63: Chapter 63 Only the Dead Don't Need Oxygen

The windshield wipers sliced through the curtain of water, only for it to instantly close back in.

This stolen Ford Taurus was parked in the shadows of Wisconsin Avenue.

This was a high point in Georgetown; through the curtain of rain, one could see the university tower with its two-hundred-year history.

The bells had just struck eleven, a dull sound like a funeral knell.

Inside the car, there was only the sound of breathing and the rain.

Jessica Vance sat in the back seat, the grip of the glock 19 in her hand already slick with sweat.

She stared at the students outside the car window, running by in a hurry with umbrellas and books in their arms.

They were young, full of life, and still complaining about this damn weather, completely unaware that the gates of hell had already cracked open.

"That black Chevrolet Suburban has passed the school gate for the third time."

Old George sat in the passenger seat, chewing on a piece of gum that had long since lost its flavor, holding binoculars. "The license plate is fake, the chassis is riding very low, and it's loaded with quite a lot of cargo."

"If that's C4, that amount is enough to send half of the Biology Department building to heaven." Chen Mo sat in the driver's seat, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the steering wheel.

Jessica leaned forward abruptly, her hands gripping the back of the front seat.

"We have to call the police." Her voice was trembling, not from the cold. "Or cause some kind of chaos, pull the fire alarm, anything at all. There are thousands of people there, plus that affiliated hospital..."

"Sit back." Chen Mo didn't even turn his head, his tone as flat as if he were discussing what to have for dinner.

"Chen! Didn't you see that car? That is..."

"That is an Ouroboros cleanup crew." Chen Mo interrupted her.

"If you pull the fire alarm now, or even just fire a single shot in that direction, the people in that car will immediately detonate the device and then use heavy machine guns to strafe everyone running out of the building.

They will count this as part of the terrorist attack, and they might even pin this on you.

Want to see tomorrow's headline? 'Former FBI Agent Takes Revenge on Society, Campus Flows with Blood'."

Jessica froze, a gurgling sound escaping her throat—the sound of choked-off rage and despair.

"But... we're just going to stand here and watch?"

"We are waiting here." Chen Mo pulled a pack of cigarettes from his coat, pulled one out, didn't light it, and just held it to his nose to sniff the tobacco.

"Dr. Hoffman isn't dead yet. As long as he's still alive, this play hasn't reached its climax."

"How do you know he isn't dead?"

"Because that car is still circling." Chen Mo pointed into the distance.

"They are waiting for a signal. Waiting for an inside man to cut the security system, or for Hoffman to get that damn data organized. Ouroboros doesn't keep idlers; they want the data, not just the corpses."

Jessica slumped back against the seat, the gun in her hand suddenly feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds.

"You really are a bastard." She cursed under her breath. "You clearly have the ability to stop all of this."

"I am not Batman, Ms. Wayne." Chen Mo glanced at her through the rearview mirror, his eyes as cold as the rain outside the window.

"Batman caught the Joker and sent him to an asylum, and the Joker escaped and killed even more people. I only handle the cleanup, and incidentally, turn the corpse-makers into corpses themselves. That is the most efficient form of environmental protection."

George suddenly spat out his gum.

"Who is that?"

Chen Mo followed George's gaze.

At the side door of the Biology Department building, a middle-aged man in a gray trench coat with a bald head stumbled out.

He was clutching a silver briefcase tightly to his chest, his face full of terror, as if he had just crawled back from the gates of hell.

He didn't have an umbrella, and the rain instantly plastered his few sparse hairs against his scalp.

"That's Hoffman." Chen Mo's pupils constricted. "It seems our doctor is smarter than I imagined; he wants to run away with the chips."

The black Chevrolet at the end of the street suddenly accelerated.

The roar of the engine drowned out the sound of the rain, and the water kicked up by the tires splashed half a person's height.

"They're making their move." George reached for the M1911 in his coat.

"Don't." Chen Mo pressed down on George's hand. "Look there."

Hoffman hadn't even run twenty meters when two people in black raincoats emerged from the greenery.

Their movements were uniform, holding submachine guns with silencers.

Puff, puff.

Even through the curtain of rain and the car window, that low sound of gunfire was still clearly audible.

Hoffman's knees were smashed as if by an invisible hammer, and he collapsed into a puddle.

He was still struggling, trying to crawl toward the briefcase that had fallen a few meters away.

One of the black-raincoated figures walked over, stepped on Hoffman's hand, and pressed the muzzle of his gun against the back of his head.

Jessica closed her eyes.

There was no gunshot.

The two men hoisted Hoffman up, picked up the briefcase, and quickly shoved him into an ambulance that had just pulled up to the curb.

The ambulance's emergency lights were not on, and the side of the vehicle was printed with the words "Georgetown University Affiliated Hospital".

"They didn't kill him?" Jessica opened her eyes, somewhat disbelieving.

"A living doctor is more useful than a dead one." Chen Mo started the car, the engine emitting a low roar.

"This means what's in Hoffman's brain is more important than what's in that box. Those greedy idiots, they want to keep it all for themselves."

"Should we follow them?" George asked.

"No." Chen Mo shifted the car into reverse and spun the steering wheel hard. "We're going to the laboratory."

"What?" Jessica's eyes widened. "He's already been taken!"

"The ones who took Hoffman are the cleanup crew; the ones responsible for the aftermath are a different group."

Chen Mo watched as the black Chevrolet didn't leave, but instead drove straight through the fence of the Biology Department building and into the atrium.

"If they don't pin the blame on someone, how will they explain Hoffman's disappearance to the public? Just wait and see; this is the real fireworks."

"Then what are we going there for?"

"To get some fresh air." Chen Mo tossed a gas mask to Jessica; it was a military-grade M50, the plastic film still on the visor.

"Only the dead don't need oxygen. Put it on, unless you want to cough up your lungs."