North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws-Chapter 533 - 311_1
Not long after the five men and one woman, suspected of being mercenaries, entered the security room, a jarring alarm blared from that direction.
When the sound erupted, Dean noticed the first group of people who had boarded all flinched simultaneously. He suddenly realized. Someone must have broken the rules.
On deck, several sailors, standing stiff as wooden posts, and a tall, skeletal-masked armed man charged forward. Furious shouts and the sounds of impact followed.
The next moment, the chaotic noise ceased, replaced by screams and wails of agony. In less than ten seconds, all movement from that direction stopped.
Dean's heart tightened. He didn't know if the woman had also been dealt with.
TAP, TAP, TAP.
The heavy thud of boots approached. Everyone on deck instinctively looked in that direction.
They saw several masked sailors, each casually carrying a person weighing a good one to two hundred pounds with one hand. They half-dragged, half-pulled them like dead dogs and threw them down where the group of players stood. There were four men and one woman in total.
Their eyes were shut tight, and they looked as if they had fainted. The sailors, apart from some wrinkled clothes, were unscathed.
Clearly, these mercenaries had tried to resist but had failed to cause even a ripple before being swiftly subdued.
Unarmed, the two sides were simply not in the same league.
After dropping off the five people, the sailors returned to their posts. They stood as still as posts again, unmoved by the rocking of the cruise ship—mechanical and eerie.
After another moment's wait, the skeletal-masked armed man seen earlier appeared on deck, carrying a still-convulsing man. The woman in the mask from the security room also came out.
She first glanced at the crowd of players, winked at Dean, then signaled the skeletal-masked man to drop the man he was carrying on his shoulder.
The woman in the mask clapped her hands, signaling everyone to look her way. Once all the players' attention was fixed on her, she said coldly, "Rip open his stomach!"
The skeletal-masked man, without a word, crouched, lifted the shirt of the half-dead man on the deck, and placed two thick forefingers—one from each hand—above the man's navel.
Just as everyone watched, both frightened and curious about what he was going to do, the next moment unfolded. The crowd witnessed a sight they would never forget: the skeletal-masked man's hands tore downwards. The victim's tough abdominal muscles and skin slowly split open, eventually bursting and splattering tomato sauce.
Agonizing pain shot through him. The man on the deck, who had fainted, opened his eyes in confusion.
He struggled to lift his head, puzzled as to why this person's hands were inside his abdominal cavity.
The pain was beyond any threshold. Hormones secreted by his body's self-preservation instincts made him feel as if he were watching an immersive movie, strangely detached from the severe pain.
As the man watched in a daze, RRRIP! His abdominal cavity was completely torn to shreds by the skeletal-masked man, its contents spilling and draping over the cold deck.
Uncovered by skin and flesh, his steaming viscera lay starkly exposed to the crowd, squirming and pulsing. It was a true nightmare, the kind of horrific impact that seared itself into memory, unforgettable even with eyes closed.
The rule-breaker finally realized what was happening. His eyes were wide with terror, his expression contorted. Mournful screams tore from his throat as his strong hands weakly slapped at the masked man crouched before him, trying to drive him away. But all it achieved was to spray the blood gushing from his chest more evenly over the masked man.
In front of everyone, this mechanical, doll-like monster tore open the rule-breaker's chest with his bare hands and pulled out something resembling a water bag.
It was the man's stomach!
POP.
A small, round ball wrapped in a thick, white substance bounced out from it. The woman in the mask squatted, picked up the small ball, her visible eyes curving into crescents as she smiled. "Hehe, caught a little mouse."
Steaming hot blood pooled at her feet. The rule-breaker, his chest torn open, was reduced to instinctive twitches. His bulging eyes stared blankly at the pitch-black sky until, finally, they lost all color...
...
"AAAAH!"
The terrified crowd finally snapped back to reality, unleashing the most horrified screams of their lives.
Some burst into tears; others wet themselves in fear.
Many more simply became like ostriches, crouching on the ground with their heads in their hands, trembling, devoid of even the thought to resist.
Of course, these were all members of the third group to board. Whether sports enthusiasts or sheltered gamers, they had never witnessed such a scene in real life. It was a testament to their mental fortitude that they weren't scared completely senseless.
Now they finally believed what the first group of players had implied. This game could actually kill you!
Unfortunately, there was no walking away now.
At the masked woman's command, the body was thrown into the sea, disappearing beneath the waves while several sailors fetched tools to wash down the deck.
Just over a minute later, aside from a faint lingering smell of blood, the deck was clean once more.
The woman in the mask, toying with the small ball in her hand, surveyed the groups of players who had boarded.
The first group to board had apparently performed well. However, it wasn't bravery on their part. Rather, having already witnessed three of their companions being shot, they had turned into ostriches this time. They hadn't dared to look towards that part of the deck, thus avoiding the full impact of the bloody scene.
