Thug and Idol: 10X Rewards Second Identity System

Chapter 210 Fights in tight spaces

The fanatics standing between Tristan and Gospel reacted faster than Tristan could pull the trigger.

Two of them jumped at the path of the bullet with speed that must've been at the limit of human possibilities—at least, it felt like it. One was slightly faster than the other.

The bullet that should've struck Gospel hit the fanatic into the shoulder—right into the clavicle.

Tristan didn't stop shooting because of this, still trying to hit Gospel—but there were more people moving into his line of fire, and some of them were aiming back at him. His bullets made two people fall to the ground, clutching their bleeding wounds—but they were already getting up, and the Gospel was still unharmed.

Worse, Gospel's influence on his followers became even stronger than before. The aura he was spreading had only increased in power, and it made movements of his fanatics just as good as Tristan's best trained men.

Tristan didn't need to be a tactical genius to realize that he was in an unfavorable position. His position—a narrow hallway—only let him alone open fire at the enemies, while they could cover him with bullets.

And they won't miss. He could tell it from the way the barrels of their pistols located his face. Tristan's chest was protected by a bulletproof vest, but his face was only protected by goggles and a respirator.

Tristan raised his free hand and signaled his group to retreat; an instant later he ducked and dashed back, seeing cover behind the corner of the hallway.

The earplugs muffled the sounds of gunshots to quiet pops. On his way to safety, Tristan saw bullets break off pieces of concrete from the walls.

His people were dangerously close to being hit as well, but they knew enough about fighting in tight spaces to not crowd Tristan. When he signaled retreat, they were already halfway to behind the corner.

Tristan pressed his back to the wall and carefully peeked outside. To his dismay, the Gospel was still talking.

But much worse, he remembered what he saw while he tried to shoot Gospel.

Behind the group of people was another door—another exit from this basement. From this room, at least.

If not for it, it wouldn't have been a terrible problem if this basement had only one exit. Now, however, most of the group could escape through this door while a few people cover Tristan's path!

'Shit. The people who scouted this place earlier didn't have a second exit. This door might really lead just to another room—but... Logically, it probably leads to the upper floors. Or, perhaps, to the elevator shaft. It's not an exit, but someone can escape through it. At which point they can climb through anywhere.'

Tristan grit his teeth. Even if he could just radio to Damien to move his team to cut off Gospel's retreat, he didn't know where Gospel would go.

Tristan made a decision when he peeked from behind his cover again and saw that Gospel was creeping toward the door.

He really was leaving.

'Well, shit. Let's hope this works on him, then.'

Gospel somehow made his followers immune to the teargas, but Tristan also had a flashbang grenade on him.

He gestured a warning for his team, then pulled it out and threw the small cylinder from behind the corner.

Like Damien, who was standing near a wall, holding a bloody combat knife with both arms and panting.

Tristan pointed at him until Damien raised his eyes at Tristan. Then Tristan gestured around and made a gesture for medical aid.

Damien nodded.

Tristan knew he understood what this was about—'the clean-up is on you'.

Then Tristan gestured to his team to stay here and rushed after Gospel.

Risky—but he had to try.

The hallway was dark, but Tristan switched to heat vision. Through it, he could feel Gospel's footprints in the dust.

They led forward, toward another door, and past it—the elevator shaft, like Tristan predicted. There was no elevator in it, of course—only naked and cracked concrete walls.

There were enough footholds for Tristan to easily climb up a floor. Now he was at ground level—and more footprints leading away.

Gospel escaped through the back of the building.

Tristan ran after him, but when he reached the window through which the Gospel's footsteps went and saw no other traces of the man, Tristan knew he was too late.

At this point, Gospel became impossible to track. The area was a concrete maze, and Gospel clearly knew it well.

"Fucking hell!"

Tristan kicked the nearest wall in frustration. It only increased from the pain that echoed through his bones.

His mood was still stormy when Tristan returned to the basement. By this point, he had removed his earplugs.

Others did the same already by then, and were talking to each other. Their voices were muffled by their respirators. The most wounded were already being moved away from the noxious basement to fresh air, which didn't sting their wounds.

"Stop prodding at me! It's just a bruise," Damien hissed at one of his people, who was poking at Damien's ribs.

Tristan only needed a single glance at his underboss to say, "It's a rib crack, Damien. Gospel had escaped—now tell me we have at least someone from his fanatics alive."

Damien scowled.

"Yes. The first two you've dealt with are quite alive. The others would only go down one way."

"That's something. As soon as we clean this place up, I want to talk with them."