The deserted airport is dilapidated and withered, and the sound of water leaking can be heard in the underground parking lot. Three big-shouldered, round-waisted Mexican gangsters paced around with old AKs around them. Outside, a broken table sits on the wet floor, and a shirtless chubby man in a leather jacket sits on a bench, biting on a cigarette and playing with a knife to relieve his boredom.

Behind him, four tattooed bodyguards squinted and smoked, and cigarette butts fell to the ground under their feet. They're waiting for someone.

"Boss." Suddenly, the smoking man's eyes lit up, and he bent down to remind him. The boss who was playing with the knife looked up, and two slender shadows cast at the entrance, and walked in with two suitcases in a hurry.

There were two people, a man and a woman, the difference was that the box in the man's hand was heavy and atmospheric, and the box carried by the woman was smooth and frivolous. The man was no more than twenty-five years old, with literary hair, decadent stubble, a sallow face, cheekbones so emaciated, a shirt like grease, and a coat like elephant skin, all of which were better worn by the vagabond, but who immediately disappeared into the crowd of Laredo. He walked straight, put his left hand in his pocket, and sat down opposite the boss without care.

"I thought you were the only one." The boss stared warily at the woman behind him, "I'm not used to having strangers around. Then he shut up and stopped talking, and an inexplicable pressure made everyone stare at the undesirable woman.

The woman also carried a suitcase, beautiful in silver and white, and trendy in style, just like her. She is the age of a college student, charming as if she has read countless people, her long black hair covers her right eye, her eyelashes are straight, her red lips are plump, she is wrapped in a tight leather vest, her brown hip skirt is tightly wrapped in black safety pants, and she has a dagger tied to her thighs.

The man followed the boss's gaze, looked back at the rebellious female companion, and said nonchalantly, "She didn't have a gun." I can't care about her irresponsibility.

"Don't mind, do you?" The Boss asked.

The literary man lay down in the chair with his hands down and shook his head.

The boss turned around and instructed the younger brother who was smoking: "Search."

The little brother who smoked hung the gun on his back, walked to the woman, began to touch it from under his armpit, and swam all the way down the snake with both hands, searching very slowly, not letting go of an inch of fabric. The woman was indifferent and let him feel full. And her literary male companion raised her eyebrows to appreciate it, but enjoyed it.

The body search saw that the beauty did not react, looked back at the boss, was inspired by the gaze, felt the heavy responsibility on his shoulders, bent down and touched the hip skirt, his heart fluttered, and he had to reach out inch by inch to check the safety pants underneath.

In a flash of lightning, the woman reached out and grabbed his wrist and twisted it, biting her lip and slamming her knee hard, almost pushing the man's nose back into the cranial cavity. Suddenly there was a loud shout, and her male companion suddenly got up and roared, "Stop! ”

The woman didn't stop, she was carrying the unlucky guy who was holding her face and bleeding, and the second knee hit one after another, and sent it to his crotch, and suddenly searched the little brother's bloody hands and didn't know where to cover, holding her crotch with both hands, bending down in pain, and when she opened her mouth and screamed, her nose was like a faucet, and a line of bright red was dripping down.

And the four AK brushes were aimed at her male companion, but in that "stop", the boss did not move, he looked up at the literary man with strange horse steps, raised his hands flat, and sat back slowly, because the boss had a pistol on his forehead.

The speed at which a literary man draws a gun is rare in the world. Before the boss could stand up, he was pushed back by his gun. As soon as he said "stop", the bald boss stopped, raised his hands in cold sweat under his gun, stared at his opponent, and listened to his subordinates being beaten.

Before the woman was finished, two knee strikes destroyed the two most important landmarks on the rogue boy's body, and then coldly twisted his arm and directly twisted the person to the ground. When the man fell to the ground, her long white legs had already locked his other arm, and she had her free right hand pressed against the victim's neck, holding a knife in her hand.

The dagger pinned to her thigh somehow turned into her hand, pointing straight at someone's artery.

"Forget it." The literary man said. He stared at the boss who didn't dare to move, and he didn't even look at the woman.

