At an airport in the Middle East, it was only nine o'clock in the morning, and Peter Miller, who had just walked out of the airport, looked around curiously, he was coming to this country for the first time.

His identity on the face is a tourist, a Mi Chinese who came to travel. But in fact, he is an agent of the secret operations department of the CIA in the United States, and he came here to transfer from here to carry out a mission.

His performance is very much in line with his positioning as a tourist, after taking the bus from the airport to the city, he spends the whole day touring around, taking pictures everywhere, tasting local snacks, and doing what a tourist should do.

At night, he randomly found an ordinary hotel to live in, and after checking in, he didn't do anything, just stared patiently at the phone, waiting for the phone to ring.

Here are their people. According to the plan, he will get more detailed information on the mission and acquire equipment here.

Early tomorrow morning, with the help of the innkeeper, he will hire a guide and rent a car to go to another city.

But after the appointed time, the phone never rang. He was wondering when there was a sharp knock on the door.

He didn't know if there were any of their people or who were them, but the unusual situation made him wary.

He picked up the lamp, which looked sturdy and weighty, and stood by the door, before asking, "Who?" ”

The other party quickly said two names, and he was shocked. Of these two names, the first is that his contact should say it when he asks for his name on the phone, asking if he is the person, and the second is the name of his contact.

But they don't meet each other and only communicate on the hotel's internal phone.

Now I don't know why, these two names were directly called out by the people outside his door.

The knock on the door kept ringing, hurried and forceful, and the people outside the door kept repeating the two names, the same hurried and forceful.

He thought about it for a while, but still opened the door carefully, the person who could call these two names would not be someone else, but could only be his contact.

The person outside the door rushed in, turned around and locked the door, called out his name directly, saw him nod slightly, pulled him up and walked to the small balcony, and said eagerly: "Quick, go this way!" ”

Look at it like that, a huge crisis has arrived.

Peter Miller couldn't figure out the situation, he couldn't be in danger here, this was just a transit, his mission was not here, and even the forces he was targeting had no power in the city.

If the contact person is in trouble, he can go by himself, and there is no need to come and run with him.

Standing on the small balcony, he wanted to ask a few questions, but someone outside the door was already shooting the door lock with a gun equipped with a muffler. Four shots in succession, the lock was crumbling, and he was only one kick away from kicking the door open, so he had to follow the liaison, turned out of the small balcony, jumped up, jumped to the ground, fortunately it was only the second floor, jumped down and squatted, put his hands on the ground, dissipated the force, and stood up.

As soon as he stood up, a man next to him had already pulled out a gun. He kicked it out, exactly to the man's elbow, and the gun he had just pulled out was kicked away.

His liaison stepped forward, and one kicked the man away, shouting this way, stepping over the man, Peter following close behind.

The two of them raced all the way, weaving through the narrow alleys, constantly running towards the slums high up.

Running all the way and climbing all the way, Rao is Peter's well-trained, and he is too tired to breathe.

The contact person gasped and said, "It's coming soon, there's a car ahead, let's drive ...... immediately"

Before he could finish speaking, a gunshot rang out, and the contact person fell backwards.

Peter squinted, and the liaison was dead. There was a small fork in the road, and Peter didn't have time to think about it, so he turned and ran in.

Footsteps sounded from behind, and many people chased after them. He had just arrived in this city, running in these simple and messy areas of private houses, not to mention familiar, not even the south, south, north, and west. Can only scurry around like a headless fly.

The pursuers got closer and closer, and when they heard the shouts, there were several passers-by chasing. He was panting like bellows, his legs were too heavy to lift, and if he didn't have a place to hide, he was about to run out.

Turning a corner, he was dumbfounded, there was no road ahead, fortunately the wall facing him was not too high, and with his skills, he could climb over it.

He ran as fast as he could, kicking twice on the wall, and his hands were already on the wall. As soon as you exert your hands, you are about to climb the wall.

At that moment, a gunshot rang out, and he was shot in the right arm and fell off the wall.

A large crowd gathered around, and two of them grabbed him by the arm, dragged him up, and someone grabbed him by the hair from behind, forcing his face to tilt up, so that one of the leading men could look at him, and the man looked at him, smiled and said something, as if to confirm his identity.

After a few blows on the knee with the butt of a rifle and a few blows on the stomach, he was basically unable to move, and a group of people dragged him away like dead dogs.

The men got him into the car and drove out of the city, and soon came to a farm-like place.

The men hung him up.

The leader kept asking him all kinds of questions in broken English, but he didn't know any of them, and he was confused.

There must be a mistake, you caught the wrong person.

Peter kept repeating this, but the man kept asking, and when he didn't say anything, he was beaten.

The leading questions continued, but those problems really had nothing to do with him.

At this moment, there was a gunshot outside, and the leader took out a pistol, pointed it at his forehead, and asked, "Where's that thing one last time?" ”

Peter felt the touch of the cold pistol, and his heart was filled with despair. As an agent, you are mentally prepared for death. But he is really unwilling, where and where is this, is he going to die here inexplicably today?

He still tried to make a final struggle, and explained seriously: "You really caught the wrong person, I am a Mi from the United States who came to travel......"

A "bang" gunshot.

Peter Miller's eyes widened and he stared at the man who shot him, he didn't feel much pain, but his heart was full of despair and unwillingness. But in an instant, this despair and unwillingness also dissipated, and his consciousness returned to nothingness.

……

……

The faint but mournful screams kept coming, like the wails of evil spirits in hell, so terrible and inexplicable that they seemed to make everyone who heard them feel the endless torture and pain.

Hodi, more screams rang out, so many screams that could not have been made by humans were intertwined, as if in an ensemble the most tragic symphony.

It's so desperate.

I can't listen to it anymore, or I'll go to hell forever and never wake up.

I don't want to listen to it!

I don't want to listen to it! I'm going to wake up!

The man lying on the stone bed had his eyes closed, but his eyes kept moving, and he kept hinting in his heart that he would wake up and no longer listen to the howls of the evil spirits.

He clenched his hands into fists, clenching harder and harder, clenching again.

He sat up suddenly, his hands instantly spread into palms, and he pressed his ears hard.

But the screams kept coming.

Peter, full of despair and unwillingness? Miller opened his eyes and woke up.