!
The various abnormalities put the three Spartans on high alert immediately.
John immediately raised his left hand, signaling Karl to check if the door could be opened normally, and then motioned for Myron to stand aside as cover.
Following the instructions, the two began to move.
"Click—"
Karl gripped the doorknob, but it wouldn't turn; after letting go, he looked at the two beside him and shook his head.
Seeing this, John slowly stepped to Karl's side and looked at Myron.
Myron understood the meaning instantly and nodded, walking directly in front of the door, and then...
"Bang—!"
Myron delivered a Spartan kick, and the iron door instantly deformed, buckled, and was kicked open, sending up a large cloud of dust along with the door frame.
Step-step!
Immediately after, Karl and John rushed into the room, with Myron following closely behind.
.
The internal layout of the house was somewhat modern.
On the right side was a long table against the wall, covered with various weapons and equipment, as well as several rugged military computers.
On the left was a rusty iron bunk bed, with several stains on the sheets and bedding.
Opposite the door was a window covered with blackout cloth, positioned perfectly to observe Gerard Mahmoud's manor.
And the black Agent, holding a dagger, stood with his back to the tense-faced Spartans.
This Agent was trembling all over, his head twitching incessantly as he repeated to himself:
"I am an Umbrella Agent, I cannot fail my duty, I don't want to kill, I am an Umbrella Age..."
?
Seeing this, the three, who coordinated perfectly, reacted instantly.
Karl walked slowly toward the long table, taking control of the weapons and equipment first.
Meanwhile, John and Myron approached from the left and right, stopping only two meters away from the Agent.
John asked in a low voice: "Agent, please report your status."
"Status... report..."
When the black Agent turned around, John and Myron became even more solemn.
The Agent's eyes were rolled back, his forehead was covered in cold sweat, and the veins on his temples were bulging.
His expression shifted between ferocious and confused, as if he were engaged in a violent internal struggle.
But.
"Only through slaughter can you gain freedom."
With those words, the Agent's eyeballs rolled eerily, finally focusing his gaze on Myron.
This move by the Agent caused Myron's adrenaline to spike; at the slightest sign of abnormality, he wouldn't mind striking first.
"Swish!" The dagger was raised high, cutting through the air.
"Pfft!" The sound of a human spitting blood.
The Agent indeed launched an attack at Myron, but the latter dodged with a side-step and struck him in the jaw with a right hook.
"Thud!"
Due to the powerful momentum, the Agent's head snapped back as he was lifted off the ground, spraying a large amount of blood from his nose and mouth before falling unconscious to the floor.
Seeing this, John quickly walked over to the Agent's side.
Kneeling on one knee, he placed the index finger of his left hand under the Agent's nostrils and then checked the Agent's neck.
He then looked at Myron, who was still on guard, and spoke in a rebuking tone:
"Number Three, your force almost killed him. Be careful in the future."
"Yes." Myron, having entered a serious state, was brief in his response.
John picked up the Agent and placed him on the bed, ordering: "Number Three, go downstairs and scout the surroundings.
Number Four, contact the other teams first to confirm if they've encountered situations similar to ours, then report this matter to the Base Command Center."
"Yes." (x2)
The two Spartans went their separate ways.
Before leaving the room, Myron bent the iron door back into shape and pulled it shut as he went downstairs.
Karl used the computer to switch to the encrypted communication between Spartans to make contact.
Meanwhile, John picked up a rope from the table and tied up and gagged the Agent of unknown status to prevent him from continuing his frenzy upon waking.
Half a minute later;
"Number Seven, the other teams have encountered similar situations," Karl said.
"Mm." Squatting behind the window and observing the manor, John asked, "What does the Base say?"
"The Base says it's up to us to decide whether to withdraw from the combat zone."
John tilted his head to look at Karl and asked again, "What have the other Spartans decided?"
"They're following your lead," Karl said.
Hearing this, John adjusted his posture and continued observing the manor, saying calmly, "Tell the Base the decapitation strike will proceed as planned."
"Yes."
Afterward, the safe house fell into silence.
Karl organized the equipment, John observed the layout of the nearby streets, and Myron remained alert outside.
The city remained the same.
The loudspeaker towers continuously repeated Swahili that the Spartans could not understand.
Waiting only for nightfall, Dadaab would be completely liberated by Umbrella.
———————
.
Time: 23:50
The dead of night was pitch black.
After all, this place was extremely underdeveloped; only a few wealthy households and the manor in the city center emitted any light.
On the street.
"Crackle~ crackle~" Fire burned inside a tin barrel, making a crackling noise.
The firelight illuminated the street corner, providing visibility for the two militiamen on guard there.
At this time, a fat militiaman scratched his chin and said lazily to the thin man beside him:
"Ninaenda choo (I'm going to the toilet)." After the fat militiaman finished speaking, he left with his rifle in his arms.
The thin militiaman looked at his partner's back and reminded him: "Baada ya shiti, rudi haraka (After you shit, come back quickly)!"
"Nini (Yeah)," the fat man waved his hand.
The thin man shrugged helplessly.
But just as he turned his head back, he saw an extremely beautiful White woman in front of him.
A crisp "Crack!" sound.
The last thing this militiaman saw in his life was frozen on that beautiful face.
John, Myron, and Karl appeared at the street corner at some unknown time.
The equipment of the three Spartans was the standard issue for Umbrella Agents, and their firearms were equipped with subsonic rounds and suppressors.
John was the perpetrator of the cracking sound just now; he had easily snapped the militiaman's neck with both hands.
"Eh?" The fat militiaman also noticed something wrong behind him.
"Crack!" Before the fat man could even turn his head, Myron performed the same action as John.
"Thud." (x2)
Tossing the two corpses into the alley, they kept close to the wall and continued advancing east.
Having just executed an assassination, they didn't even blink, feeling no discomfort whatsoever.
After witnessing the inhumanity of the outskirts, they were already familiar with death.
Even...
When slaughtering those inhuman militiamen, they felt a slight sense of pleasure in their hearts, believing they were doing the right thing.
As mentioned before.
Before Spartans could become perfect killing machines, they had to undergo a baptism of blood.
The three arrived silently at an alley entrance, with the manor's perimeter wall right before their eyes.
Immediately, John spoke softly into the comms: "This is Team Seven, ready."
"Team One ready."
"Team Nine ready..."
The voices of the other four team Captains came through the comms one after another.
Then John said: "Command Center, we need real-time dynamic support."
"Command Center copies. Drones have arrived over the target manor; the feed will be transmitted to your Holographic Glasses.
Good luck on your Graduation Exam, Spartans."
"Understood."
-------------------------------
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