He thought carelessly, the face of his Target appearing in the scope. Aware of the timing, he still had a few spare minutes to rest for a moment.
In the next second, his slightly upturned eyes widened in slight surprise.
Seeing that it wasn't yet the 'execution' time he had set, Cavendish curled his lips into a slight smirk, looking somewhat amused, pulled out his mobile phone with a similar expression.
The moment the call connected, Gin's cold and stern voice came from the other end.
“Gin?” Cavendish called out the codename on the other end of the line. Without waiting for a response, he continued, “It's Cavendish.”
The person on the other end seemed to daze for several seconds before a perfunctory "Hmm?" escaped from their throat as a question.
I saw Rye—" A hint of teasing, like a half-smile, flickered in those fox-like eyes. Cavendish carried his sniper rifle in one hand, after taking a few steps, he leaned casually against the wall. "Do you have an arrangement?
".." An ambiguous silence came from the other side, but Cavendish did not care and waited with great patience.
He is an excellent sniper, patience is a mandatory course for an outstanding sniper.
..
The white Mazda rushed forward like a bolt of lightning. The moment the blonde-haired man in the driver's seat finally slammed on the brakes, the sleek body of the car let out a heavy groan, reluctantly ending its performance of weaving through traffic.
Bourbon, in the driver's seat, didn't even bother to fasten his seatbelt. Relying on his driving skills, he wove through the traffic, cutting the travel time nearly in half.
He finally arrived at the destination, but he showed no sign of relaxation. After coming to a halt with one hand, he opened the car door immediately; without even locking it, he rushed toward the building ahead of him.
The sky had turned completely dark. In the heavy darkness, the old building appeared unnaturally eerie, like a ferocious steel monster with a twisted face, its mouth wide open as if to swallow the lives of anyone who approached.
The anxious blonde-haired youth didn't care at all; he rushed up the stairs in a hurry, his heart and mind focused entirely on one person's life or death.
Faster—faster—!
Amuro Tooru's face gradually turned pale, fine, glistening beads of moisture seeped from his forehead—but this was not sweat from running, but cold sweat born of panic.
Thump—thump—thump—
Tap—tap—tap—
This short path felt endless at this moment, as if it could never be traversed. Panic spread through his heart, gnawing at it like a venomous snake. Amuro Tooru's lips trembled slightly, for a moment, every second felt like a year.
Finally, he saw the end.
And following that, a sweet female voice echoed behind him.
"Stop," that female voice said.
The first half of that sentence was almost useless to Amuro Tooru, who was on the verge of an explosion. He ignored it, his pace not faltering even slightly.
So that female voice spoke again, "Bourbon."
This time, she emphasized the pronunciation.
These two words were like two invisible chains, binding the Blonde-haired youth's feet tightly, as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over a pack of explosives about to detonate. He could faintly hear the sound of his rationality sizzling, acting like a rein that forcibly restrained him.
Amuro Tooru's gaze suddenly turned cold and heavy.
The Japanese Public Security had no choice but to stop in his tracks, filled with resentment.
Bourbon turned around.
..
Bourbon turned around.
A rustling sound came from the shadows around the corner of the stairs, after a few seconds, Sheila walked out without his expression changing.
His beauty remained stunning even in the dim corner, like a night-blooming cereus quietly unfolding. His lightweight, tight-fitting clothing allowed for easy movement while simultaneously outlining his smooth and beautiful figure. Holding a handgun in one hand, Sheila gazed at Amuro Tooru with his blue eyes, his thin lips pressed together without a trace of a smile.
She raised her handgun, aiming it at Amuro Tooru, approached the blonde-haired youth step by step, her movements as graceful as flowing water and snow, calm and composed. Only her cold expression and the tension in her body curves revealed the fact that she was not at ease.
"Don't come any closer." There was no one else around, the surroundings felt exceptionally quiet under the dark night sky, as Sheila's clear voice echoed through the silence.
Amuro Tooru's gaze turned cold, his usual gentle smile completely vanishing, revealing his hidden edge and uncontrollable rage.
"Who sent you?" Even so, as an elite, he maintained a shred of rationality, his words sharp and piercing.
This kind of question was not easy to answer, frankly, Sheila had no intention of answering it at all—his only Mission was to stop Bourbon.
Even Sheila didn't know why that man had made two completely contradictory arrangements.
The beautiful woman slightly lowered her eyes, her eyelashes trembling slightly, yet her movements revealed not a single flaw: "That is not important."
What matters is—" He looked up at Amuro Tooru, his gaze filled with determination, a trace of almost indistinguishable.. pity. "You cannot go any further.
Within those violet pupils, which had always been so warm, an uncontrollable rage finally surged.
The blonde-haired youth's upper body trembled slightly. He clenched his fists tightly, as if he were squeezing the little remaining sanity that had not been consumed by his rage.
In the next second, he looked up.
The moment he met the youth's eyes, Sheila was startled by the swirling emotions within them, before she could recover, she saw the youth opposite her suddenly strike with a punch.
..
“Gin?”
The moment the call from Cavendish came in, Gin actually had a premonition.
But what this meant was self-evident, so despite having a sliver of hope, the Silver-haired youth was still very reluctant to receive this phone call.
