bdsm-fiction Chapter 5, Chapter 5 WC, it's a nuclear bomb!
Chapter 5, Chapter 5 WC, it's a nuclear bomb!
Luo Huan stared at the image inside the bead.
After leaving the city, Jason's pickup truck did not enter the highway, but instead turned onto an abandoned county road.
The roadside signs were rusted and the words were illegible.
After driving for about twenty minutes, the car turned into a partially collapsed shopping mall parking lot.
At the end of the parking lot, there was a sporting goods store with its roller shutter door half-closed, and a sign with faded spray paint on the door that read "No Whites Allowed".
And a hunter symbol holding a gun.
Jason didn't stop, but drove straight in. Behind the door was a downward slope, and the pickup truck drove down the ramp into the underground garage.
The view inside the bead suddenly opened up.
The underground parking garage is at least the size of two football fields.
The lights illuminated the entire space in a stark white light.
All the scrapped commercial vehicles were piled up to one side, while the parking spaces were filled with pickup trucks, off-road vehicles, and military jeeps of various colors with a distinctly redneck style.
What truly opened Luo Huan's eyes was the open space between the piles of cars.
Boxes of weapons were piled up directly on the concrete floor.
Wooden crates were pried open, metal crates were left with their lids open, and green plastic crates were stacked into a wall.
Rifles, pistols, submachine guns, sniper rifles.
Most of the guns' blued surfaces reflected a brand-new, cold light; some still had their greaseproof packaging paper completely removed.
Dozens of white men walked among the stacks of goods, most of them wearing work pants or camouflage uniforms.
The sounds of conversation echoed in the empty garage with a low hum.
"There was a problem with the trigger assembly in this batch of ARs, so 30% of them were returned."
"Those RPKs from Eastern Europe are sturdy, but the ammunition is hard to find."
"The bulletproof inserts will arrive at the end of the month; they are Level IV."
Luo Huan zoomed in.
A box of freshly opened rifles had a factory label on it, dated eleven months ago.
The other box of pistols had consecutive serial numbers, and the production date was even just four months ago.
She saw someone take an anti-tank rocket launcher out of a box; the Russian markings on the launcher were still clearly visible.
"Were these directly taken from the assembly line at the military factory?"
Luo Huan's lips twitched.
Although I had some idea that America was involved in military smuggling, I didn't expect it to be this intense.
Jason carried his bag through the pile of goods.
No one stopped him; only a few people looked up, nodded, and went back to their own business.
He walked to the deepest part of the garage and pushed open a heavy fire door.
Behind the door is another space.
Bigger, taller, and brighter.
A MiG-21 fighter jet was parked in the middle of the open space.
The red star paint on the wings is faded, but the fuselage looks intact.
Next to the aircraft, a cylindrical object lay horizontally on a support, its outer shell painted with faded radiation warning signs and three sets of Russian letters.
"Holy crap! That's a nuclear bomb! How could they even make that?"
Luo Huan brought her face closer to the surface of the bead.
It was indeed a tactical nuclear warhead. The yield markings were unclear, but the shape was exactly the same as one she had seen in her textbooks before.
Jason didn't even glance at them, and went straight to a room in the corner that had been converted from a shipping container.
The door was ajar. He knocked twice and then pushed it open to go inside.
The room was filled with more boxes, but they were relatively neatly organized.
Behind a desk, James Jones is counting a stack of receipts.
He looked to be in his fifties, bald, with a thick neck, wearing a brand-new army uniform with a silver white-headed sea eagle pinned to his chest, and his exposed arms covered in scars and tattoos.
"Commander Jones."
"Karl".
Jones put down his pistol and stood up.
The two hugged briefly before parting ways.
Jones sized him up.
"You don't look well, but you've gotten stronger."
Jason didn't reply, but put his gym bag on the table and unzipped it.
Bundles of hundred-dollar bills were exposed, sealed with bank seals.
"Three hundred and fifty-seven thousand," Jason said. "That's all I have."
Jones didn't even look at it, he just picked up the gym bag from the table and put it on the floor in the corner.
He pointed to the other side of the office.
Several long black boxes and storage boxes were neatly arranged there.
"Everything is here."
Jones said,
"All of these are new stock."
Upon hearing this, Jason walked to the first box and opened the lid.
Inside is a Gen IV bulletproof vest with front and rear ceramic inserts.
Next to it were a tactical belt, a leg holster, and a quick-draw magazine pouch.
