Entertainment: Starting as a Succubus, Taking Hollywood by Storm-Chapter 440 - 439: Tricked and Ambushed

The twenty mercenaries Goodman Hall had brought were true elites.

They took just twenty minutes to finish the fight.

Everyone in the two opposing vehicles was captured—a total of ten people. Four soldiers had been shot in the shoulder or arm, rendering them unable to fight, while the remaining six surrendered, including the man in the black suit.

"Who are you?"

After securing all the captives with handcuffs, Goodman Hall stormed into the village, furious.

One of the men in camouflage, upon hearing his American accent, immediately protested.

"Damn it, you're Americans! We're with Colonel Richard, part of the 22nd Light Infantry Regiment. Shit, you just attacked your own allies!"

"Fuck!" Goodman Hall was under enormous pressure and shouted back, "Cut the bullshit! Why are you here? Who sent you?"

The soldier in camouflage yelled back, "Fuck, it was your American oil company that sent us here! What the hell are you trying to do?"

His voice was full of grievance.

"Was it Campbell Oil that hired you?" Goodman Hall asked.

"Yes, it was them. You already know, so why are you asking?" The soldier sounded even more aggrieved.

"Where is David Scott?" Goodman Hall pressed.

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"Who?" The soldier looked confused.

"David Scott! The president of Campbell Oil—the guy who hired you, the one you picked up at the airport!"

"I don't know his name. I was just following orders to pick up someone, but that guy got out at the airport gate before we left."

Shit, that was a blind spot.

Goodman Hall had a sinking feeling that he'd been played.

Still unwilling to give up, he pointed at the man in the black suit.

"Then who the hell is he?"

The man in the black suit, hands cuffed behind his back, looked up from where he was crouched.

"My name is Dean Smith. I'm a lawyer—Senior Partner at Latham & Watkins." He raised an eyebrow and added, "Now, do you mind untying me? Or should I sue you for unlawful detention?"

A lawyer?!

Goodman Hall's expression changed.

Latham & Watkins was one of the top five law firms in the United States.

But then he remembered—he wasn't in the U.S. right now. His mood relaxed for a moment... until he realized he would eventually have to go back to the U.S.

His face darkened again.

Forcing a smile, he helped Dean Smith to his feet, even dusting off his suit. Then he turned to his mercenaries and ordered, "Hurry up and unlock Mr. Smith's handcuffs."

Once freed, Dean Smith stretched his wrists, then smirked at Goodman Hall.

"Mr. Goodman, our firm merely hired these British soldiers to retrieve some items for us. I'm curious—why did you attack us?"

Goodman Hall's eyes flickered as he gestured for his men to check the large crate that had been carried out earlier.

He then pulled Dean Smith aside, walking him toward the edge of the village.

Dean Smith knew exactly what was happening but didn't resist. After all, the mercenaries had the guns. Besides—

David Scott had told him that if things went south, they could just hand over the items.

Goodman Hall kept up small talk with Dean Smith near the village entrance for half an hour.

Then, his lead mercenary walked over and gave a slight shake of his head.

Damn it!

Goodman Hall dropped the act and turned to Dean Smith.

"Wait here."

Then he strode back toward the village with the mercenary commander.

"What was in the crate?" Goodman Hall demanded.

"Uh... some hand-drawn comics. They look old—maybe antiques?" the mercenary leader replied uncertainly.

"What the fuck?! Comics?!" Goodman Hall cursed, rage boiling inside him. "I fucking knew it! We've been tricked! Did you search the village?"

"Yeah. There's nothing here."

"A complete fucking waste of time!"

Goodman Hall's expression was awful. He no longer had any patience for the lawyer.

Waving his hand, he ordered, "Let's go. Bring everyone with us. And take those two vehicles as well."

The convoy set off toward Baghdad once again.

By now, night had fallen.

There were barely any cars on the road. No streetlights.

Besides the glow of their own headlights, the surroundings were pitch black.

Inside his vehicle, Goodman Hall shivered slightly and pulled his coat tighter.

"Damn it, this place is creepy as hell," he muttered.

Dean Smith shot him a mocking look.

"And whose fault is that?"

Goodman Hall ignored him and was about to tell the driver to speed up when—

A strange whistling sound cut through the darkness.

A streak of red light shot toward them.

Boom!

Flames exploded into the night.

The armored vehicle at the front of the convoy was flipped over violently.

"Jesus Christ, what was that?!" Goodman Hall screamed.

"A rocket launcher! We're under attack!" the mercenary in the passenger seat roared, immediately barking into his earpiece, "Stop the vehicles! Everyone out! Use the cars for cover! Desak, check if Brown is still alive!"

A mercenary tumbled out of one of the cars, keeping low as he zigzagged toward the overturned armored vehicle.

He yanked at the door—it was jammed.

Without hesitation, he pulled a carbon steel dagger from his boot, jammed it into the door's edge, and pried it open.

A second attempt—finally, the door gave way.

"Boss, Brown's still alive! His head's busted, but he's breathing. I'm pulling him out!"

Just then—gunfire erupted.

Bullets pinged off the metal, ricocheting around them.

Goodman Hall was frozen in fear.

Beside him, Dean Smith had turned pale, frantically making the sign of the cross.

The mercenary commander yanked open the car door and barked, "Get out, you idiots!"

He roughly grabbed Dean Smith, shoving him out first. Then he pulled Goodman Hall out after him.

The driver, who had climbed out of the passenger seat, crouched behind the front wheel, trying to use the car as cover.

Carefully, he peeked out to assess the situation—

Bang!

A sharp crack rang out.

The driver's head snapped back—his skull blown open.

Blood and brain matter splattered all over Goodman Hall's face.

"Ahhhhhh!"

Goodman Hall let out a high-pitched scream like a terrified woman.

"Shit, they've got a sniper!" The mercenary commander roared. "It's too bright here—shoot out the car lights!"

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Gunfire echoed, plunging the area into darkness.

The only remaining light came from the burning armored vehicle, where agonized screams still rang out.

"British soldiers!" Dean Smith suddenly shouted.

"What?!" Goodman Hall, still in shock, blurted out.

"The British! There are British soldiers in that armored vehicle! They're getting roasted alive!"

"Oh, shit!"

Goodman Hall cursed.