—As it turned out, relying on luck was a mistake.
Luck.. is also quite unreliable.
Especially for a Villain like him, who comes with a built-in debuff, isn't relying on Luck just a joke?
This is a rhythm that leads to certain death!
After spacing out for a moment, appearing as though he had frozen for several seconds, Gin nodded nonchalantly. Realizing the other party could not see him, he let out a perfunctory "Hmm?" from his throat to express his doubt.
I saw Rye—" The voice on the other end carried a hint of playful mockery, Gin could almost imagine Cavendish leaning against a wall while holding his sniper rifle with one hand: "Do you have any arrangements?
He didn't know if his guess was correct.
The silver-haired youth slowly checked his watch, his handsome and cold face showing a hint of fatigue. He leaned against the back of the sofa, a touch of gloom appearing in his dark green eyes.
From the moment Cavendish arrived, whatever had been done before no longer mattered.
He heard a silent sigh rising from within his own heart.
It seems.. it was a failure.
Even though this failure caused him no real loss.. he still felt a bit dissatisfied.
He lowered his eyes, his voice heavy, giving the long-waiting Cavendish a reply: "This.. you don't need to worry about it."
This ambiguous answer naturally failed to satisfy the sharp Cavendish. He curled his lips into a slight, unreadable arc of dissatisfaction, but at this moment, he had no intention of forcing an answer.
Easily letting the topic go, Cavendish tilted his head and adjusted his posture to make himself more comfortable, asking seemingly casually, "So.. is Rye taking over my mission?"
"No." And it couldn't be.
"Then.." Cavendish speculated idly as he pushed himself up. He walked with steady steps toward his original sniping position, raising the sniper rifle at a crooked angle, maintaining the strange posture of holding a phone in one hand while holding the gun in the other.
In a rather awkward posture, he watched the two people conversing through the scope. From his perspective, nothing seemed unusual—except for the fact that Rye appearing here was the greatest anomaly of all.
What a pity. If I had known, I would have studied lip-reading properly.
"Then.. I'll make my move when the time comes~" The man's lips curled into an ambiguous arc, his eyes as cold as if they held ice, yet his voice was as light as a leaping oriole.
Gin remained silent for a long while. At this moment, he recalled his few interactions with Scotland, for an instant, the other man's determined expression appeared before him again.
He only felt a faint emotion throbbing in his chest, something he couldn't quite define for a moment, yet it refused to dissipate.
At this moment, he seemed to be thinking something, yet also seemed to be thinking nothing at all.
After a long silence, he spoke as if he were impatient, "Whatever you want."
His voice was faintly hoarse.
The conversation, transmitted through radio waves over a distance of several miles, filtered out some of the emotion and caused some sounds to appear distorted, so Cavendish did not notice these minor details.
He simply raised his eyebrows high and put down his mobile phone.
..
Sheila's skills are quite impressive; if she were to get serious, she could easily make ninety percent of the men in the Organization kneel, even among the remaining ten percent, not many could certainly claim they could defeat him.
The fact that she could obtain a codename at such a young age was certainly due to her formidable abilities—Heine certainly didn't hold back; he only wished his sister could leave this muddy water as quickly as possible, the further away, the better.
Even her own Brother had to admit that if the two of them fought, the outcome of a pure hand-to-hand combat would be a fifty-fifty split.
However, facing the furious Bourbon at this moment, Sheila was forced into a passive defense.
It wasn't because she was no match for Bourbon. It was simply that one side was on the verge of going berserk and only wanted to save people, while the other was weighed down by countless concerns and had to fight—their states were completely different!
Even if she had a handgun in her hand right now, could she really bring it to bear and fire?!
Perhaps because he had seen through this, Bourbon's attacks became increasingly ruthless. Sheila felt a sudden spasm in his stomach and struggled for a long moment to suppress the physiological urge to vomit.
Even so, after recovering from the unexpected attack, Sheila still struggled to maintain his composure, his speed in dismantling the opponent's movements incredibly fast.
Even though she was currently at a disadvantage, she was confident that Bourbon would not be able to escape in a short amount of time.
Amuro Tooru's gaze grew increasingly cold. Although he was essentially a gentleman, if he still wanted to maintain his elegance when facing a female Cadre of the Black Organization—he would undoubtedly be digging his own grave.
He threw a hook toward his beautiful, flawless face, showing no intention of being a gentleman to a lady; his reaction was incredibly fast, ducking low to avoid the strike before sweeping his leg to attack his lower body.
For a moment, the two were locked in a stalemate.
As time passed, Amuro Tooru grew increasingly impatient—after all, he was the one in a hurry, not Sheila!
This was an entirely unfair match; winning or losing meant nothing to Sheila, but for Amuro Tooru, it was of vital importance. The latter's movements grew increasingly sharp and fierce, forcing the former to retreat several steps to create some distance.
Sheila frowned sharply, in the next second, he twisted his body and swung his leg into a side kick, attempting to cover his opening.
Amuro Tooru remained unmoved; he raised his arm to forcefully block the sharp attack, in the next second, he was almost about to lunge forward.
..
Bang—
A gunshot rang out.
-----------------------
Author's Note: It's complete!
I've added almost a thousand words!