling of disappointment. Paul Three had already taken down eighteen targets. Quentin, despite his best efforts, had only managed seven. He was losing, and it stung.
“Third base!” he yelled, pouring all his frustration into the swing. The metal ball whizzed through the air, finding its mark with deadly accuracy. Another Card Club member, this one indulging in a bit too much Veridiania wine, slumped over with a neat hole in his forehead.
That was the last red dot on his watch.
Quentin sighed, slinging his bat over his shoulder. He felt like a kid who’d flunked a test.
Thus with that, all 26 Card Club assassins were neutralized; either dead or incapacitated.
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