paranoianovel Chapter 96 Tearing Open the Wounds Deep in the Soul
Chapter 96 Tearing Open the Wounds Deep in the Soul
Just as Lin Feng sat cross-legged, Vassim also carried a cushion and sat on the balcony.
One leg is straight, the other leg is bent, and the arm is placed on the knee.
He leaned against the wall, his head tilted back slightly, his eyes gazing blankly at the darkness outside the window.
Soon, that wound, hidden deep in the soul, which had been tried to be buried but never truly healed, was violently ripped open again...
Three years ago, Karachi.
The terrorist leader, codenamed "Black Serpent," committed numerous bloody crimes and was the number one target on the Joint Operations Command's list.
Wasim, as a core detective under the command, has been tracking him for more than half a year, under tremendous pressure from his superiors and the public.
The intelligence indicated that "Black Snake" was hiding in an abandoned textile factory in the suburbs.
In the pre-operation briefing, the superior's instructions were cold and clear:
"The primary target is extremely dangerous and has an antisocial personality; they must be eliminated before they pose any threat."
The raid began at four in the morning.
Wasim led his commando team to infiltrate the factory area.
The firefight broke out instantly, with gunshots echoing through the empty factory.
Based on his experience, Wasim quickly pinpointed the location of a second-floor window that was continuously spewing flames—it was the "Black Serpent"!
He took cover, raised his gun, aimed, and pulled the trigger!
A sharp gunshot rang out, and the arrogant figure shooting from the window suddenly froze, falling backward.
A boy of about eight or nine years old rushed out from behind where "Black Snake" had fallen, crying and throwing himself on top of "Black Snake," shaking his body violently.
"Dad! Dad! Wake up!"
Wasim and several teammates quickly rushed up to the second floor to clear the area.
"Get down! Hands over your head! Get away from the bodies!" Wasim's gun was firmly pointed at the corner where the father and son were.
Immersed in immense grief and fear, perhaps frightened by the police's reprimands, or perhaps seeing the Desert Eagle lying on the ground beside his father, the boy conceived a childish, foolish, and deadly idea—to avenge his father.
Under the watchful eyes of Wasim and the other team members, the skinny boy suddenly stopped crying, reached out and grabbed the Desert Eagle, which was thicker than his arm, and tried with all his might to lift it up.
The gun barrel swayed, vaguely pointing in Wasim's direction!
"threaten!"
The word instantly took over Wasim's mind like a conditioned reflex.
In a highly tense combat environment, when faced with someone who has picked up a weapon, regardless of their age, the time to judge their intentions is almost zero.
Muscle memory developed through training overrides all rational thinking.
"Bang!"
Wasim's gun fired again.
This shot was decisive, precise, and without hesitation.
The bullet struck the boy directly between the eyebrows.
The little boy's body fell backward like a kite with a broken string, landing heavily next to his father's body.
The Desert Eagle in his hand fell to the ground with a clatter.
Blood and brain matter quickly spread from the back of his head.
He glanced at Wasim one last time, the light in his large eyes quickly fading.
The world fell silent in Vassim's perception.
He stood there, his arm holding the gun stiffly raised.
He watched helplessly as that little life vanished before his eyes, and the one who took that life was the very bullet he himself had fired.
He shot and killed a child.
A child who has just lost his father and makes a wrong move under extreme fear and grief.
A child who may not know how to properly use a Desert Eagle, but simply instinctively grabs the "weapon" next to him.
Later, the report stated: "Family members of the terrorists who resisted fiercely were killed in accordance with the law while armed during the operation."
Procedurally, he was flawless.
Logically and emotionally, he gained the understanding of his colleagues.
"In that situation, you have no choice."
"He'll be fine as long as he doesn't pick up the gun."
But only Wasim himself knew how clumsy and slow the boy's movement was in raising the gun. He could have had time to try non-lethal methods, or to warn him again... but he didn't.
He tipped the scales toward the worst possible outcome, personally closing all doors to survival.
"I killed a child... a child who was trying to protect his father..."
"His eyes were filled with fear when he picked up the gun..."
"I could have... I could have..."
"My hands... are stained with the blood they should never have touched..."
He dreamed countless times of the boy's last gaze, of the small, thin figure clumsily raising the Desert Eagle.
This sense of guilt, like a persistent boil, tormented him day and night.
At this moment, the seal was completely torn open, and the negative emotions that had been suppressed for years, mixed with extreme regret, physiological disgust at his own cold-blooded reaction, and immense guilt for the innocent life that had been lost, surged within him like a volcanic eruption.
"Uh... Ah...!"
Wasim's body trembled violently, and a painful whimper, as if he were suffocating, escaped his throat.
........................
Evelyn stood in front of the sink, repeatedly rinsing her hands with cold water, and then vigorously splashing water on her cheeks.
Then, she lifted her wet face, looked directly into the familiar yet unfamiliar eyes in the mirror, and let her consciousness resolutely plunge into the deepest recesses of her soul, into that darkest forbidden zone—
That place holds the secret of her transformation, the whole truth about how a female student with ideals was molded into the cold, hard shell she is today.
The scene flashes back to her final phase at the MI6 training base.
Her direct instructor, Major Richard Sean, known for his strict methods and outstanding achievements, kept her behind alone after an intense anti-interrogation training session.
Only the two of them remained in the training room.
Sean paced around her, his gaze sweeping over her like a scalpel.
"Evelyn," his voice was deep and carried an undeniable authority, "you have great potential, exceptional skills, and a cool head."
"However, you have one major weakness, or rather, an untapped arsenal."
Evelyn stood ramrod straight, her eyes fixed straight ahead: "Please enlighten me, sir."
Sean stopped in front of her, so close that she could smell his cologne.
"You're too reserved, too... 'clean'."
"The real world of espionage is dirty and full of all sorts of despicable methods."
"And you, as a beautiful woman, possess an innate weapon that men cannot match—your body, your gender."
Evelyn's heart sank, and a sense of foreboding gripped her.
"Tonight's extra training," Sean said calmly, "is to learn how to 'use' this weapon."
"And how to deal with what happens when you lose control of it."
He reached out, not to attack, but with an assessing intent, and stroked her cheek...