Chapter 893 - This Game Is Too Realistic

Chapter 893: Kidnapping The sunset shrank into a single point on the horizon, sinking into the sea with the lingering glow of dusk. Finally, it was time to clock out. Centurion Willoughby let out a sigh of relief. What a terrible day. After the explosion at noon, he first received a call from the secretary of the Minister of General Affairs of the Prahora Provincial Combat Zone, and later was turned away at the Governor's Mansion. That old fox, Ya Hui, who had given him explicit assurances before, now pretended nothing happened and left the mess for him to clean up with a dismissive "handle it yourself." Fortunately, as a Centurion, he had his own ways to pass the buck further down. Pushing away from his desk, Willoughby hummed a tune out of key as he left the garrison's building. Along the way, people would greet him now and then, and he would smile and nod in response. He relished the feeling of being respected. Especially when his authority was undermined elsewhere, those ingratiating smiles always slightly eased his mood. What a pity. His "Wasp" plan was truly a stroke of genius, and it was about to succeed. But who would have thought that someone under him would act on his own initiative, investigating the wrong case and involving the wrong people, even alerting the General Affairs department... One could only blame bad luck now. As he lamented his string of misfortunes, a black sedan smoothly halted right in front of him. It was a vehicle from the garrison. Willoughby paused, not recalling scheduling a driver to pick him up. Just then, the back door of the car suddenly opened, revealing a face he never expected to see. That face wore a cheerful smile, gazing at him like a hunter watching prey fall into a trap. The muzzle hidden in the shadows further froze his heartbeat and breath. "…Mr. Willoughby, please act a bit more naturally." While speaking, Taran gestured with his gun, patting the seat beside him lightly. "Then obediently sit next to me." Finally realizing what was happening, the blood gradually drained from Willoughby’s face. Not daring to risk whether the gun was loaded, he steadied himself with a trembling hand on the car door and shakily sat next to the "Wasp." It was only then that he noticed the person in the driver’s seat, or rather, the vaguely familiar face. Willoughby’s eyes widened, filled with disbelief. He had seen this guy before! He worked for the garrison! But he couldn't recall the guy’s name, given how many people greeted him daily. "You, you are—" "Kant, don’t trouble yourself trying to recall my name, you won’t remember it." Glancing at the rear-view mirror, Kant casually replied. His indifferent expression showed he didn’t care, yet Willoughby felt a glimmer of hope, as if clutching a life-saving straw. "You’re from the garrison’s intelligence division—" "Correct, I’m also an acolyte of the Enlightenment Society." Enlightenment Society? Willoughby’s mind went blank. Staring at him in shock, it took a while to squeeze out one sentence. "Are you… insane?" However, Kant didn’t bother to explain, instead starting the car and tossing a sentence to Taran seated in the back. "Wait—" Panicking, Willoughby grabbed the door handle, attempting to escape, only to find the door locked. Naturally, Taran wouldn’t let him slip away. He took out a pre-soaked cloth, pressing it firmly over Willoughby's nose and mouth. Before long, the struggling Willoughby went limp, reduced to calm, steady breathing. Confirming the man was still alive, Taran sealed the cloth, stained with an emerald-green crystal, in a plastic bag before looking at Kant, who had already started the car. "…What’s next?" "To the broadcasting station," Kant lit a cigarette nonchalantly, "I have questions for him." … Meanwhile, at the garrison's intelligence division. After half an hour of labor, Daniel had finally tidied up the "Enlightenment Society" hideout, rejoining the team with all the collected materials and staff wrapping up the operation. The "Wasp" plan was thus concluded, with the subsequent decision concerning the fate of the thirty detained Alliance travelers in Kartnod Prison looming. Carrying hastily prepared documents, Daniel intended to brief Centurion Willoughby on the matter. After all, the entirety of "Wasp" was orchestrated by him, with Daniel merely the executor. However, upon arriving, he found the office door tightly shut. It was then that Willoughby’s secretary happened to pass by in the corridor. Daniel hurried over to stop him with a question. "Where’s Centurion Willoughby?" The secretary pointed at his watch with an impatient look. "It's clock-out time; Centurion Willoughby left already. If you have business, come back tomorrow." Hearing the superior had left, Daniel’s expression grew peculiar, though he nodded. "…Alright then." He’d assumed Centurion Willoughby might wait for him a bit; surprisingly, his superior seemed more eager to go home. Perhaps he was overthinking it. Bidding farewell to Willoughby's secretary, Daniel glanced at his own watch and decided to return the documents to the intelligence division’s office. However, just then, he saw his assistant rushing over in a fluster. "Not good, something’s happened!" Watching his assistant laboring to catch his breath, face pale, Daniel frowned. Not daring to waste any time, he immediately asked. "What’s the situation?" After gasping, the assistant swallowed hard, looking as if he’d seen a ghost. "The missing signal… it reappeared." The missing signal? Daniel paused, initially not connecting the dots until his eyes landed on the document in hand, suddenly