Betrayal And Bloodshed

As Four sprinted towards the armored van, Eight's face twisted in a scowl. Suspecting Four's intentions, Eight abandoned his cover and gave chase, hot on Four's heels.

"Shit, that motherfucker," Eight muttered, his anger simmering just below the surface.

One's eyes narrowed, his expression darkening as he took in the scene. He knew their formation was compromised, leaving them vulnerable to the Special Forces' relentless onslaught. His frustration boiled over, and he bellowed, his voice laced with fury:

"The next person who pulls a stunt like that will get a bullet from me!"

Four finally reached the armored van, catching Eleven, Twelve, and Williams off guard. Williams, in particular, had resumed packing the money into bags, but his reluctance was evident in his panicked expression.

Eleven, Twelve, and the others turned to stare at Four, their faces etched with bewilderment.

"Four, what's the problem?" Twelve's brow furrowed in concern, confusion etched on his face.

"Aren't you supposed to be assisting One at the rear?"

Before he could get an answer, two deafening gunshots rang out:

"Bang! Bang!"

Twelve's and Eleven's bodies crumpled to the floor, lying flat and lifeless. Four stood over them, a malicious smile spreading across his face as he trained his gun on Williams.

Williams breath caught in his throat, his eyes frozen in terror as Four's finger tightened around the trigger.

Four's eyes blazed with hatred and irritation as he kept the gun trained on Williams.

"Kid, if you want to live, do exactly as I say," he growled, tossing a small black bag at Williams' feet.

"Fill it up with the money, and don't waste my time," Four's grip on the trigger intensified, his eyes never leaving Williams' frantic movements as he hastily stuffed the money into the bag, driven by desperation and fear.

As Eight reached the armored van, he was met with a gruesome sight: Eleven and Twelve's lifeless bodies lay before him. His face twisted in rage, Eight trained his gun on Four.

Four sensed the movement behind him and spun around, his eyes locking onto Eight's AR-15. With a swift motion, Four grabbed Williams, wrapping his left arm around the boy's neck and pressing the handgun to his temple.

"Don't move an inch, or I'll blow this kid's head off!" Four snarled, the muzzle digging deeper into Williams' skin.

"Now, drop your weapon and back away slowly," Four continued, his voice cold and menacing.

"Don't try anything stupid."

Eight stood frozen, his gun still trained on Four, as he assessed the situation. Slowly, he removed his finger from the trigger and lowered his gun to the floor. With deliberate caution, he began to back away.

Four watched Eight's actions with a mocking glint in his eye. He descended from the rear vault of the armored van, Williams still clutched in his grasp, the boy's body shaking with fear. As Four backed away, his eyes remained fixed warily on Eight, who stood watching as they retreated towards the mini van.

Four reached the mini van, where he loosened his grip on Williams' neck. He snatched the bag from Williams' hands, still training the handgun on the boy's head. Eight watched the scene unfold with a calm yet serious expression.

"Why are you doing all of this, Four?" Eight asked, his tone laced with disappointment and displeasure.

"I know we've had our differences, but this time you've gone too far."

Four's laughter was frantic and unhinged as he gazed at Eight with a crazed look in his eyes.

"You think I'd risk my life for a group of worthless idiots I don't even care about?" he sneered.

In a sudden, swift motion, Four swung the gun towards Eight, catching him off guard. A deafening shot rang out:

"Bang!"

The loud report of the gun echoed through the air as Eight crumpled to his knees, clutching his bleeding arm in agony. His teeth gritted in pain, he glared up at Four with a mixture of shock and fury.

Four callously shoved Williams aside, not sparing him a second glance. To him, Williams was insignificant, no threat whatsoever. His attention was focused on Eight, whom he approached with a fierce gaze. Eight, still seething in pain, met Four's glare with a defiant stare, his eyes blazing with anger and resentment.

Four loomed over Eight, who knelt on the ground, clutching his injured arm. With a sudden movement, Four crouched down to Eight's level, twirling his gun around his fingers in a playful gesture. A malicious grin spread across his face as he sneered at Eight.

"You know, out of all the team members, I hated you the most," Four said, his voice dripping with malice.

"And the funny thing is, I don't even know why I hate you. I just feel this intense loathing every time I see you. I told myself I'd kill you one day, and here we are." Four's laughter sent chills down Eight's spine.

Eight's eyes blazed with a murderous fury as he gritted his teeth.

"You're insane, bastard!" he spat, his voice venomous with hatred.

Four's chuckles escalated into maniacal laughter.

"I may be crazy, but you're crazier, Eight," he taunted.

"You put yourself in this situation for a worthless kid and got yourself shot. I admire your loyalty, but it's futile. He'll die after I'm done with you... Hahaha!"

Four's laughter grew louder, as he stood up from his squatting position, his gun still trained on Eight. Eight, resigned to his fate, bowed his head, closing his eyes in preparation for the end.

The air was filled with the deafening sound of gunfire:

"Bang... Bang... Bang!"

