I Am Extraordinary Alone
Chapter 340 - 338 141

Chapter 340: Chapter 338 141

Two crossed swords lay over a blue shield, with the number "141" appearing beneath the emblem.

The communication channel’s connection signal lit up, and a three-dimensional map appeared on the screen.

"Patch it through," the commander commanded.

"This is Price speaking," came a deep, husky male voice from the other end of the communication channel.

"Earlier today, a task force from the United Council lost contact in the slums on the north shore while they were apprehending Mokrev," the commander said.

"Black Sun," Price stated.

"Indeed. They suffered eight casualties, including one undercover agent who was captured alive and is currently being taken to a factory near Koacha in the Lower River District," the commander informed.

"Is it a neutralizer factory? What’s the mission?" Price asked.

"To rescue the undercover agent, capture Mokrev, and blow up the factory’s production equipment," the commander replied.

"I need more intel. If Mokrev is there and has been alerted, there will definitely be Superpower Special Forces nearby, and I won’t risk our people," Price said.

"Don’t worry, the United Council has already sent an operative to assist," the commander stated.

"One operative? From the Superpower Special Department? If so, there’s no need for us to be involved in the operation," Price inquired.

"He won’t intervene directly. Besides, the general wants to figure out who leaked the neutralizer before the United Council does," the commander explained.

"Understood. Ghost will interrogate to find out who Mokrev’s partner is. What’s the codename of the United Council operative? How do we make contact?" Price asked.

"His codename is Moby Dick, and he’ll be where he needs to be. You don’t need to worry about his safety; just take care of yourselves. The contact passphrase is ’141, 070,’" the commander detailed.

"Received," Price acknowledged.

"Good luck with the mission, gentlemen, I’ll see you tonight," said the commander.

The communication channel was cut off, all voice and graphic information was immediately destroyed, and then the screen went dark.

June 18, 2111, 11 p.m.

Heisai State, Gambia.

Lower River District, outskirts of Koacha, neutralizer factory.

Price pushed aside the tall weeds and protruded the barrel of his suppressed NV4 assault rifle a little ahead.

Only after confirming that the dried-up riverbed was unpatrolled did he slowly step out from the darkness and lifted the night vision goggles from his head.

"Clear," he whispered.

No sooner had he spoken than four others stepped out behind him.

One had a Mohawk and face painted with camouflage.

One wore a baseball cap and a full beard.

Another donned a skull mask and a full-head balaclava.

"It’s quiet," Ghost said.

"Too quiet," Soap agreed.

"We’re two minutes past 11, already behind schedule. We were supposed to reach the rendezvous point and meet with Moby Dick fifteen minutes ago," Price said.

"We don’t have his picture, only the passphrase; it’s risky," Gates commented.

"I used some contacts to do a bit of digging. This guy doesn’t exist in any system," Price revealed.

"Such high-level secrecy probably means he’s someone not to be trifled with," Ghost suggested.

"It doesn’t matter to us. We have only three mission objectives: capture Mokrev, destroy the factory, and rescue the undercover agent. Any other targets are cleared for lethal engagement," Price laid out.

"Swift, precise, violent," Ghost added.

"I can do all three things at once," Soap said.

The four of them jogged along the shadowy side of the river channel. It had been more than seventy years since global warming had taken its toll, and even the coastal Gambia had seen its rivers run dry.

This dried-up riverbed had been useless, but since Mokrev had set up his factory here, the wastewater produced in the process of manufacturing neutralizing agents had been discharged into it. Over time, the riverbed, which should have been cracked and dry, not only turned black but also became somewhat soggy.

On the banks, the Gambian government’s military had built many outposts to prevent spies, journalists, and domestic dissenters from investigating and sabotaging.

The lights from the sentry posts flickered through gaps in the forest foliage, and on the makeshift wooden dock, three black soldiers were smoking.

Price stopped, and the whole team crouched low in place.

"120 yards, I’ll take the left one," Price said.

Soap moved to the front of the team, took a knee, raised his M13 assault rifle, and said, "The one in the middle."

"The right one’s mine," Gates got ready with his KN44.

Ghost could only aim his gun to the rear and grumble, "Show-offs."

"3, 2..."

There was a crisp sound of gunfire, like balloons bursting. Bullets fired, hitting the three black soldiers in the forehead, blood and flesh splattered, hats flew out more than three meters away, and all three figures fell, two plunging off the dock into the riverbed and one lying at the edge of the dock.

The four immediately rushed over, reached the dock, and Ghost casually dragged the body from the dock down to join Gates and Soap, pulling all three bodies into the darkness beneath the dock.

They waited in place for a while, but no enemy reinforcements came.

"Clear, move on," Price said.

So they continued forward, wading through the muddy riverbed.

"Damn, this mud reeks of disgusting acid," Soap said.

"It’s not toxic, just foul-smelling. The production of the neutralizing agent discharges some waste water, which causes irreversible pollution to the land," Price explained.

"This stuff is in demand by many countries. Superforce teams are all drug-crazed maniacs, but where do the officials manufacture the neutralizing agents?" Gates asked.

"I advise you not to ask," Ghost said.

"Someone always pays the price," Price said.

Soap didn’t say anything, just cursed quietly and continued following at the end of the line.

The group killed the sentries along the way and stealthily made their way under a stone bridge. Ahead, the bright factory was now within reach.

At that moment, the sound of a truck engine came from the right.

The four hid in the bridge tunnel.

"Let them pass," Price said.

Seconds later, the truck drove over their heads, shaking loose pebbles and dirt clods.

"We have two minutes; we’re almost late," Price checked his watch.

They waited a bit for the truck to drive off before coming out of the tunnel and climbing the riverbank.

On the dry sticky slope of black mud was a large patch of rotten grassland, where the soil was completely polluted, and the black wastewater river slowly flowed into the channel.

"Why choose this wide-open space for the meeting point?" Price wondered.

"Where’s the person?" Soap asked.

"I don’t know, maybe somewhere around here," Price replied.

Ghost raised his DRH rifle and peered toward the factory using the three-times scope, then scanned the open area.

"Look over there," Ghost said.

The other three followed Ghost’s direction and saw, about fifty meters to their front left, a black goat.