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A month's time passed like sand slipping through fingers—silent, yet real enough to cause unease.
This month was the closest thing to a normal person's life that Noah and Claire had ever experienced—a period of luxury in their memories.
The villa was no longer just filled with firearms and cold plans; it was filled with Sherry's crisp laughter, the aroma of food wafting from the kitchen, and the warmth of the three of them huddled together under the lamp at night to help with homework.
They would argue endlessly over a math problem's solution. Leon would occasionally join in, only to find himself scratching his head over one of Sherry's middle school physics questions.
On weekend afternoons, they would walk along the banks of the Hudson River, watching the sunset scatter golden fragments of light across the shimmering water.
But beneath the warm daily routine, a cold storm was approaching.
The day of parting finally arrived.
The private boarding school arranged by Mr. Trant was located in a suburb far from the hustle and bustle, surrounded by rolling hills and dense forests.
The black carved iron gates slowly opened, revealing a castle-like complex of buildings, classical and solemn.
In this air, not a single trace of danger could be smelled—only the scent of grass from the neatly manicured lawns and the melodious chiming of a distant church bell.
Sherry wore a brand new, well-fitting deep blue school uniform. Her short golden hair was neatly combed, and her azure eyes were as bright as a washed sky.
She didn't cry or make a scene.
She simply stood on her tiptoes and gave Claire a firm hug, then gave Noah one just as strong.
"I will make you proud."
The little girl's voice was crisp and firm, without a hint of hesitation.
Then she turned around, carrying a backpack wider than her own body. With her small back straightened and full of energy, she walked toward the grand teaching building.
Her steps were steady, and she didn't look back.
Claire kept smiling, watching that small figure get further and further away.
It wasn't until Sherry reached the corner of the teaching building that she seemed to sense something. She stopped, turned around, and waved vigorously at them.
Then, that small figure completely disappeared from the trio's sight.
A hot tear finally escaped the corner of Claire's eye, sliding down her smooth cheek and dripping silently.
Yet she was still smiling—a smile filled with relief, reluctance, and endless tenderness.
"Sherry has grown up."
Her voice carried a hint of imperceptible hoarseness.
Noah reached out and gently flicked Claire's smooth forehead with his knuckle.
The movement was light and full of doting.
"Don't sound so world-weary."
"Strictly speaking, we haven't even graduated from college yet."
Claire was amused and burst into laughter. Though the tear tracks on her face hadn't dried, her smile was as bright as ever.
"Hey! That's true."
"I almost thought I'd become an old mom just now."
Leon, who had been standing silently by the side, let out a long sigh.
"Is it really okay for you guys to say that?"
His face was written with helplessness.
"That makes me look even older, okay? I'm not even married yet."
Looking at the couple before him, who seemed to carry their own halo, he couldn't help but ask.
"By the way, when are you two going to tie the knot?"
Noah and Claire looked at each other and smiled.
They turned to look at Leon at the same time and said in unison.
"When we rescue Chris."
The voice wasn't loud, but it sounded like an oath carved in stone.
Mr. Trant's influence far exceeded Leon's imagination.
During this month, he wasn't just an ordinary police officer; he had undergone a hellish special training.
His status had changed from a common government employee to an agent directly under Trant's command, with a legal identity and higher clearance.
Of course, what excited Leon the most was the generous salary that would be punctually deposited into his bank account every month—an amount that would make him laugh out loud. (Leon: My salary is really high!)
This filled him with unprecedented anticipation for the future.
He had even begun to secretly plan. Once this mission was over, he would buy a Wrangler in Manhattan and look for a house with a small garden in a neighborhood Ada might like—preferably as neighbors to Noah and Claire.
Saving money, buying a car, buying a house.
This tacky yet real dream burned like a fire in his heart, filling him with drive.
December 26th, late at night.
The villa's living room was brightly lit.
But a suffocating silence permeated the air.
Noah, Claire, and Leon had already changed into the black undergarment combat suits delivered in advance, ready to go.
Their weapons and equipment were spread out on the living room floor.
Firearms were disassembled and reassembled, every part polished until it reflected a cold metallic luster under the lights.
Noah was using a long, thin cleaning rod to give the barrel of his desert eagle one last cleaning, his movements focused and steady.
Claire carefully loaded grenades into the pouches on her tactical vest, her reddish-brown ponytail swinging in a sharp arc behind her head.
Leon was repeatedly adjusting the sights on his large-caliber magnum.
No one spoke.
Only the crisp "click" of metal parts clashing echoed in the room.
A black, sleek sedan stopped silently outside the villa like a ghost.