realizing it referred to that car planted with a bomb. His heart thudded as he brusquely shoved his assistant aside, racing toward the intelligence division. The car hadn’t exploded! Someone had jammed the signal! But why?! His mind was a storm of unanswered queries, each possibility veering towards the worst outcome. By the time he reached the intelligence office, everyone was engrossed in fervent discussions. Without sparing much thought, he grasped the closest staff member, urgently inquiring. "Where’s Kant? Where on earth is that guy!" The staff member looked tense, shaking his head in a panic. "I—I don’t know… He hasn’t shown up; the last contact was near Kartnod Prison." "Bullshit! I made that call myself; I know he was near Kartnod Prison!" Seizing his collar, Daniel furiously spat. "Find him! Immediately! I need to know where he is now, and why the bomb hasn’t been detonated!" "Y-yes!" Answering this near-impossible request with a near-crying face, the staff member complied. Daniel rushed past him, heading to a nearby terminal, stopping a staffer about to rise from the machine. "Where’s that car right now?" Inhaling nervously, the staffer responded with urgency. "We just pinpointed its signal; it’s currently traversing Route 14, likely headed for the northwest of Evernight Harbor..." With no satellites, they relied on planar signal location methods to determine the target's position. Specifically, they calculated the source’s direction and relative distance, then used the signal receiver's location to map its origin on a flat plane. Such positioning held significant margins for error and latency, contingent on road complexity. Daniel's mind raced, muttering under his breath. "The northwest of Evernight Harbor…what’s there?" Nearby, a staff member ventured uncertainly. "…Could it be the broadcast station?" Broadcast station? Daniel stilled, pupils constricting, a chilling thought suddenly surfacing. If it was the broadcast station, he could roughly envisage what that guy intended to do… But why? Seeing their group leader silent, the staff member swallowed, nervously adding. "…The locator signal is active; the bomb should still be intact, and it’s unlikely they’d defuse it while driving. If we dial that number now, we can blow the target up… Shall we?" Daniel remained silent. The plan had spiraled out of control; Daniel didn't even know who was sitting in that car anymore. Even if he dialed the number, it might not stop this runaway train. As Daniel stood there in a daze, the head of the intelligence division suddenly burst in through the door. Normally a composed man, his face was now overtaken by panic. He strode forward, seizing Daniel by the shoulders. "Have you seen Centurion Willoughby?" Seeing the bloodshot eyes, Daniel was taken aback, instinctively shaking his head. "No, I looked for him, but his secretary said he had already left—" Before he could finish, the chief, eyes bloodshot, cut him off roughly. "Someone saw him get into a black sedan in front of the garrison building—it’s the car we reported as damaged! What the hell are you doing?!" In that instant, Daniel felt as if a hundred-kilogram bomb exploded inside his head, leaving it buzzing blankly. That idiot not only failed to silence the "Wasp," but had also kidnapped their commanding officer! Collaborating with an enemy spy to abduct a Centurion... And during wartime, no less! It was nothing short of rebellion. Pale as a sheet, Daniel felt all strength leave him, nearly collapsing to the ground. Facing the chief's eruption, he managed to stammer a response from his quivering lips. "…They’re headed to the broadcasting station in the northwest part of the city. If we rush there now… we might stop him." The chief gave him a forceful shove, propelling him towards the office door. "Then what the hell are you waiting for? Get moving!" "If our officer loses even a hair on his head, I'll personally see you executed!" Terrified, Daniel sprinted out, convinced the chief wasn't joking. If anything happened to Centurion Willoughby, he'd be dead meat. Without delay, he assembled a team of a dozen intelligence operatives and headed for the northwest district of Evernight Harbor. On the way, he fervently prayed that Kant, the fool, wouldn’t do anything rash. Simultaneously, he tried repeatedly to contact Kant via the communicator, only to find it turned off, clearly anticipating such a move, and refusing any communication or reconsideration. "Damn it!" Seated in the passenger seat, Daniel pounded a fist against the car door, eyes simmering with furious, fearful intensity. At the same time, the black sedan carrying Centurion Willoughby arrived at the broadcasting station. Night had fallen by now, and most of the staff had gone home. The security guard approached the parked car routinely, asking. "Who are you people?" Kant deftly retrieved his badge, flashing it twice before the guard. "Garrison business. Open the gate." Hearing it was the garrison, the security guard, without suspicion, ran back to the booth to lift the barrier blocking the road. Kant floored the gas, driving straight to the square five-story building ahead rather than parking. After cutting the engine and pulling the handbrake, he grabbed the Pu-9 submachine gun from beneath the passenger seat, turning to Taran in the back. "Carry him and follow me." Excitement flashed in Taran's eyes at the climax, returning a reassuring nod. "Got it." Pity the operation was so hurried. With another two or three days, he could've rallied the thirty comrades in prison and recalled the two confidantes from outside the colony, making a bigger display. Kant