Manual of Space-Time Interference

The cold rainy night may be the best hidden veil for dialects at this moment.

The slight sound of walking was covered up by the majestic rain outside, and the figure was pinned in the darkness, disappearing without a trace. If it wasn't for a subtle observation, the remaining five team members would have been impossible to find, unknowingly. , There is already a person who sneaked to their side.

"Well!"

A muffled hum sounded in this silent corridor, and the dialect quickly turned back, dragged the man into the room behind him gently, twisted his neck again, and made sure that he was dead, there was no Nostalgic for the weapons and equipment on his body, but quickly touched the fifth floor.

Under this darkness, he seems to have transformed into a ghost walking in the darkness, constantly harvesting the remaining lives in this building...

"Ta, tat..."

Along with the sound of a slight footstep, the corridor also shimmered slightly. Dialect looked at it, and slightly retracted his leaning body. Then, he heard the sound of "Bang!"

The light dissipated slightly, and the dialect slowly stuck out his head, gently touched the room that the team member searched just now, and after a quick glance, he stood quietly beside the door.

"Berg, I think we can have a drink in the evening. Guess what I found, a bottle of whisky!"

A voice came from inside, and the dialect's nerve suddenly collapsed, tightening the saber in his hand.

"OK! OK! I won't get drunk at night, I'll just have a drink, really just a drink, by the way, what about Glens and Bit? Why didn't you hear the sound?"

The light beam hitting the door became brighter and brighter, and at the same time, the original chattering voice gradually turned into a kind of doubt, with a hint of vigilance. Dialect listened and held his breath.

"Gruns? Butter? Hear please answer?"

The voice slowly came close, and the gun head of the rifle slowly stretched out from the door. Dialect's pupils shrank slightly, looking at the slightly protruding body, he held the military dagger in his backhand and stabbed it directly at the neck.

"boom!"

A gunshot sounded so clearly in this cold rainy night, Dialect turned slightly to the side, let go of the military dagger in his hand, and instantly pulled out his pistol, and ran directly downstairs.

"Phils, Phils, what's the situation, please answer when you hear me?"

One after another sound came from Firth's headset. Firth's eyes opened wider and wider, but he could only make a grunting sound. At the same time, blood flowers kept coming out of his mouth. He stretched out towards his neck, but finally let it go.

"Prepare for battle, there is still one person in the building, all team members report their positions!"

"Everything is normal here on Glens, and it is currently on the first floor!"

"Bill's side, Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!"

A fierce exchange of fire sounded on the 4th floor, and then quickly returned to calm, leaving only the sound of the rain curtain hitting the spot outside.

"Bill!"

A loud shout came from the direction of the eighth floor, and the dialect calmly removed the empty rifle magazine from the handle and put it into the tactical pocket, then replaced it with a full magazine, and looked up at the eighth. upstairs, and then quickly ran downstairs.

"Grace, immediately occupy the highest commanding heights and start sniping on the spot, now only the two of us are left!"

"receive!"

Berg listened and took a breath, then took out a talker from his waist, pressed the button and said, "The A31 team encountered an emergency, Bill, Glens, Beet, and Phils all fell down. ,Request support……"

"Berg, listen, the fastest support will arrive within 15 minutes, but you need to ensure the safety of yourself and the rest of your team as much as possible, and provide us with enemy range at all times!"

"Understood!" Berg replied, hanging the intercom on his waist again, then took out his pistol, opened the chamber, and slowly walked to the stairwell, step by step, towards the 7th floor Go, but didn't notice, the thin line that intercepted in the darkness.

"Boom! Boom!"

With a slight resistance, the sound of something rolling came out. It was so obvious in this silent place that Berg quickly pointed the pistol over, and then, there was no more and then...

"Boom! Boom!"

Two roaring voices sounded from the stairs between the seventh and eighth floors. Dialect looked up slightly, crossed the broken window in front of him, and stepped into the rain curtain.

This simple serial booby trap was made after he killed Glens. The purpose was to block the route of the people on the 8th floor to go downstairs, and then solve the people on the 8th floor without a fight.

"Susususu..."

The heavy rain poured, and the whole body was soaked in an instant. A cold feeling was uploaded from the body again. The dialect looked at the direction of the North Star, and then quickly turned towards the other direction, a place close to the edge of the city, and at the same time on the map. The place with the fewest military points...

……

"Borg! Berg! whatthefuck! shit!"

Grace scolded, quickly kicked the door in front of him, and walked directly to the balcony, lying down, using binoculars to constantly observe the surrounding situation, and then vaguely saw a trace of abnormality~www .wuxiaspot.com~ I got you! "

Grace's voice carried a sternness. Looking at the figure in the telescope that kept running in the rain, he took a deep breath and put his eyes on the scope.

Holding his breath, Grace's world seemed to be nothing but the running figure in the scope. He looked at it and slightly pulled his finger on the trigger.

At this moment, the cold hairs on Fang Yan's body stood up involuntarily, and at the same time his temples continued to swell.

"Duang!"

A harsh, high-pitched sound was particularly evident in this rain curtain. Dialect put his arms up, and instantly hid behind the building next to him.

The sixth person, a sniper hiding outside!

Dialect instantly realized the problem, then thinking of the second voice that sounded just now, he picked up the frying pan on his **** with a strange expression.

Sure enough, a clear depression appeared at the bottom of the pot. The bullet should have been hit from the side just now, and then bounced off it.

This strength, this direction, this caliber...

To the southeast! The distance is about 240m! Fifth floor!

Dialect thought, turned to the side, and stretched out the frying pan a little. At the same time, a spark flashed, the frying pan was broken in an instant, and then involuntarily escaped from the palm of his hand.

God of pot, thank you for your blessing!

Dialect squinted his eyes, meditated a sentence in his heart, raised his rifle, and quickly ran in the other direction in this cold rainy night...