Chapter 27-28

Chapter 27: The Pioneers

After inspecting the situation in Dublin, it was time to move on to the next destination.

Leaving the Liam Building and settling into the sedan, Bruce quickly noticed that Trista seemed hesitant to speak.

This competent secretary, as efficient as a computer and as beautiful as a decorative vase, was undoubtedly a model of value for money. Aside from the fact that she was a lesbian, which hardly counted as a flaw, she could easily score a 90 in every other aspect.

She managed almost everything for Bruce with precision and insight, significantly easing his burden.

After a moment of contemplation, Bruce initiated a conversation with a smile, addressing the beautiful woman beside him, "Trista, it seems you have some thoughts you'd like to share. It's okay, feel free to speak your mind in private."

Hearing this, Trista paused her rapid note-taking and carefully started, "It seems that our company's research projects haven't reached maturity yet and are far from hitting the market. Is it necessary to expand this quickly at the current stage?"

What she meant to express was her concern about her boss's emphasis on quality. While understanding this in his personal life, his nearly stringent standards in office environment, facilities, and materials seemed utterly disregardful of costs, causing her onlooker anxiety. Of course, this undoubtedly boosted employee comfort and pride, as even the sight of the design plans promised a working environment of enjoyment. Yet, it felt excessively lavish.

As Bruce's full-time secretary with a high level of security clearance, she was somewhat privy to the research data. The more she learned, the more alarmed she became, almost disbelieving the data wasn't fabricated.

The projects were beyond imagination. But once accepted, she fully integrated into Solar Corona, considering issues from an owner's perspective.

"Trista, let's hypothesize for a moment. If you were about to manufacture a car, what factors would determine its final design?" Bruce didn't rush to respond but posed a question instead.

After a thoughtful pause, Trista carefully articulated, "It would be my needs, what I intend to use the car for—personal use or sales. If it's for personal use, what features and performance are needed, and if it's for sales, what kind of customers it targets. That's essentially the product's market positioning."

Bruce habitually reached for his cigar but paused, remembering he was in the company of a lady. However, when he looked at Trista for approval, she skillfully took a special cigar and match, lighting it for him.

"I smoke sometimes," Trista carefully extinguished the match, noticing Bruce's evaluative gaze and added, "when I need to relieve stress."

"Thank you," Bruce shifted to a more comfortable position, enjoying a puff of his cigar. To avoid any odor in the car, he activated the air purification system, a standard feature in luxury cars. "So, what do you think Solar Corona's positioning is? After all, you've been getting familiar with our operations."

"A global leader in biotechnology," Trista answered without hesitation, having reviewed ample materials to have a solid understanding.

"No, it's the harbinger of a new era for humanity! A synonym for future technology!" Bruce gestured dismissively, correcting her with an irrefutable tone.

Trista's eyes widened at his choice of words—future technology, not just high-tech, latest technology, or cutting-edge scientific technology, highlighting a fundamental difference. Though she couldn't precisely define future technology, she understood it meant technology far beyond current capabilities.

"To date, humanity's understanding of natural science might not even account for one-billionth of the universe's mysteries. So, future technology isn't just speculative or imagined; it's real, waiting on our path forward for exploration and discovery.

The purpose of technology is to advance humanity, whether in exploring our own mysteries or in utilizing tools. Solar Corona will undoubtedly be the pioneer and guide on this path of exploration, standing at the forefront of all humanity," Bruce looked into Trista's eyes, conveying unshakeable faith and passion.

"Therefore, everything about Solar Corona must showcase a sense of trans-era future. Beyond these temporary office spaces, our buildings, logos, slogans, products, and designs must all reflect this ideology.

"At the very least, when people think of technology, Solar Corona should come to mind first; when discussing the future, Solar Corona should be first; when facing obstacles, Solar Corona should be the thought. Solar Corona is the synonym for innovation and the future."

Trista Joyce thought she was past the naive phase of being easily swayed, but facing Bruce's unrestrained and confident rhetoric, she felt the long-lost excitement and anticipation again, as unquestionable as the daily sunrise or the earth's ceaseless rotation, yet filled with freshness and expectation.

This was partly due to her comprehensive understanding of Solar Corona's research projects, initially disbelieving the astonishing studies, each capable of global shock once disclosed. But

more so, it was Bruce's infectious passion and determination, his unwavering belief and intense gaze.

Even Trista, who typically felt uncomfortable beside men, had to admit this man had an extraordinary charm, making her somewhat enjoy their interaction, though unrelated to affection.

She didn't realize it was Bruce's vibrant and dynamic magnetic field subtly influencing her, his normally restrained vitality surpassing desires and relationships, purely a higher echelon's allure, just as humans naturally gravitate towards beauty.

Lost in thought, Trista needed to digest the impact of Bruce's words, his unusual foresight and ambition palpable without psychic abilities. This undoubtedly altered her perception of Bruce, adding complexity, especially since this reputed playboy had always been courteous without overstepping, surprising Trista who had braced for different scenarios.

The journey from Dublin to London is over 500 kilometers, requiring a ferry crossing since Ireland and the UK are not contiguous. Bruce fell silent, pondering something, cigar in hand, looking out the window, taking a moment to rest.

Chapter 28: Hell's Paratroopers

The road conditions in Europe were generally good, making the entire journey take just over five hours.

The spacious interior and luxurious amenities of the Lincoln Navigator made the trip quite comfortable. Its stability and sound insulation were top-notch, featuring a flat-screen TV, high-end sound system, bar, and car fridge. Calling it a luxury palace on wheels wouldn't be an exaggeration.

