Thug and Idol: 10X Rewards Second Identity System

Tristan's head jerked up in alarm.

'Reinforcements? Already? But we haven't been detected yet!'

No one was supposed to drive to this place in the middle of the night. But no matter who these people were, they could only be enemies.

'Shit. This will wake people in the shipyard camp up, even if the newcomers don't spot the dead bodies!'

Tristan was frantically thinking about escaping this sticky situation.

He could give the retreat signal now. By his estimate, at least six bombs were already planted, so the operation could be called a partial success.

Tristan could also let his subordinates keep going. It will be harder for them to escape alive then, but more bombs will be planted and more ships will sink.

If these people were some random goons, Tristan wouldn't have hesitated, but they were good ones. At least Cutout and Sam.

They were with him for a while, and Tristan was more invested in their wellbeing than he was willing to admit, at least aloud.

Kund and Decker were skilled, but Tristan was less attached.

There wasn't time to hesitate, though.

Another moment later, Tristan decided.

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'It will be a risk for me and them, but I'm going to win my guys some time.'

Tristan stood up. With one hand, he slung his rifle over his shoulder, with another, he pulled out his phone and tapped several buttons with blinding speed.

A second later, phones of his subordinates vibrated in their pockets two times and stopped. This was the signal saying, "Hurry, the danger is close but not immediately here".

Then Tristan broke into a run.

His sculpted legs easily vaulted over pits in the ground and protruding tree roots, and his heat vision let him see the surroundings even in almost total darkness.

In his mind, Tristan kept the satellite photo map of the harbor. The road to it led between the nearby hills, which hid it from the view from the shore. Tristan was in the perfect position to intercept the car as it drove by.

He moved with effortless grace and without worrying about the noise, sometimes outright sliding down the steep slopes in order to get down faster.

Tristan saw the car through the trees just as it was approaching the shipyard camp and the guard booth at its entrance.

There was a fifth pair of soldiers standing guard, but Tristan didn't bother with it earlier, since his people came from the other side anyway. The camp didn't have a fence—the guards in the booth watched out for cars.

They noticed the one that was approached and pointed a spotlight and a pair of rifles on it. The car slowed down, and a man poked his head out of the window. Three more were inside.

Since there was light, Tristan could look at them with normal vision. The people inside were all Mexicans, and looked like typical Angulos thugs, except more scuffed. One of them was sleeping.

Maybe they were returning from a night of partying, or a mission that took too long.

Tristan raised his rifle and aimed at one of the guards in the booth.

A press of the trigger—and the man's head got a new hole. The torchlight fell from this hand, submerging the car in darkness.

He fell to the ground, and his partner cried out in shock. From his distance, he could only hear a soft clap instead of the shot, and Tristan blended with the darkness too well to be noticed by sight.

For all the guard knew, the only people with visible weapons were thugs in the car in front of him.

<He was shot! Assholes, who—? You?!>

The guard turned his rifle at the new arrivals, reaching for his radio with the other one.

<What?! I didn't—!>

The confusion gave Tristan time to aim at the second guard and shoot before he said anything.

The man who was poking his head out of the car pulled it back, paling.

<C-Carlos! They just died!>

<I know. I've seen it! There's a sniper. Maybe there are two snipers! Why is it so quiet in the shipyard if there are snipers?..>

The sleeping man woke up and was blinking drowsily.

<What the fuck is going on?..>

Tristan aimed at the driver and shot. Thankfully, the car's glass wasn't bulletproof.

The side window shattered loudly, and the man's body slumped toward his companion.

<Fuck, fuck, fuck! Hide behind the car! We gotta call the others!>

The man scrambled to get out of the car, but Tristan was faster.

In the brief moment while the door was still open and gave him a clear line of sight, Tristan pressed the trigger.

The shot was awkward, but effective. The bullet went through the already shattered window and over the slumped corpse to get the escaping thug right in the middle of the spine.

He fell down, still twitching, but silently. If the man survived the shot (unlikely) he would be crippled for life.

The last two thugs were scrambling to get behind the car, too, but only pushed each other away from the door. Tristan smirked.

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'It looks like no one alive was close enough to hear the shouts—at least, I hear no gunshots from the shipyard camp. Perhaps I can actually salvage this.'

He just had two bullets left in the magazine.

Tristan squinted, measuring his shot and timing it. Aiming at targets moving so erratically was hard.

A trigger squeeze, and the bullet went right where Tristan had sent it—to the head of the thug farthest from Tristan and closest to cover. On its way there, the bullet broke another window and flew two centimeters above the other man's shoulder.

<Shit!> he shouted, jolting back from the corpse. <No, no… Fuck no, you aren't getting us all!>

Tristan was aiming a shot at the man's head when he charged out of the nearest door so suddenly that the bullet had only grazed his scalp.

Like that, the man was facing Tristan and even looking somewhere in his direction—and Tristan's rifle was empty.