The dagger came to an abrupt halt in mid-air. The woman slapped the man on the ground, stood up, spun the dagger back into her belt, picked up the silver box and placed it on the table and opened it, full of green dollars.

The literary man turned his pistol, put away the gun nonchalantly, let the four AKs point at his head, sat back in the chair and said leisurely: "This is the deposit." After we left, the other seventy percent went back into the account. ”

The boss clenched his fists and pressed the table, frowning and emphasizing: "Because of your reputation, I took the risk of collecting your money." The plane is parked in the hangar, and there is enough fuel for you to fly to Siberia. Take your woman and get out. "Drop a key on the table.

The literary man stood up leisurely, put away the key, looked at the boss and nodded, and said with a presumptuous smile: "Be content, how many years do you have to sell blue ice to earn back this amount, and you can earn it with a broken plane." Picking up the suitcase and turning to leave, the two snake-like shadows were so matched.

The boss stretched out his hand and lifted the two wades of money to take a look, nodded, and closed the box with his gun on his back.

In the noise-canceling woods five hundred meters away from the airport, Alan stared at the surveillance screen and heard the headset report:

"Alpha ready."

"Beta ready."

"SWAT teams in place."

Alan picked up the walkie-talkie: "Action."

A police car cleared the way, smashed through the roller shutter, slid into the underground passageway, and headed straight for the underground parking lot, followed by the heavily armed Alpha Team with bulletproof shields. At the bend, the police car slows down. Richard held an AR16 camouflage assault rifle, half-crouched behind the shield, raised his hand to hook his fingers, and motioned to follow.

Outside the airport building, the beta team armed to the teeth rushed in, slammed their backs against the wall, one end of both hands, and the teammates who followed just stepped on the palms, this one struggled, that one jumped on the momentum, flew up out of thin air, reached out and climbed the four-meter-high window, smashed the glass and rolled in. And the comrades in the back stepped up one after another, the four strongest soldiers three times in a row, sent in twelve people, and finally these four people shook their sore arms and retreated four meters, ran and stepped on the wall, stretched out their arms in the window and dragged them in mid-air, even climbed and stepped on them, and dragged them up with all their might, and sixteen people flew into the second-floor building, it only took fifty-three seconds, almost as if they were walking on the ground. When the four soldiers entered the window, there was already a rain of gunfire in front of them, "cop!cops!" The screams, the intermittent firing, the screams, and the bumps of guns on the ground came one after another. By the time they entered the window, the striker had already killed four of the bandits and turned back to report: "clear."

The SWAT team to the west had already blown open the gates, rushing in and firing sporadically.

With the sound of gunshots, the underground parking lot suddenly exploded, and the guy who was beaten raised his head and covered his nose and shouted: "Frank!! There were police, we were discovered! ”

The bald boss Frank got up and calmly shouted, "Distribute weapons!"

The curtain of the communication room was lifted high, and the four big men picked up the AK assault rifles piled up on the table and threw them out, and the bandits outside caught the guns, picked up two grenades and rushed to support. Frank remained silent, picked up his suitcase and walked to the Humvee, calmly commanding the bearded man who followed closely behind: "Iverson, you drive the cheetah and rush to the front door, I'll go through the back door, and meet in the beer hall after rushing out."

The two parted ways directly.

When the literary man heard the gunshot, he stopped at the entrance of the passage and glanced at the girl: "Miss Qinyin, you can fly a plane, right?"

"Nonsense."

"If I die, leave me alone, break through the fire net, grab the box and rush into the hangar." He glanced up at the ceiling where the gunshots were constantly ringing, and said lightly: "On the way we entered the hangar, someone was exchanging fire."

Qin Yin ignored him and continued to walk forward, her back calm: "No one will die, Lord Messenger." You should be well aware of this. ”

She stood and waited for the messenger and looked back at him: "Isn't it a paradox to fight for eternal life and die in this place?"

The messenger walked up to him, shook his head and muttered, "You're so unemotional." Climb the stairs side by side with her, "It's useless to look good with a woman who has no emotion." ”

Qin Yin didn't react, he walked faster and faster, took the box in his hand with one hand, and reached out to pull out the gun on his waist.