RBCT Chapter 62 The Loneliest Bridge in the World
Chapter 62 The Loneliest Bridge in the World
The communication channel fell silent.
Vigo's pupils dilated sharply, and he abruptly stood up, as fear engulfed him like an avalanche.
He issued the wisest, yet most irreversible, order of his life:
"retreat!"
Vigo rides in a heavy-duty black Chevrolet SUV equipped with bulletproof armor that can withstand 7.62mm bullets and can reach 100km/h in about 6.7 seconds—it's practically the standard ride for a gangster boss!
He got into the passenger seat, quickly fastened his seatbelt, and as the driver stepped on the gas, the Chevrolet launched, gliding from the street onto the highway. The four-cylinder turbo roared like a beast, and the speed rapidly increased.
The view outside the window flashed by like fleeting light, and Vigo felt much more at ease. Only then did he realize that his back was already soaked with cold sweat.
He couldn't help but wonder how an unknown kid who had just arrived in New York could give him such a strong sense of pressure!
He recalled what his assistant had said:
"Jack Wizla... he's practically Superman!"
Could it be... really?
Vigo took a deep breath and took out a tissue to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead.
How could that be? At most, he'd be a "second Nightmare." Superman or anything like that? What a joke! This is a materialistic world!
But after repeated encounters, he also gained a general understanding of John and Jack, realizing that they were an overpowered duo of death gods that he couldn't defeat even with all his efforts.
He wasn't a fool like Joseph. Although he could be blinded at times, Mr. Vigo was perfectly clear-headed at the moment, recognizing his own inadequacy and preparing to flee!
"It seems I have no choice but to leave New York..."
As soon as he finished speaking, rain began to fall in Brooklyn, as if bidding farewell to Mr. Vigo. The rain intensified, and the sky opened its floodgates, unleashing millions of raindrops like an endless barrage of 9mm bullets that furiously sprayed the Chevrolet, making a crackling sound.
Suddenly, an extremely unusual knocking sound rang out, like... someone was slapping the car window.
But that was impossible. Vigo glanced at the dashboard: 81 km/h, which was equivalent to 22.5 m/s. Was someone knocking on his car window at a speed of 22 meters per second?
Is he superman?
However, the next second, Vigo was instantly stunned.
Because when he looked out the car window, a handprint was clearly imprinted on it!
He blinked in disbelief, but the handprint not only didn't disappear, it became even clearer!
Because this damn handprint shattered a layer of bulletproof glass and left its mark on it!
Then he saw a dark shadow flash by, and immediately the Chevrolet began to skid rapidly to the side as if it had been hit by a wild beast!
The assistant struggled to keep the steering wheel steady, slamming on the brakes, rain splashing everywhere! The tires screeched!
The Chevrolet crashed into a road sign that read "Under Repair, Road Closed" and slammed sideways into a concrete pillar!
The passenger in the driver's seat had his head flattened by the sharp edges of a stone pillar, and his tempting brains were sprinkled with sesame paste powder, turning them into a rare and delicious dessert.
But clearly, Mr. Vigo had no interest in savoring this perfectly natural dessert.
He endured the discomfort from the violent impact, loosened his belt, pushed open the door, and as soon as his feet touched the ground, his knees buckled and he knelt down!
Vigo knew there was no time for him to wail anymore, because it seemed there really was a damn Superman chasing after him!
The torrential rain poured down his elbows, but he endured the pain that felt like his kneecaps were broken and stood up.
Before me stands a massive suspension bridge, suspended by thousands of steel cables, between Brooklyn and Manhattan, with the black East River churning beneath it.
Legend has it that gangsters like to stuff traitors into sacks and sink them into Donghe Bay on cold nights, especially those who walk like penguins.
Under the torrential rain, the Brooklyn Bridge looked like a steel behemoth arrogantly looking down on Vigo. The sudden white light that flashed before the thunder made the behemoth appear exceptionally cold and austere!
He gritted his teeth and charged from the bridge onto the sidewalk above the center of the roadway.
Because his remaining rationality told him that the damned, inhuman, ghostly guy was probably just playing tricks on him while riding a motorcycle.
If you were to race him on the wide bridge road, you would undoubtedly lose; the only way to survive is on the sidewalk!
Although Vigo didn't see a single trace of the motorcycle, he remained convinced of it, because it was his only chance of survival.
He had to run across the 1834-meter Brooklyn Bridge to Manhattan, and then run about 2 kilometers toward Wall Street to reach the Continental Hotel.
Hotels in mainland China have a no-killing policy, and anyone who breaks the rules will be wanted globally.
Vigo thought that he had launched a full-scale attack this time, which was why he dared to lead the army in person, but now he estimated that the entire army had been wiped out.
The bridge was deserted; the only sounds in the damp, cold air were Vigo's heavy breathing, the echo of his leather shoes on the steel plates, and the relentless pounding of the rain.
The world fell into an eerie silence, with the bridge lights off for maintenance, the only light source coming from the LED lights of Brooklyn and Manhattan at either end of the bridge.
The rain was so thick and heavy that visibility was extremely low!
Vigo felt like he had stepped into a true "dark place," with no lights, no outsiders, and no communication devices to connect with the outside world; all that remained was the incessant downpour and the silent Brooklyn Bridge.
This is undoubtedly the intersection of New York's loneliest places and its loneliest moments.
The world's financial and economic center, Wall Street, is just a few kilometers away.
The neon signs and large screens in the neighborhood are always bright, whether it's night or day;
Thousands of skyscrapers stand side by side, creating a dazzling spectacle like a galaxy.
Young boys and girls from all over the world hold up cameras and laugh as they record the comings and goings of people in Times Square.
But at this moment, the Brooklyn Bridge looks like a discarded toy, with even its lighting components removed, instantly transforming from a bustling world center into the world's loneliest bridge.
If you were to walk onto the bridge right now, you would only be standing guard over the lonely Brooklyn Bridge, getting soaked in the cold rain, gazing at the revelry and endless prosperity of others from afar.
Vigo felt it was a strange illusion; you were clearly in the heart of a bustling world, but deep down you knew you didn't belong there…
He had run nearly halfway across the bridge when the Gothic twin towers, cast from granite and limestone, came into view.
Was everything just a hallucination caused by excessive panic, and the rollover was simply an accident caused by the vehicle skidding?
In the midst of his thoughts, a deafening roar erupted, and the thick steel plate was instantly bent. Thunder struck, and the sky and earth suddenly turned white. A tall, dark figure landed four or five meters in front of Vigo, his tattered black trench coat fluttering like a battle flag that had been through countless battles in the interplay of cold wind and torrential rain!
Titus slowly turned around and looked at Vigo. He took off his heavy, coffin-like cello case and placed it beside him. With a soft click, the cello case was opened.
Under Vigo's horrified gaze, Titus dragged his power axe, slowly making a 'clattering' sound as he slid across the steel plate towards him.
Titus raised his power axe high, and the blade, along with the rain of rain and predetermined fate, fell heavily...