The headlights were not on.
Ada stepped out of the driver's seat, also wearing a black tight-fitting tactical suit that perfectly outlined her flawless figure.
On that charming face, there were no superfluous expressions, only the calmness and professionalism of a top agent.
She didn't ring the doorbell, simply leaning against the car door and waiting quietly.
The three filed out, put their gear in the trunk, and got into the car.
The interior space was small. Four people, four different auras, mixed with the scent of leather and a faint smell of gunpowder, made the air even more heavy.
The car started and merged smoothly into the traffic. The city's neon lights retreated rapidly outside the window in a bizarre blur.
Nearly an hour later, the car left the main city road and turned into an increasingly remote country lane.
Finally, it stopped on a vast, empty stretch of wasteland shrouded in darkness.
A deathly silence surrounded them, broken only by the "whooshing" of the winter night wind blowing through the withered grass.
Ada turned off the engine.
The four sat in the car, waiting quietly.
No one knew how much time had passed.
A dull, heartbeat-like "thrumming" sound came from the distant horizon.
The sound grew closer, louder, and heavier.
Soon, the sound turned into a deafening, massive roar.
A fierce wind rose, blowing the dry grass leaves into the air.
A massive, pitch-black object without any markings broke through the night sky and appeared above them.
It was a heavy transport helicopter, clearly of military grade.
It hovered steadily in the air before slowly descending into the center of the wasteland.
The hatch opened, and a beam of blue-white light projected from the cabin, illuminating a path of light into the unknown amidst the darkness.
The four didn't hesitate for a second. Grabbing their gear, they braved the immense wind pressure and quickly boarded the helicopter.
The interior of the cabin was much more spacious than they had imagined.
But it was also colder and more Spartan.
The metal walls were covered with various complex wires and gauges.
Two rows of simple metal seats lined the sides of the cabin.
In the center of the cabin, five large olive-drab metal crates were neatly arranged.
Ada stepped forward and opened one of the crates.
"Click."
The lid popped open.
Inside were various weapons, arranged like works of art.
Tactical suits, combat boots, tactical belts, multi-functional backpacks.
Tactical knives, magnums, desert eagles, Quadruple Grenade Launchers, mp5 submachine guns, tmp submachine guns, shotguns, and beretta pistols.
There was even a powerful "broken butterfly" that Leon had only heard of in legends, and a Grapple Gun exclusive to Ada.
The ammunition supply was outrageously abundant.
Bullets of various calibers, grenades, and explosives filled three entire crates—truly a massive supply.
One of the smaller crates contained two small surgical kits for field first aid, various highly effective emergency medicines, high-energy emergency food, and water.
And that laptop.
The last small box was specially prepared for Noah.
There was only one thing inside.
A pair of menacing, pitch-black, specially made metal brass knuckles that perfectly fit his hands.
On every joint of the knuckle dusters, a sharp, palpitating cold glint shimmered.
The cockpit and the cabin were separated by thick bulletproof glass.
The silhouettes of the two pilots were shrouded in the dim light of the cockpit, their features indistinguishable.
But judging by their fluid, tacitly coordinated, and skilled operations...
These two were certainly no ordinary individuals.
The helicopter took off, flying into the endless darkness amidst a massive roar.
In the cabin, the four leaned against the cold metal seats, taking advantage of these final moments to close their eyes and rest.
No one knew what they would face on this journey.
No one knew how much time had passed.
Suddenly, the pilot's voice, somewhat distorted by electronic processing, came through the cabin intercom.
"Rockfort Island. We're almost there."
The eyes of the four snapped open almost simultaneously.
They moved in unison to the cabin windows.
Outside was an all-consuming, boundless darkness.
At the end of that darkness, a massive, menacing dark island, shaped like the spine of a prehistoric beast, was slowly emerging from the sea level.
There wasn't a single light on the island.
Instead, patches of dark red firelight were burning silently.
The flames looked like the evil eyes of a demon or the boiling blood of the earth.
They made the already terrifying island look like a living Hell.
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Leon: shotgun, broken butterfly, beretta, tactical knife (strapped to tactical boot), black tactical suit. Chief Marvin's tactical knife was strapped to his left shoulder.
Ada: Grapple Gun, tactical knife, tmp submachine gun, Blacktail AC, beretta, magnum (gifted by Leon), black tactical suit.
Claire: mp5 submachine gun, Quadruple Grenade Launcher, tactical knife, magnum, beretta, black tactical suit.
Noah: metal brass knuckles, tactical knife, desert eagle, beretta, black tactical suit.
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