Eric doesn't know what's going on, all he knows is that his "ordinary days" seem to be over. Pen? Interesting? Pavilion wWw. ｂiquge。 infoA whole bunch of men in sunglasses who wrapped themselves in black suits and posed as CIAs tried to arrest him for unknown reasons, all that is known for sure was that these guys seemed to have something to do with the great and mysterious work of his parents.

Speaking of which, his parents seem to be doing some outstanding research that has made great contributions to mankind, but it seems that the only people who have contributed to their own son are such a group of dangerous people who have been chased and killed by such a fierce force. Fortunately, Eric is not a soft persimmon, no matter what the other party wants to catch him, he will not be honestly tied up.

He walked around the winding alleyway to the courtyard wall of a neighborhood near his residence, and reached out to grab the two-meter-high iron fence and leaped over the spikes, as agile as a gymnast.

The black suits, while not very professional, are not idiots. Eric had figured out after a few circles in the cobweb-like alleyway, and the black suits had laid a web near his residence before they could talk to him. Not only the old house where he lives, but also the garden of the nearby private home, the community and even the supermarket are guarded by black suits. Whoever was behind them was a good hunter, and Eric was a worm in the middle of the cobwebs he weaved, unable to escape the eyes and ears of these black suits wherever he went.

The other party has indeed come up with a battle that is far more than just the capture of a high school student, but fortunately, Eric is not an ordinary high school student in his bones. And another point of luck is that he has something in his hands that the other party does not know.

Eric sped along the tree-lined path in the neighborhood and sprinted straight into the underground garage.

Yes, garages. Although he has not yet taken a driver's license, it does not prevent him from getting himself a sports car. His Chevrolet Cruze sits quietly in the white-lined parking space, which he got when he was seventeen. Whenever he asked Shenlong's parents for money to buy something in the letter, they never said a word, and they paid for it directly, from a smartphone replacement to a sports car that he shouldn't have at his age, but he himself was surprised that his parents never asked a word in this regard, just like the boss allocated funds to send the next department.

He didn't have a driver's license, but that didn't stop him from driving out for three days. What, it's crazy to go out and fly around in a cool sports car at the age of sixteen? This is not a matter at all for a top-secret agent who has been chasing cars and shootouts every day since he was ten years old in his previous life.

At the same time, the communication channel of the group of black suits did not stop for a second.

"Boss! The kid went over the wall to the neighborhood next to him, and we followed up! ”

"Excuse me, is this kid the college's track and field representative? Jumps faster than a rabbit! ”

"Wait, I saw him run into the garage, haha! The little imp who is panicked has only one exit below. ”

“......”

"Holy! That Cruz! That gray Cruz! That imp has a car! Stop him! ”

When the Odin gray Chevrolet Cruze rushed into the street like a gray lightning bolt, and the tires twisted around with a screeching grinding sound, the black suits who surrounded the place like a bucket realized that the little bunny they were about to catch was sitting in the driver's seat of the Cruz.

"What are you doing stupidly!?" The leader of the operation spoke, and a roar pierced the eardrum of each black suit through the headset in the form of electromagnetic waves, "Chase! Get him! ”

As a result, several black sports cars that seemed to randomly surround the perimeter of the old house started at the same time. They roared loudly through the slippery streets, biting the tail of the silver lightning and chasing after it.

The Cruze is not a top-of-the-line sports car, but in addition to the horses, the rider can play a vital role in the racetrack. The 1.6T turbocharged engine emits a dragon's horn in the hands of the grumpy rider, and the snowy water flies behind the high-speed tires. Like a wild horse, the sports car galloped over the slippery road at speeds of more than 130 yards, honking and screaming.

Driving without a license and outrageous speeding, even if you don't count the next series of behaviors such as driving in the opposite direction and ignoring red lights, if he is caught, he may not want to touch the car legally in his life. But now, Eric has no choice. He played wildly, but the pursuers were not the kind of people who cherished life. Several black sports cars clung to the Cruz's butt, and the lights piercing the rain were like devil's eyes.

They began to show their lethal weapons. Eric looked in the rearview mirror to see a man in a black suit leaning out of the car window, holding a silver-gray gun, a German-made MP5.

THE 9MM GUNS SPAT OUT A LONG LINE OF FIRE, AND PEOPLE BEGAN TO SCREAM, MAKING WAY FOR THIS FRANTIC CHASE. Eric shrank his head, and the mirror on the right side of his body crumbled into a mass of silvery slag. He cursed under his breath and slammed the steering wheel, drifting at a 45-degree angle into the block on the left.

He had already called the police when he drove out of the Cruz, and with the passion of this car chase, he was even less worried that he had attracted enough attention from the police. Now that he had fully verified his suspicion that the pursuers behind him were outlaws, the only way he could do it while unarmed was to hand over the madmen to the police.

He got as close as he could in the direction of the New York Police Department, hoping that the riot police would intervene as soon as possible to deal with the madmen.

But alas, he seems to have underestimated these people a little.

At a speed of more than one hundred and thirty yards, he took the time to glance at the only remaining rearview mirror. He saw that the roof of the black sports car that was furthest away from him was opened. A black suit stood up against the wind and rain, shook off the sunglasses that got in the way, and set up a black rifle.

The light sniper rifle M82A1LW, with an aluminum bipod resting on the pitch-black roof of the car, facing the raging wind, like a sharp eye staring at the Cruze driver.

At such a distance, on a sports car in overspeed, coupled with the unbridled wind and pouring rain, is that guy really sure to snipe?

Eric's pupils constricted, and an illusion rose in his heart.

That person is different from these miscellaneous fish!

He was able to hit!

"Bang!"

The guns rang out through the night, and the silver bullets tore through the rain curtain and hit the Cruze's left front wheel as accurately and horribly as calculated.

In an instant, Eric lost control of his car. More than 130 yards of speed, the machine lost its balance, the tires screamed in the rain with a screeching noise, and the whole car smashed the window of the streetside clothing display case to pieces.