Departing from the port of Holyhead in Wales, the convoy once again set off, this time onto British soil.

Not long into their drive on the motorway, Bruce suddenly turned his head, his eyes sparkling with an odd brilliance, and said something to Trista that puzzled her, "Don't panic, no matter what happens. Just stay in the car."

Trista was taken aback and about to ask questions when Bruce suddenly threw himself over her, causing her to instinctively struggle.

"Stop!" Bruce commanded with an authoritative tone, then, under Trista's bewildered gaze, he fastened her seatbelt, his strong masculine scent overwhelming her senses.

"Don't speak. Hold your head and brace your neck, curl up," Bruce instructed Trista while pressing the intercom next to his seat. "Gus, stop the car. We're under attack."

An attack?!

Trista was full of questions, mechanically following Bruce's instructions out of sheer reflex. Then, the vehicle abruptly came to a halt in the middle of the road. Sounds like raindrops and a few muffled booms came from outside.

This was inside a soundproof, bulletproof car, yet the noise from outside was clear, indicating the chaos outside was significant.

Trista finally snapped out of her daze and screamed, immediately regretting it and covering her mouth. Crouching down, she clearly saw through the front window the leading Mercedes M-Class, carrying the bodyguards, explode into flames, flipping several times before crashing down on the opposite side of the road.

"Oh, God!" The usually composed Trista moaned through clenched teeth, the successive explosions and gunfire outside throwing her mind into turmoil, mumbling in fear, "My God, someone help us..."

Was this a war? A terrorist attack? Why would such things happen in modern civilized society?!

Trista Joyce never imagined encountering such bizarre circumstances in what was supposed to be a peaceful life. Unprecedented fear seized her heart, causing her to instinctively press her head against Bruce's chest, her body tensed to its limits, a reaction that would have elicited cries of pain from anyone else.

But Bruce seemed unaffected, even taking time to look outside and smoke his cigar. He kissed Trista on the forehead and sternly said, "Keep quiet. Do you want to draw attention to yourself?"

In such a vulnerable state, Trista forgot her aversion to men, letting Bruce handle her as he pleased. His words effectively silenced the panicked woman, who now looked up at Bruce, showing an unusual vulnerability.

In reality, making noise in the car to attract outside attention was difficult, especially with the ongoing gunfire. Bruce's remark was intended to frighten her into silence, preventing any unnecessary commotion.

Though the attack was sudden, Bruce had sensed something amiss beforehand. Their convoy consisted of three vehicles, with the front and rear Mercedes M-Class each carrying four bodyguards, and the middle Lincoln Navigator, including Gus and others, also had four people.

The attackers' assault was ferocious but deliberately avoided the middle car, sparing even stray bullets, which contrasted with the immediate disablement of the front and rear vehicles—indicating the attackers wanted Bruce alive, hence sparing the Lincoln.

The surviving bodyguards from the front and rear vehicles were struggling to retaliate against the sudden attackers. After assessing the situation, Bruce reassured Trista, "Don't worry, it will be resolved soon. Remember what I said, whatever happens, just stay in the car. Understood?"

From the onset of the attack, Bruce remained calm, his demeanor exceptionally steady, which eventually calmed Trista. Though still trembling, she nodded, sitting up but clenching her fists, too scared to witness the fierce battle outside.

Bruce's bodyguards, selected by Fortress, were elite, unparalleled in their comprehensive skills. However, Bruce doubted the outcome of the battle as the attackers came well-prepared, their attack precise and targeted, especially with their superior firepower—Fortress's bodyguards were only armed with pistols.

These 15-round double-stack magazine pistols were accurate, reliable, and well-made, generally sufficient for most scenarios—except for today's, as the attackers wielded automatic weapons and heavy artillery with high efficiency and deadly precision.

Within minutes of the attack, only one bodyguard from the front vehicle was left fighting, and the situation for the rear vehicle was equally dire.

Meanwhile, Lloyd Warren crouched steadily in the bushes nearly a hundred meters from the highway, observing live feeds from his team's helmet-mounted displays. As an A-level security consultant for Black Nest Military Security

Consultants, he commanded today's operation.

Unlike his teammates, Warren wore a standard uniform without insignia and a full set of Hell Paratroopers Single-soldier Bat System, including a portable computer, sensors, display, and multifunction helmet. He also wore a mechanically exoskeleton camouflaged in special paint, covering his head, limbs, and torso.

This was one of the few Bomberhulc basic series exoskeletons owned by Black Nest, developed by Lockheed Corporation in 2011 as their first-generation wireless exoskeleton, now superseded and phased out.

Even as an outdated model, it was rarely available outside the U.S. military and development teams. Only contractors like Black Nest, with close ties to the U.S. military and Lockheed Corporation, could acquire it, and it was seldom used in regular missions.

The exoskeleton itself weighed over 100 pounds, mainly due to the electrochemical and solid oxide fuel power supply carried on the back. The armor plates, made of titanium and cast carbon fiber materials, accounted for about 30% of the weight, significantly lightening the system while providing light protection.

Today's covert mission, although the client remained mysterious and elusive, Lloyd Warren knew they were dealing with someone of great importance, as indicated by his special permission to use the exoskeleton. He was the operation's final contingency, ready to clean up any mess if necessary, or retreat according to plan to minimize impact.

Capturing the target without harm posed a challenge, but Bruce's constant movements finally presented an ambush opportunity. The limited time forced Lloyd to act decisively here.