Chapter 150: Moving in for the Grab  

The sudden malfunction of the traffic lights infuriated the drivers, and impatient honking filled the air. 

But that honking was like a signal. 

Not only did the U.S. soldiers in the convoy react, but so did the mercenary groups waiting to strike and the gang members dreaming of a payday. 

As if answering an unspoken call, they all moved at once. 

"Bang! Bang! Bang!" 

The first gunshot from the rooftops ignited the chaos. 

Automatic gunfire erupted from both sides of the street as flashes of muzzle fire burst from the buildings. 

The disguised vendors and beggars lurking on the sidewalk tossed away their covers, pulling out weapons and joining the fight. Cars parked along the street suddenly swarmed with armed men. 

The street exploded into a full-blown firefight. 

Bullets rained down on the convoy, ricocheting off the vehicles in a metallic symphony of destruction. Hand grenades detonated amid the gunfire, sending shockwaves through the battle. 

The attackers were a ragtag mix—different weapons, different styles. This wasn't a single coordinated group, but they all shared one unspoken agreement: 

No one touched Alex's transport vehicle. 

Everything else, however, was fair game. 

The other convoy vehicles were peppered with bullets, their armored exteriors clanking under the relentless assault. If CTU hadn't prepared in advance by using fully armored vehicles and equipping their personnel with heavy-duty body armor, casualties would have already mounted. 

Still, the cars could only provide temporary protection. 

No one was dumb enough to stay inside. 

After the first wave of gunfire, the convoy personnel poured out, taking cover behind their vehicles and returning fire. 

At this point, the entire road was completely blocked. The convoy had zero mobility—it was just a row of armored "turtle shells" trapped in a kill zone. 

And everyone knew exactly how their enemies would deal with these turtle shells. 

The SUVs weren't carrying civilians—soldiers in tactical gear leaped out, taking up defensive positions behind the vehicles and quickly forming a solid firing line. 

Having learned from past ambushes, the troops had been briefed to stay vigilant. 

Sure enough, one of them suddenly shouted: 

"RPG!!!" 

Two streaks of fire shot through the air. 

The targeted soldiers dove for cover as two armored SUVs were blown sky-high, sending debris flying in all directions. The gunfire intensified. 

Under the relentless barrage, men with nothing to lose pushed forward, desperate to reach the convoy. 

To them, one lucky move meant walking away with a $100 million payday. 

Suddenly, the roar of screeching tires came from both ends of the street. 

Dozens of vehicles skidded to a halt, and more tactical teams—clad in black combat gear—emerged from behind their trucks. 

Gunfire erupted on both flanks as these reinforcements began advancing toward the center. 

CTU had pulled out all the stops. 

They had borrowed SWAT teams from other states, coordinated with the local police, and even enlisted military support. Their goal wasn't just to escort Alex—it was to wipe out every hostile force in one move. 

The street had devolved into pure anarchy. 

And in that very moment, Brian gave the order. 

"Go!" 

---

Underground 

As soon as Brian spoke, Owen pressed the detonator. 

BOOM-BOOM-BOOM! 

A rapid chain of thirty controlled explosions echoed through the tunnel. 

Each explosive was positioned with precision—blowing apart the structural supports overhead, one by one, in a carefully orchestrated sequence. 

On the street above, Alex's armored transport had just come to a stop. 

Suddenly, a series of eruptions rocked the ground around it. 

Clouds of dust and debris shot into the air like geysers, forming a perfect circle around the transport vehicle. 

Then— 

The ground collapsed. 

A moment of stunned silence. 

Then, terrified screams as the street gave way beneath the truck, swallowing it whole. 

Inside the vehicle, the FBI agents and Alex felt their world tilt violently. 

A sickening sensation of weightlessness took over as the truck plunged downward, crashing through layers of debris. 

Simultaneously— 

Across the street, Heartbeat—now standing by the black Range Rover—pressed his own detonator. 

A firework-like burst erupted from the construction truck parked nearby. 

The massive steel plate strapped to its cargo bed snapped loose, its pre-weakened support beams sheared by the controlled charges. 

With a deafening clang, the steel plate slammed down onto the hole left by the explosion—sealing it shut. 

Perfect. 

Heartbeat smirked, casually pulling out a small comb to fix his Mohawk while admiring his handiwork. 

From the moment the hole appeared to the moment it was covered, less than two seconds had passed. 

Above ground, the warring factions barely had time to register what had happened. 

One second, the armored truck was there. 

The next? Gone. 

Vanished. 

"What the hell?! Where did the transport go?!" 

The stunned mercenaries and gang members turned their heads just in time to be pelted with another wave of bullets from the CTU and military forces. 

Some had seen the truck disappear. But even if they had, they weren't getting that steel plate off. 

The thing was made of special construction-grade reinforced steel, designed to withstand tons of weight. Even a fully loaded semi-truck wouldn't dent it. 

There was no way in hell a handful of guys were lifting it. 

---

Underground 

The explosion had left the tunnel choked with dust and smoke, reducing visibility to nearly zero. 

Owen, Heat, and Ash had already donned black hoods and goggles—it was time to move. 

Through the thick haze, Heat sprinted toward the fallen transport. 

He pulled out an adhesive charge and slapped it onto the front windshield. 

Stepping back, he detonated it. 

A bright flash—and the armored bulletproof glass shattered like cheap plastic. 

"FWOOMP! FWOOMP!" 

Two tear gas canisters followed, rolling into the cabin. 

Inside, the FBI agents and Alex were still reeling from the ten-meter drop—completely caught off guard. 

They had landed hard, their bodies thrown violently against the reinforced walls. 

Even with the truck cushioning some of the impact, the fall had knocked the wind out of them. 

Organs rattled, bones jarred—internal bruising at the very least. 

And just when they thought things couldn't get worse— 

The tear gas took over. 

The confined space quickly filled with thick, choking fumes. 

Most of the agents were already incapacitated from the crash, groaning in pain. 

The two elite agents who had been on high alert still had enough strength to react—but it didn't matter. 

The gas had them coughing, choking, and tearing up in seconds. 

Even Alex, the most wanted drug lord in the world, was a mess—face covered in tears and snot, coughing uncontrollably. 

He struggled against the handcuffs anchoring him to the truck wall, his wrists burning from the strain. 

Outside— 

Heat rushed forward with a thermal cutting charge, pressing it against the armored truck's side panel. 

Carefully, he aligned the charge in a tall, rectangular shape—just big enough for a human to fit through. 

Then, he attached an industrial-grade suction cup to the panel and hooked it to the rear bumper of their getaway vehicle. 

"All set," Heat called out. 

He pulled the detonator cord. 

The specialized charge ignited— 

A blinding white glow carved a searing-hot line along the metal panel, melting it away. 

This wasn't an explosive—it was a precision heat charge, designed to slice through reinforced steel. 

In a matter of seconds, the armored wall of the truck was cut clean through.

[Check out my Patreon for +200 additional chapters in all my fanfics! Only $5 per novel or $15 for all!!] [www.p@treon.com/Mutter]

[+50 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]

[+5 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter]