I Want to Die, But I Am Immortal-Chapter 48: Attack

The sound of devastation filled the kitchen. A violent heartbeat could be heard in the muffled thumps of silenced pistols. The thin barricade was ripped apart by bullets. The wood broke.

The plastic broke. A round tore through a cheap pot that clanged. It sounded like a job well done to the three assassins. They thought they had a cornered target to execute.

They thought they had total control. Their biggest error was this belief. It was an arrogant miscalculation that proved fatal.

Adam was hidden in the confined area behind the glassware shelf. He had previously employed a similar strategy. He had previously ambushed them using a shelf in the upstairs hallway.

Adam picked things up quickly, and repetition was a teacher. He sat with his knees pulled up to his chest and his back against the wall. He was a coil of potential energy that was tightly wound and waiting to unwind at the right time.

The sound of the kitchen door swinging open filled his ears. He remained motionless. He stayed out of sight. Then came the first shot. He caught a glimpse of the muzzle flash.

On the other side of his pitiful barricade, he saw the bullet hole appear in the microwave. His signal was that. They set the trap.

He remained motionless. There was no big reveal from him. His economy of motion was deadly and well-practiced. He leaned out just far enough to avoid the shelf’s edge. The only exposed parts of him were his head and the hand that held his pistol. He was a ghost on the outskirts, a sliver of a target.

The assassins continued to concentrate on their bullet spray. The junk pile and the fictitious bodies concealed behind it were their world. He was never seen by them. Not at all.

Adam’s initial shot was serene. He had a very steady hand. The sound of their assault drowned out the whisper of his own pistol’s silenced report. In a split second, the bullet passed through the tiny kitchen.

It located the assassin’s head nearest the door. The man’s head jerked back. Just above his eye, a dark hole appeared. He made no noise at all. He collapsed in a heap, his body going limp.

Adam fired again before the other two could even comprehend what had transpired. He moved his aim a few feet to the left. When his partner suddenly collapsed, his second target was just beginning to turn his head.

He moved too slowly. He was hit in the forehead by the second bullet. He let his weapon fall. His knees gave way. He collapsed on the ground next to his deceased friend. Less than two seconds had passed between all of this. Two shots. Two murders.

At last, the third assassin responded. The ground beneath his feet had changed. He was once a member of an unbeatable team that completed a straightforward task. The next, he was standing above his fellow soldiers’ corpses.

Then he saw Adam. From the shelf’s shadow, he could see the gun aimed at him. Panic struck like a raw animal. All of his discipline and training vanished in a surge of overwhelming fear.

Adam fired once more. Three short shots. This time, he was not going for the head. He was making sure the first two bodies remained down by inserting rounds into their center masses. It was a reflex that was taught by loops in which adversaries had escaped with injuries that appeared to be fatal.

The final assassin had the opportunity he needed during that briefest of pauses. He plunged in. He made a clumsy, desperate sideways leap for cover.

A jumble of flailing limbs, he fell hard behind the kitchen counter. Adam’s shot slammed into the wall where his head had been just a second ago, missing him by inches. The killer was still alive. He was afraid. However, he was still alive.

Adam felt a wave of frustration wash over him. He had nearly run flawlessly. He muttered curses. He was unable to remain in his current position. Now the assassin was aware of his position. There was no longer any element of surprise.

He clambered out from behind the bookcase. He did not bolt for the door. He dashed in the direction of the corpses. Against the chaos of the kitchen, he moved quickly. He arrived at the first assassin to fall. He seized the man’s tactical vest with a burst of system-enhanced strength. Using the body as a human shield, he raised the dead weight. Behind his gory mask, he squatted on the ground.

From behind the counter came a shot. Now the third assassin was shooting mindlessly. He had just been shooting at Adam’s last known location. Adam was holding a body when the bullet struck it. With a dull impact, it thudded into the deceased man’s Kevlar vest. Adam did not even recoil.

He tightened his jaw. Even with his enhanced strength, the body’s weight was enormous. He was aware that he needed to get closer. This had to stop. He began to move. Like a gory battering ram, he thrust the corpse of the dead assassin forward.

He crawled across the kitchen floor on his knees. A boy advancing on his final adversary while concealed behind a corpse was a gruesome scene of violence. The smell of blood and gunpowder filled the air. The battle for the kitchen was far from over.

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We are so grateful to each and every one of you for joining the adventure! Your assistance is greatly appreciated. I appreciate each and every one of your Power Stones, which are like mana potions that keep me writing if you are enjoying the story.

Let us have some fun now! I want YOU in this world. The new signature technique is about to be named by our hero. What ought it to be called?

Leave your most inventive suggestions in the comments section! I will choose my favorite, and it will be included in the story’s canon with a special mention for you.

I am eager to read your insightful recommendations!

Alphaboss

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