Chapter 154: Gathering Intelligence

"Clang—"

At the port's container yard, Sam led the group to a shipping container and reached out to unlock it.

"Gentlemen, ladies, pick your gifts as you please…"

As Sam's voice fell, the lights flickered on.

Inside the container, rows upon rows of neatly arranged firearms were secured on racks, glistening under the lights with a deep metallic sheen.

Owen scanned through them—HK416, M4, AK, Barrett, UMP—various rifles were categorized and organized. There were assault rifles, submachine guns, and sniper rifles, and in one corner, he even spotted an RPG launcher.

The selection of handguns was relatively limited, with only Beretta 92F, M1911, and CZ83 available. Below, boxes of neatly stacked ammunition gleamed with a metallic luster.

"Wow, this is a goldmine. Sam, your stockpile here is enough to start a small war."

Owen was genuinely surprised. Any gun enthusiast who suddenly stumbled upon an armory like this would feel as if they had discovered a hidden treasure.

He casually picked up a CZ83, inserted a magazine, and pulled the slide. The crisp mechanical click was music to his ears.

"Take whatever you like. These are all brand-new, unregistered guns. There should be more than enough for you…"

Sam spoke generously, and the rest of the team began selecting weapons that suited them.

Owen was the fastest. He didn't have any particular preferences when it came to firearms, so he quickly emerged carrying a case filled with his selected gear—an HK416 with six magazines, a CZ83 with four spare magazines, a Level III ballistic vest, and a few fragmentation grenades.

The others also emerged one after another, carrying similar loadouts—mostly assault rifles paired with handguns, all equipped with Level III ballistic vests.

It wasn't that they didn't want better protection, but their mission was a raid—speed was key.

If they got bogged down, even heavy body armor wouldn't save them. In a one-versus-200 scenario, they'd be obliterated in seconds.

The only exception was Hotshot. Unlike the others, who carried firearms, body armor, and grenades, he also had a large bag filled with various detonators and explosives.

Sam's arsenal was incredibly comprehensive, with everything they could possibly need—even multiple types of explosives, giving Hotshot plenty of room for creativity.

After packing their gear into the trunk, the group returned to their hideout.

…

While Owen and the others were selecting weapons, Bryan was in a small room with Alex.

Silly White Sweet was busy on a laptop, but the occasional bloodcurdling screams coming from the room behind her made it hard to concentrate.

"Damn it."

She sighed, closing her laptop in frustration. It wasn't just the screaming—it was also the unstable voltage fluctuating in the building.

As if on cue, every time the lights dimmed, the screams grew even more harrowing.

Inside the room, Bryan watched impassively as Alex—barely recognizable as a human at this point—trembled on the verge of insanity. Bryan pulled the switch again, and under the flickering light, Alex let out another agonized scream.

Sparks danced around the switch. Bryan sighed and shut off the power. The damn voltage in this place was too unstable—if he kept going, he might burn out the entire electrical system, which would be more trouble than it was worth.

"What do you want to know? I'll tell you everything! Just stop! Ask anything—I'll talk, I swear, just stop!"

Alex sobbed uncontrollably. In his terrified eyes, Bryan's hand finally moved away from the switch—only to reach for a white towel hanging on the wall.

Alex's face twisted with sheer terror.

He had completely abandoned any thought of resisting.

He couldn't understand why he had ever considered hiring this demon. That's right—this man was a devil.

For the past fifteen minutes, Bryan had tortured him without even asking a single question.

Even when he begged to talk, Bryan didn't listen.

It was as if getting information wasn't the goal at all—only the torment itself.

When Bryan soaked the towel in water, Alex shivered violently.

A horrifying realization struck him—waterboarding.

"No, no, no! You can't do this! Waterboarding is banned under the Geneva Convention! I'll tell you everything—just don't do this! Please! I can't take it anymore!"

If he weren't tied to a chair, Alex would've dropped to his knees and begged.

"No, no, no, you're mistaken."

Bryan picked up the soaking wet towel but didn't drape it over Alex's face. Instead, he twisted it at one end, wringing it tightly into a rope-like shape.

"Ever heard of the Gulag? This is a torture method from northern Siberia."

Alex was too shaken to respond.

Bryan continued, "Russians don't rely on high-tech interrogation methods. They use whatever they have on hand. The Gulag method is what I'm about to do to you…"

He gestured with the tightly twisted towel in his hand.

"In a moment, I'll push this towel down your esophagus. The entire thing."

Alex's stomach churned violently at the mere thought.

"But don't worry—I'll be holding onto this end," Bryan said casually, as if recounting a bedtime story.

"As your stomach tries to digest it, the contractions will wrap the towel tightly around your stomach lining. And when I pull it out…"

Bryan paused for effect.

"Your stomach lining will come out with it."

Alex dry-heaved, bile rising in his throat.

"But don't be afraid—you won't die immediately. Most people last about a week before finally succumbing. It's a very slow… very painful process."

"Oh—oh god—"

Alex couldn't take it anymore. Just the description alone nearly broke him—he retched violently.

…

Half an hour later, Bryan tossed a notebook onto Silly White Sweet's desk.

"Becky, here's the blueprint of the villa and the tunnel layout from Alex. Make me a map—I'll need it tonight."

"Uh… uh, okay."

For the first time, Becky hesitated.

She had never imagined that the always-smiling, kind-looking Bryan was this ruthless.

She had overheard bits and pieces of what had happened inside the room—and she wasn't even sure if the man in there was still alive.

Bryan left without another word.

As the door swung shut behind him, more sounds of retching echoed from the room.

So he was still alive…

But just thinking about Bryan's earlier description made Becky's legs tremble.

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