nodded, cutting off any further chatter as he stepped out of the car, raising his gun to fire a burst into the air. The sudden gunfire sent bystanders fleeing in terror. The guard in the booth stood frozen, slack-jawed at the man with the submachine gun, clueless about his intentions. At this moment, Daniel and his team arrived on the scene. Seeing Centurion Willoughby dragged from the car, Daniel's eyes turned red, shouting at the gun-wielding Kant. "Kant! Are you insane?! What the hell are you thinking?!" As he barked orders, Daniel signaled a team to circle behind the building, preventing Kant from using it to escape the pursuing forces. What he didn’t know was that his loyal subordinate had no intention of fleeing. This place was his chosen battlefield, his final stand. Thus, as his superior's enraged roars reached him, Kant’s expression remained unchanged, as if not hearing a thing. Taran, burdened with Willoughby, looked baffled by the furious outcry. What was going on? He thought this was the Enlightenment Society's plan, yet Daniel’s reaction indicated otherwise. Most perplexingly, he couldn’t discern whether this infighting was within the Southern Legion or the Enlightenment Society. Caught like a player who's skipped multiple cutscenes, Taran was at a loss at the brink of combat, unsure who was friend or foe. "Come over here." Seeing Kant beckon, Taran decided to follow for now. He didn’t know what this NPC planned but had promised to be ready. As he stepped into the building, the car they'd arrived in suddenly erupted into flames with a boom, exploding into a fiery ball. The blaze illuminated Taran’s dumbfounded face, and he began to sense something deeper. His identity had likely long been compromised... Kant’s next words confirmed his suspicion. What he couldn’t grasp was why this Evernight native sided with him. "…They planted a bomb in the car. By plan, you’d have died at Kartnod Prison’s gate. "We’ll release your comrades, but won’t acknowledge your existence… including the entire Wasp plan." Taran swallowed hard. "…Wasp plan?" Nodding, Kant succinctly explained the whole plot, confessing everything. In short, the garrison was unaware of the Enlightenment Society’s existence. They’d only learned of a group formed by shelter residents in the wasteland through higher intelligence channels, suspecting them of possessing an unfinished superweapon. So, their esteemed garrison officer had an idea, fashioning a fake Enlightenment Society base in the "Marshal’s Armory" aiming to extract more intel on the Society and that superweapon from him. While things initially went smoothly, they’d stumbled upon a lead they shouldn’t have, prompting a prominent figure outside Evernight Harbor to quash all their clues. After hearing Kant's explanation, Taran couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly. "…So you got your intel on the Enlightenment Society from me in the end." Kant briefly replied. "Partly; also some from Avent City and Triumph City's archives." Taran paused, sighing. "Guess I toiled in vain." Kant raised an eyebrow. "…Are you really an Alliance spy?" "Spy? I’m a Legion Commander of the Desert Legion," Taran grinned, "Though you may call it bluffing, I won’t admit it." Kant's bemused smile clearly showed disbelief. If this guy were a Legion Commander, Kant felt he should be at least a Centurion! He opted not to dispute him, instead calmly watching more vehicles and guards gather outside, then spoke placidly. "Sorry to drag you into this; though I’ve thought of letting you go, I need allies." Taran grinned. "What's there to apologize for? Such a thrilling event might not happen once in a lifetime. Besides, you’ve considered me an ally." His eyes projected calm determination, indifferent to life or death. Kant glanced at him, surprised, then unexpectedly smiled. "I always heard people say that the inhabitants of the Alliance shelters are a bunch of weirdos... Now I believe it." "Not all of them, but you were unlucky to run into someone unreliable like me," Taran quipped, scratching the back of his head with a free hand as he adjusted the person slung on his back. "So what's the plan now? Rough this guy up for some satisfaction, or use him as a bargaining chip for a ride to the Alliance?" "Neither," Kant shook his head, continuing in a calm tone, "I told you my plan from the start... The Verantans have heard enough lies. What they need now is to hear some truths." At the same time, outside the broadcasting station, more and more garrison guards were completing their assembly. Daniel was as anxious as a cat on a hot tin roof, and the same could be said for the head of the intelligence division, as well as chiefs from other departments. There were only two people occupying the broadcasting station, yet the person they held hostage was Centurion Willoughby. No one wanted the burden of accidentally harming the hostage, but doing nothing wasn’t a solution either. It was then that the loudspeakers atop the main broadcasting building suddenly blared into life. The sudden, grating tuning noise made everyone's hair stand on end, especially Daniel, gripping his gun on the front line. Within moments, Kant's voice echoed from the broadcast. "Listen up out there, your officer, Centurion Willoughby, is in my hands now. If you don’t want anything unfortunate to happen to him, you’d best stay put." "My demand is simple: stand where you are, do nothing, and give me two hours." "Just two hours!" "I will use these precious two hours to conduct a special interview with our esteemed Centurion Willoughby." Catching a cold… Feeling dizzy and awful. To be continued...