Moonlight spilled over the rooftops, highlighting the sniper girl's silhouette. Alan marveled at her precision and ability, even in the dimly lit night. For someone who didn't seem to be a veteran player, landing continuous headshots from such a range was awe-inspiring.
Alan watched the elite SS soldier, slowly rise to his feet. The man's fingers wrapped around the grip of his massive firearm, an ominous sign of impending danger. Before Alan could properly assess the situation, more shadows emerged. More soldiers closed in from both sides of the street.
"Time to leave!" Alan shouted.
But his warning came a fraction too late. The sniper girl, displaying agility that belied her calm demeanor, sprinted across the roof. Without hesitation, she leaped from one building to another, vanishing into the shadows on the other side.
With adrenaline pumping through his veins, Alan emulated her actions, his footsteps echoing hers as they zigzagged through a maze of narrow alleyways, firing back at their pursuers. Bullets zipped past them, occasionally embedding themselves into the brick walls.
A sinking feeling settled in Alan's chest as they rounded a corner only to be confronted by a dead-end, with another group of Nazi soldiers eagerly waiting. The menacing gleam in their eyes suggested they had been expecting them.
Gunfire erupted, and the once silent night was filled with the cacophony of war. Alan quickly dove behind a rusted dumpster, his heart racing. "Think, Alan, think!" he muttered to himself, racking his brain for a plan of escape.
In the midst of this chaos, a distinct sound pierced the night - a loud, echoing siren from a distance. As he peeked from his cover, Alan's eyes widened. Headlights shone brightly, cutting through the gloom, growing increasingly closer. A large truck burst through the ranks of the enemy soldiers, sending them scrambling.
From the driver's window, a familiar face yelled, "Señor! Hurry, get in!"
Luis's face was smeared with dirt and sweat, his eyes wide with adrenaline, but the familiar mischievous glint was unmistakable. It was hard to believe that this was the same person Alan had advised to lie low just half an hour ago. Instead of hiding, Luis had taken matters into his own hands, commandeer a truck, and now played a pivotal role in their great escape.
Without wasting a second, Alan scrambled into the vehicle, the roar of the engine mingling with the gunshots and shouts of the enemy. As he adjusted himself, a shadow darted from the rooftop above, landing heavily on the bed of the truck. The sniper girl had chosen to take a perilous leap from a four-story building rather than be captured. The thud of her landing resonated through the vehicle.
"Luis! Go!" Alan shouted, urgency evident in his voice.
Gritting his teeth, Luis slammed his foot onto the gas pedal. The truck lurched forward, tires screeching, and raced through the narrow streets. It swayed and jolted, but Luis's hands were steady on the wheel, navigating the vehicle with an expertise that Alan hadn't known he possessed.
Behind, Alan and the sniper girl took positions. Bullets rained, the cacophony of gunfire deafening. Yet, together, they provided covering fire, their shots precise, forcing their pursuers to take cover. The cityscape was a blur, buildings and streets melding into one, as they tore through, finally leaving the city and its dangers behind.
A triumphant whoop escaped Luis's lips, echoing the exhilaration coursing through them. "Wuhuu! Señor Alan, did you see that?! Man, that was wild!"
Moments later, a soft chime sounded, and a digital display appeared before them, notifying them of their achievements:
[You have successfully evaded capture]
[You have completed F level quest]
[You received F rank reward x1]
[You received 300 survival points, 300 XP]
Catching his breath, Alan turned to Luis, gratitude evident in his eyes. "Luis," he began, voice thick with emotion, "you've just earned yourself the title of the most badass getaway driver I've ever known."
Luis flashed a wide grin, chest puffing out with pride. "Thank you, Señor! I always knew I had it in me."
Alan chuckled, shaking his head.
"So, where are we headed now?"
"We've got a rendezvous point near the shore," Alan replied, "That's our next stop."
As the adrenaline began to wane, Alan took a moment to glance at his mysterious savior. She was removing her baseball cap, revealing a cascade of fiery red hair that danced down her shoulders, reflecting the dim light in its waves. As he looked closer, he could see her striking features—high cheekbones, deep emerald eyes, and a sculpted jawline. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, around Alan's age, and her ethereal beauty was something he was sure he would have remembered from any previous game encounters.
However, as he continued to study her, a strange sense of déjà vu crept over him. There was an inexplicable familiarity about her, like a tune he couldn't place or a fragment of a dream slipping through his fingers.
She seemed to sense his gaze and locked eyes with him, her piercing gaze making him feel a tad exposed. Stammering slightly, Alan introduced himself, "Thank you for having my back back there. I'm Alan."
She continued to study him, her face unreadable, not offering a name in return.
Wanting to break the mounting tension, he ventured, "Are you alright? Do you have somewhere to go?"
She seemed to ponder this for a moment, her gaze drifting before she finally replied, "I am hungry. Feed me."
Alan blinked, taken aback by the bluntness and simplicity of the statement. It was an odd response, and he wondered if perhaps she was not a native English speaker or if the game's stress had taken a toll on her.
Nevertheless, feeling indebted to her for her timely intervention, he said, "Of course. You're welcome to join us."
The rhythmic bumps and hums of the rugged terrain under the truck's wheels were hypnotic. After half an hour's drive, they pulled up to a seemingly deserted farm. Its tall, rusted silo and the old barn, consumed by creeping vines, hinted at its long-abandoned past. They were mere shadows away from the shore, and the sea breeze mixed with the scent of aged wood and dew-kissed grass.
However, the relative peace was quickly shattered by the noise of their truck's engine. Before they could assess their surroundings, they were swarmed by a group of armed players, their weapons trained on them.
Emerging from the group with a crooked grin was a man with a rugged face and piercing eyes. "Well, well, well! Look what the cat dragged in," Merle, the notorious crimson gunner, said with a hearty chuckle, "You sure are one lucky son of a gun!"
Around him, was his redneck gang, they were just securing the perimeter hence the fast response.
Seeing all of the five rednecks were accounted for, Alan quickly asked "Where are the others?"
"Good thing you came here fast enough or, we could be having another situation on our hands," said Merle with a chuckle.
Apparently, the others were currently preparing themselves for a rescue mission, all were on board the ship ready to go when they saw a truck coming into the farm.
As Alan and the others disembarked, two familiar faces rushed forward from the gathering, their expressions a mix of relief and joy. "Mr. D! I was so worried!" exclaimed Daniel, his voice tinged with emotion. Beside him, Vicky nodded, her eyes shining with tears of relief. The sight of Alan safe and sound, was all the assurance they needed.
The rest of the group, seeing Alan and the others, shared smiles and nods, a collective sigh of relief passing through them. The tension of the mission had left deep imprints on their faces, but the joy of reuniting and the success of their venture overshadowed their fatigue.
Yet amidst the familiar faces, one stood out. The redhead, with her confident posture and piercing gaze, held everyone's attention. Noticing the stares, she introduced herself,
"Name's Rose."
Alan hardly had to put in a word, a beautiful and badass-looking girl like her was easily accepted by the group. Even Merle gave her some recognition, recognizing Rose's shooting performance at the training ground.
But soon, the ever-pragmatic Merle shifted the mood. "Alright, enough with the chat" he gazed upon Alan and said, "How are we going to divide up the loot?"
