Chapter 137: Breakout

Chapter 137: Chapter 137: Breakout

Renee Morgan shook her head, her voice as calm and composed as ever: "We can’t escape, half of Team Red is still at the foot of the mountain."

Jay Monroe and his four from Group 2 attracted half of Team Red’s firepower; those guys were still at the foot. Even if they managed to break out from halfway up, they’d run straight into the blockade below.

"So what do we do now?" Isaac Bell’s eyes darted about, panic-stricken and lost.

Desmond Ulrich picked up his submachine gun in silence and spoke to Renee Morgan, "Whatever happens, we’re getting you out of here."

Renee Morgan opened her mouth, "Just because I’m a girl, you guys don’t have to protect me like this..."

The steady, seasoned Captain Ulrich of Group 5 shot her a sidelong glance through his sweat-soaked bangs, his deep black eyes showing confusion: "Who said we’re doing this because you’re a girl?"

Renee Morgan: "?"

Desmond Ulrich curled his lips into a smile, though there wasn’t a hint of humor in his eyes. He looked at her seriously: "It’s because, keeping you safe gives Team Blue a bigger shot at winning."

They’re all adults; who would risk their necks just because a pretty girl is on the team? They’re fighting like hell for that team bonus.

"..."

Desmond Ulrich gave orders to Group 5, protecting Renee Morgan as they retreated from one side at the mountain’s base.

Knowing Jay Monroe and the others weren’t far off nearby, Desmond Ulrich and the team leader synced their comms, telling him to pull Jay Monroe in and plan a breakout escape.

Jay Monroe hadn’t expected there’d be someone this capable in the squad. He had Bama and Vance stall Team Red chasing him, while he took Boland and Hart to attack the right flank at the base, as Desmond Ulrich directed.

Isaac Bell was being chased all over the mountain by Team Red, not engaging head-on with anyone. Team Red was hot on his heels, just about to catch him, but he’d dart away in a flash. When they gave up pursuit, he’d jump out and open fire, and when they took it personally, he’d sprint off again, all over the place, shouting weird noises to draw attention.

Team Red: "..."

If these weren’t blank rounds, they’d love to turn that kid into a sieve.

Desmond Ulrich led a handful with strong firepower, escorting Renee Morgan out of the siege toward the right flank at the base—only to find Louis already waiting, flanked by more than a dozen Team Red members, rifles leveled squarely at Desmond Ulrich and Renee Morgan’s group.

Most of Group 5 had already fallen at the mountain’s waist, leaving only the two Desmond Ulrich had brought out. Now, the two teams met head-on, Team Red holding absolute advantage in numbers.

When Jay Monroe arrived with Boland and Hart, Louis was there, rifle in hand, over a dozen behind him in identical posture, guns up, all aimed in the same direction.

Facing them were just four people, with the girl standing out. She was at the front; a long sniper rifle slung on her back, her slender hands hanging at her thighs, and even with dozens of gun muzzles pointed at her head, her face was utterly calm, her eyes as clear and bright as autumn water.

Panic?

Doesn’t exist.

After all...

Blank rounds don’t kill.

Thinking this, Renee Morgan revealed a faint, relaxed smile.

Louis and the Team Red members exchanged glances—smiling at a time like this?

Louis knew Team Blue’s tricks were plenty, and this woman had a face that messes with your mind. You can’t afford to underestimate her. Without hesitating, he squeezed the trigger.

Renee Morgan, eyes steady as ever, noticed his subtle movement ahead of time. Barely thinking, she rolled up and kicked his rifle in midair.

"Bang"

Louis’s trigger pull sent the shot off into the ground as his gun slipped away, hanging loose at his stomach.

The Team Red group behind Louis opened fire nearly all at once. Renee Morgan pressed down on Louis’s shoulders, too late for a "sorry," flipped through the air and blocked the shots with her back, dodging her helmet’s three kill zones, and grabbed the gun sling at Louis’s neck, choking the struggling Louis instead.

Louis was rugged, though not as big as Dane, whose neck and body were all muscle, but he’d managed to take down a few guys solo, barehanded.

Now, Renee Morgan had already seized the initiative—pressing his shoulders, wrapping the sling around his neck from behind. Breathing was cut off; his face instantly flushed red and purple, and it felt like all his strength drained out in a second.

Louis clutched at the sling around his neck, eyes wide, glassy with water—not because he wanted to cry, but because his body couldn’t help it.

Those misty eyes glared up at the woman above him, stubborn and unyielding—he absolutely wouldn’t surrender.

Renee Morgan saw right through him, lips curling with a smile; right in front of him, she drew a military knife from her waist, nonchalantly poking at the top of his helmet.

"Psshh"—a soft hiss, blue smoke rising.

The curve of Renee Morgan’s smile bloomed into something breathtaking as she looked right at wide-eyed, stunned Louis.

The choking was gone, the throat cut feeling replaced by pain; all Louis’s senses went dull. His mind kept replaying the girl’s dazzling smile, like that first time at the movies, stunned by the star on the big screen—the kind of beauty that shakes you, a moment that makes you wonder how someone could outshine everyone like this.

When reason returned, he closed his eyes, frustrated. Losing to such a strong opponent isn’t shameful, but how come, in this moment, he had the spare thought to recall the movie heroine’s face?

He actually thought Renee Morgan was even more beautiful than that actress.

"Team Blue Sniper Renee Morgan scores one point, total score 101."

As Renee Morgan charged Louis, Desmond Ulrich and his two teammates dropped their guns and lunged at Team Red behind him.

Since they’re going out anyway, may as well brawl—grab some pride back.

Team Red members, rifles at the ready, about to pull the trigger, were tackled; teammates behind quickly circled in, military knives prepped to jab their opponents’ helmets.

Desmond Ulrich was fierce in assault—and in fighting, too. Not bulky, but tall and wiry, fighting like he didn’t care about his life; anyone coming at his helmet with a knife, he’d stab theirs back, scaring Team Red’s knives right back. After a few rounds, everyone realized—this guy’s a lunatic.

So they grabbed their guns, boxed Desmond Ulrich in, and aimed for the three kill zones on his helmet.

Renee Morgan had tagged Louis’s helmet; a few Team Red members surged forward to surround her, but halfway there, they got picked off from ambush—Jay Monroe and his team had already lined up shots.

The comms crackled with Jay Monroe, Hart, and Boland’s scoring reports.