In the shallow pit, two mud-covered men wrestled fiercely.
Now that Salim's men had regained the upper hand, he turned his attention back to the nuclear bomb. The light on the nuclear detonator was still flashing—one press of the "confirm" button, and the nuke would be activated.
But Ethan wouldn't let that happen.
Every time Salim tried to approach the nuke, Ethan would stop him. This time, as Salim lunged towards the device again, his hand barely inches away, his calf suddenly tightened—Ethan had grabbed his foot and was dragging him back.
At the same time, another sniper round zipped through the air—once again, Salim unknowingly dodged it. The bullet ricocheted and struck an unfortunate soul in the gut. The man let out a muffled groan before collapsing.
This was the fourth time. Every single bullet that narrowly missed Salim had turned into a lethal ricochet, claiming another life. By now, no one dared to stay in this area.
Salim kicked Ethan away. If he had known this guy would be such a pain, he would have killed him earlier. Struggling to move through the thick mud, Salim found his speed greatly hindered.
Ethan got back on his feet, preparing to pounce on Salim once more—only for his foot to slip.
This time, Salim was unimpeded. He finally reached the nuke. But just as his fingers touched it, a high-speed bullet pierced his forehead, blasting open the back of his skull. White and red matter splattered across the muddy pit.
From a distance, Sniper #4 let out a long sigh of relief. Finally, that bastard was dead. He had never encountered such a difficult target before. Checking his watch, he realized it had taken him eight minutes and seven bullets.
The battle remained fierce. Although the SEALs had yet to secure the nuclear bomb site completely, they had established dominance. Anyone who approached the nuke was immediately targeted.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Ever since Owen switched to a handgun, he had been mostly playing a supporting role. The SEALs were focused on the front lines, so Owen was the first to notice a few enemies trying to flank them. Without hesitation, he sent them to meet their maker.
RPGs streaked across the night sky, fired from seemingly endless supplies. Explosions rocked the area, forcing the SEALs to tighten their defensive perimeter.
Where the hell are the Marine Corps guys?!
Jack Bauer was down to his last magazine, carefully conserving his shots.
Owen glanced at the two men he had just killed and made a quick decision—he needed to loot their weapons.
"Owen, what are you doing?"
Jack Bauer called after him, but Owen simply waved him off.
Seizing a moment when no one was paying attention, Owen crawled towards the shadows, where the firelight couldn't reach.
After creeping forward for a while, he finally reached the bodies. Leaning against cover, he started stripping their gear. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a dark figure approaching.
Owen nearly fired, but at the last second, he recognized the figure—it was Ethan, though calling him a "mud man" would have been more accurate.
Unlike Owen, Ethan had opted for a much riskier approach—running in a crouched position. Naturally, this drew the enemy's attention, and now, Owen was in their sights too.
"You idiot, couldn't you—"
Before Owen could finish cursing, a rocket-propelled grenade streaked toward them, leaving a trail of white smoke.
Fuck!
Adrenaline surged. Bullet time activated.
Owen couldn't dodge bullets, but an RPG was much slower. He could clearly see its trajectory and realized he had a chance to evade it.
Luckily, the RPG was slightly off-target. Owen shoved Ethan to the side.
Boom!
A shockwave rolled over them. Though they had managed to escape the direct blast, they were still knocked down, covered in dust and debris.
Spitting dirt from his mouth, Owen gave Ethan a kick—this was all his fault.
Peeking over his cover, Owen spotted the bastard who had fired the RPG—already loading another round and aiming straight at him.
Oh, so you're really out for my life, huh?
Owen had had enough. He raised his weapon and, once again, bullet time kicked in.
"Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!"
Three-round burst. Bullet time disengaged.
The enemy took a round to the head just before pulling the trigger, sending the RPG spiraling into the sky.
Bingo.
In that moment, Owen's hands, eyes, and reflexes synchronized perfectly. He had finally unlocked the correct way to activate bullet time. Again, he took aim—bullet time engaged—fired—bullet time disengaged.
A second RPG shooter was sent to Allah.
Then the third. Then the fourth…
Hiding in an inconspicuous corner, Owen had become an RPG sniper, systematically eliminating enemy rocketeers.
Each shot took less than a second. He felt no discomfort—only precision.
Gradually, the number of incoming RPGs dwindled. Even the SEALs noticed something was off.
On the enemy side, a few sharp-minded terrorists realized what was happening. They quickly pinpointed Owen's location—and then, over a dozen RPGs locked onto him at once.
Run!
Before they could fire, Owen grabbed Ethan and bolted. Moments later, a series of deafening explosions turned their previous hiding spot into a smoking crater.
Dusting himself off, Owen noticed Ethan staring at him with admiration. Ethan had never expected Owen to be such a sharpshooter.
But before they could relax, the sound of bullets peppering their new cover filled the air. It was like heavy rain—constant and unrelenting.
Owen froze. God knows how many guns were now trained on him. That last stunt had drawn the full wrath of the enemy. Every terrorist in sight was hell-bent on killing him.
Jack Bauer's voice came through. "They're flanking us!"
Owen forced himself to look up, ignoring the splinters flying around. He had to defend himself.
Fumbling for his gun, his hand instead landed on something cold and round. Glancing down, he realized it was a broken wooden crate—filled with grenades.
What are these called again? Pre-fragmented grenades? Whatever, they'll do.
The terrorists creeping closer suddenly saw small metal objects flying towards them—landing with a series of "clinks."
A few sharp-eyed ones immediately recognized the danger and tried to run. But Owen hadn't thrown just one—he had thrown many.
Fuck!
A series of curses were drowned out by the deafening explosions. The grenades' 15-meter kill radius wiped out everything in front of the cover.
A lucky coincidence—the blasts also knocked out the enemy's signal jammer. Their communications were restored.
Jack Bauer's radio crackled.
"Advance team, come in! Reinforcements are almost there—"
"Advance team, copy that."
Owen had already burned through one crate of grenades. As soon as the dust settled, he pried open another box—more grenades rained down like a deadly fireworks display.
The resulting dust and smoke provided perfect concealment. Seizing the opportunity, Owen and Ethan moved positions. Moments later, several RPGs obliterated their former spot.
"BRRRRRRRT!"
The unmistakable sound of helicopter rotors roared over the battlefield.
An AH-1Z Super Cobra attack helicopter had arrived. The moment it entered the combat zone, the 20mm three-barreled rotary cannon under its nose opened fire.
"Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud—"
The cannon's deep roar echoed through the night.
Using a 20mm rotary cannon against infantry was pure slaughter. No cover could withstand the barrage. Within seconds, the battlefield was a charnel house of torn bodies and severed limbs.
Gunfire erupted from the outskirts—the Marines had finally arrived.
No longer holding back, the SEALs coordinated with the Cobra, launching a fierce counterattack.
A few RPGs were fired at the chopper, but they missed as it maneuvered skillfully.
The Cobra swung around. Under its stub wings, the Hellfire missile pods ignited—rockets streaked through the night, turning the enemy's last known positions into raging infernos.
Even the dirt smelled burnt.
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