He picked up the vest to check the locking mechanism of the insert plate and pulled the shoulder straps to test the adjustment rail.
Then they began to put them on.
The vest makes a rustling sound as the webbing rubs together when it's put on.
He tightened the drawstring at his waist, making his vest fit snugly against his torso.
Next comes the tactical belt, which is fastened, and the leg covers are attached.
The entire process was silent and skillful.
"Where's Mike?"
Jones leaned against the table and asked,
"Last month you said he wanted to learn how to shoot, so I kept a training gun for him."
Jason is stuffing AR magazines into his magazine pouch.
He paused for a moment, then continued.
"He's dead."
He said.
Jones remained silent.
Jason opened the second box.
Inside is a Daniel Defense M4A1, equipped with an EOTech holographic sight, a 3x magnifying glass, a tactical light, and a laser designator.
The gun was new, and the smell of gun oil was still strong.
He pulled the lever to check the chamber, pressed the magazine release button, opened the bolt when empty, and pulled the trigger to release the slide.
The sound of mechanical parts colliding echoed in the room.
"How did he die?"
Jones asked.
"Selling blood and using enhancement agents."
Jason said briefly.
He put down his rifle and opened the third box.
Inside are two Glock 19X rifles, each equipped with three extended magazines and an OSS suppressor.
There's also an MPX submachine gun with a folding stock and a red dot sight.
Jason picked up a pistol, removed the magazine, pulled the slide to check the barrel, and pulled the trigger to test the trigger pull.
The trigger reset sound was short and sharp.
"Where's Erica?"
Jones's voice lowered.
"The last time she came, she said she wanted to go to the state university."
The fourth box contained explosives.
Two M67 hand grenades, two M84 flashbangs, two pieces of C4 plastic explosive, and matching detonators and timers are packaged in an anti-static box.
Jason picked up a C4 chip and checked its packaging integrity.
"He's dead too."
He says,
"House party. Actually, I was being used as a drug addict."
His voice was flat, as if he were reporting the weather.
Jones didn't say anything.
The only sound in the room was Jason checking his equipment.
The fifth box contained a drone equipped with a thermal imaging camera and a laser rangefinder.
There are also four sets of backup batteries and a control panel.
Jason opened the tablet, started the drone, and the four rotors spun briefly before stopping.
The self-test list on the screen is all green.
Finally, there was a long wooden crate.
Jason pried open the box. Inside was an AT4 rocket launcher, with two HEAT warheads next to it.
He lifted the rocket launcher, checked the front and rear sights, and confirmed that the launch mechanism was in good working order.
After all the checks were completed, Jason turned around, dressed neatly.
The person was completely covered by equipment, with only their face and hands showing.
"Sorry, I owe you this time."
"You still owe me your life, kid. Just say the word if you need any help."
Jones looked at him,
"None of us are dead yet."
Jason raised his right hand.
He opened his palms, palms facing upwards.
The cross-shaped burn scar was clearly visible in the palm of his hand.
The scar gleamed, with a subtle sheen flowing under the light.
"Need not."
Jensen said,
"The Lord is guiding me."
Jones stared at the scar.
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
Jason left with his full gear.
Jones was left alone in the office.
He sat back in his chair, picked up the pistol he had been wiping earlier, but didn't continue wiping it. He just held it.
"Lord...?"
He said in a low voice.
Inside the divine realm, Luo Huan stared at the bead.
Jensen had already driven away from the armory.
But her attention was on Jones.
A small section of the image within the bead shows Jones in the office.
He remained seated in his chair, gun in hand, his gaze fixed on the empty space.
"Not enough, you old man, where's your passion?"
Luo Huan floated in the air, cursing and swearing.
Unfortunately, the work Jason is doing in this world is too small right now; her power can't yet reach someone whose desires are insufficient.
"So annoying!"
She pouted and shouted in dissatisfaction.
"A colonel who hasn't retired yet, with fighter jets and nuclear weapons, can create far more fun than a retired veteran."
"With a loud bang, I, the boss, have arrived!"
"Unfortunately, no."
Luo Huan died with a snap, and then came back to life with another snap.
"Garlic bird, garlic bird, let's take a look at old James instead."
She looked at the main screen.
Jason's pickup truck sped through the night, its headlights cutting through the darkness like a moving knife.
"Speed up, old James."
She fell backward, lying in nothingness, her long, silvery-white hair spreading out.
"I can afford to wait, but I don't want to wait any longer~"