The sound of the gunshot echoed through the area, and Four's body froze, his eyes wide with shock. Slowly, he turned around, his gaze falling upon Williams, who stood behind him, a handgun still clutched in his hand, smoke wafting from the barrel.

Four's eyes bulged in disbelief, his face contorted in a mixture of shock, pain, and rage.

"D...damn you, kid!" he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

As the words left his lips, Four's lifeless body crumpled to the ground, his eyes frozen in a permanent stare.

Eight's curiosity got the better of him, and he slowly lifted his head, wondering why he was still alive after the gunshot. But what he saw left him stunned. Williams, the young boy, stood frozen, the gun still clutched in his shaking hands, his eyes wide with fear.

Eight's gaze lingered on Williams for a moment, marveling at how the boy had mustered the courage to take down Four. He then stood up, wincing in pain as he clutched his injured arm. With gentle steps, he approached Four's lifeless body, his eyes blazing with contempt.

As he stood over Four, Eight spat on the corpse, a gesture of disgust and triumph. He then bent down, wincing in pain, and picked up the small bag of money that lay beside Four's body. The same bag that had been taken from Williams.

Eight stumbled towards Williams, his injured arm throbbing in pain. Williams stood frozen, still shivering with fear, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and horror. Eight's worried expression deepened as he approached Williams.

He slapped Williams across the face, the sudden sting snapping Williams back to reality.

"This is no time to fall apart," Eight growled.

"Get yourself together."

Williams' gaze dropped to Eight's bleeding shoulder, and he felt a surge of guilt and concern. Meanwhile, Williams' own chest heaved with frantic breaths as he struggled to calm his racing heart, his fear and panic still simmering just below the surface.

"We need to get out of here, fast," Eight urged, his voice low and urgent.

"Before we're caught." He thrust the bag of money into Williams' hands, who stared at it in surprise.

It was the same bag Four had taken from him earlier. Williams' eyes locked onto Eight's, a glimmer of understanding and gratitude sparking between them.

Eight, still clutching his injured arm, walked towards the mini van, tossing the car keys to Williams, who caught them reflexively. Despite still reeling from the recent events, Williams trailed behind Eight.

Williams slid into the driver's seat, placing the bag of money beside him. He waited for Eight to make his way around to the other side of the van, his eyes fixed on the spot where Eight would soon appear.

Williams' heart skipped a beat as the sudden barrage of gunfire shattered the air. He spun around, his eyes frantically searching for Eight, only to see his lifeless body crumpling to the ground.

Williams' mind reeled in shock and horror as he took in the scene unfolding before him. A squad of special forces soldiers emerged from the surrounding area, their guns trained on him as they moved to surround the van.

"Get down from the vehicle and keep your hands on your head!" one of the soldiers barked, their voices firm and commanding. Williams' eyes darted wildly between the soldiers, his breath coming in short gasps as the reality of his situation sunk in.

The sight of the special forces, coupled with Eight's lifeless body, sent Williams into a panic-fueled frenzy. Fear consumed him, clouding his judgment as he frantically started the car. He slammed the gas pedal, reversing wildly as the wheels screeched against the road. Then, with a jerk, he spun the van around, speeding forward as bullets rained down on him.

Williams swerved desperately, trying to evade the hail of gunfire. Though he managed to break free, some bullets pierced the van's glass, striking him in the shoulders and arm. Undeterred, he floored it, speeding away with reckless abandon. His injuries, the surroundings, and the chaos around him faded into the background as he drove, his mind consumed by a singular focus: escape.

Before long, police vehicles, alerted to his escape route, joined the pursuit, attempting to intercept him. However, Williams managed to evade their efforts, slipping away from each attempted blockade. The high-speed chase intensified, weaving through the city streets as Williams drove recklessly, his sole focus on escape. He had no clear destination in mind, driven solely by the instinct to flee.

As the pursuit continued, Williams sped out of Saga City, taking the winding mountain roads at breakneck speeds. The police helicopters buzzed overhead, tracking his movements and relaying his location to other officers stationed along the route.

Williams sped down the mountain road, his tires screeching, until he reached a path sealed off by special forces. Undeterred, he accelerated even more forward, sending a wave of fear through the heavily armed men blocking his path.

"You've got to be kidding me," one of them muttered, eyes wide with alarm.

"Is he trying to kill himself and us with him?"

Just as collision seemed imminent, Williams yanked the steering wheel hard right, veering toward the narrow gap between the blockade and the mountain's precipice. The special forces held their collective breath as Williams' van tilted slightly to the right, squeezing through the tight space, teetering on the edge of the cliff.

For a heart-stopping moment, the van balanced precariously, its tires squealing in protest. Williams' fate hung in the balance, but his desperate gamble proved disastrous. The van's balance shifted, and it plummeted down the mountain, leaving the stunned special forces staring into the abyss.

As the van hurtled toward the rocky depths, Williams' thoughts raced:

"Is this how it all ends?" The sound of crunching metal and shattering glass filled the air, followed by an eerie silence.

Then, suddenly, a jarring wake-up call pierced the stillness

[Wake Up]