INFINITE MONEY - I Will Buy Everything

Chapter 221 - 221 - Ground Problems [ Part 2 ]

"Is that a f*cking bazooka?" Carl exclaimed, his eyes wide with disbelief as he peered through the rear window of the car at the three ominous vans tailing them.

The vans were filled with men, their faces cold and determined, peering out from the open side doors, weapons at the ready. They knew that their standard firearms wouldn't put much of a dent in the fortified vehicle ahead.

One of them sneered and said, "Time to bring out the big gun." The others exchanged grim nods, and the three vans spread out, with the middle one accelerating slightly ahead of the others.

The side door of the middle van slid open with a metallic clank, revealing two men struggling to hoist a massive hunk of metal—a bazooka.

One man took aim, while the other steadied the weapon, ensuring it didn't topple off the speeding van.

Carl and the others noticed the deadly threat, tension etched on their faces. Carl yelled at the driver, "Can the car handle that kind of firepower?"

"Will we be okay? It wouldn't blow up because of that thing now, would it?"

He waited anxiously, but the driver's silence only deepened his dread. Growing impatient, Carl shouted again, "HEY! MAN! I'm asking you a f*cking question!"

"…"

"… Maybe."

"Maybe? What do you mean, maybe? I need a definitive answer!"

"Tell me if the car will be safe against that or not!"

"I can't give you one. We've never tested the car against something this heavy. My best guess is to hold on tight." The driver said as he quickly locked on to his seat belt.

"…"

"HOLD ON! What the fuc—" Carl began, but Adam interjected sharply, "Shut up. The guy doesn't know what's going to happen, and it's not his fault we're in this mess. Stop taking it out on him."

The driver, hearing Adam's words, felt a sudden shift in allegiance from Carl to Adam. In moments of crisis, the friend who understands is the one you need. Not that his opinion would change their fate.

He would be forgotten in almost the next one or two chapters.

"So, what's the plan now?" Carl asked, his voice tinged with frustration. "We should have been better prepared for this."

"We were warned," Adam reminded him coolly. "The kid told us they'd try to kill us. And quit griping. I bet you're getting paid more than anyone else for this job. Stop acting like you are dealing more than what you are paid for."

"No amount of money is worth dying for," Carl declared self-righteously—a sentiment he'd likely discard in the very next moment.

"Then why not hand over your job to someone who actually values it?" Adam retorted and immediately to Carl's fear someone spoke up.

The driver immediately volunteered, "I'll take it. Of course that is if Carl would actually retire for real."

"…" Carl fell into sullen silence.

Meanwhile, in the middle van, the men who had stabilized the bazooka called over another comrade. He scanned the target and nodded, giving them the green light.

The man aiming the bazooka took one final, steadying breath before pulling the trigger as the rocket was released from its metallic cage.

As the rocket propelled towards them, Carl's eyes widened in sheer terror. "INCOMING!" he bellowed, and everyone in the car instinctively ducked.

The missile would have narrowly missed its target, but the bazooka's advanced AI aiming system ensured a direct hit, striking the rear of the car with precision.

BOOM

A thunderous explosion rocked the area, shrouding everything in thick, choking smoke. Onlookers, initially curious, were either blown back by the blast or fled the scene in a frenzy.

Chaos ensued as people screamed and stumbled through the dense, ashen fog that obscured everything from view.

The five vans that had been encircling the black car screeched to a halt. The gang members strained their eyes, peering through the billowing smoke, desperate to see if there were any survivors.

"Are they dead?" One of the gang members asked.

"They better be. That bazooka was expensive as hell, and it packs a hell of a punch."

"Just goes to show, doesn't matter how rich you are. Make the wrong enemies, and you'll die like a dog in the street."

His cynical remark drew laughter from the others in the van as they reveled in what they assumed was the demise of someone wealthier than they could ever dream of being.

If only they knew.

One of the men, still chuckling, glanced back at the smoke. His laughter abruptly ceased as he said, "I think there's a problem."

The others followed his gaze, and as the smoke began to dissipate, they saw something that made their blood run cold.

The black car was completely intact, not a single scratch marring its sleek surface. Surrounding it was a shimmering blue aura—a complex web of interlocking shields.

The gang members eyes widened in disbelief. "A Mana Blast Shield! Im—Impossible."

"Only the ultra-rich can afford something like that."

"We weren't told the car had that kind of defense. If we'd known, we would've brought heavier artillery."

"Complaining won't do us any good now. Reload the bazooka. We're going to blast those bastards until they're nothing but smoldering wreckage," the leader commanded.

They scrambled to reload the weapon, but inside the car, Adam and the others were still shaking off the disorientation from the explosion's shockwave.

Adam, who had been closest to the blast, groaned in pain before snapping, "Is this enough justification for using SELF-DEFENSE MEASURES?"

The driver nodded grimly, just as Carl noticed something even more alarming. "Guys… there are five bazookas aimed at us right now."

All eyes turned to the vans, where each one had a bazooka locked and loaded, aimed directly at them. "Shouldn't we be doing something about that?" Carl asked, his voice edging on panic.

"I'm on it," the driver replied, his voice steely, as he punched several buttons. The car began to shudder violently, as if gearing up for something big.

Seeing the car's sudden, erratic movements, the gang leader shouted, "FIRE! Now, before they run away from us!"

All five bazookas launched their rockets simultaneously, streaking through the air toward the car.

But the car's defense systems responded with mechanical precision. Miniature submachine guns emerged from both the front and rear of the vehicle and unleashed a torrent of bullets.

BANG! BOOM!

BANG! BOOM!

BANG! BOOM!

Each rocket was intercepted mid-air, exploding harmlessly before it could reach its target.

The gang leader's face contorted with rage. "RELOAD! Quickly, before they start firing at us!"

But it was too late. The car's AI-guided guns had already locked onto the five vans and opened fire with ruthless efficiency.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The bullets ripped through the vans, their flimsy exteriors offering little resistance. Most of the gang members were struck down instantly, their bodies slumping lifelessly.

The few who survived fared no better. Stray bullets pierced the vans' batteries, and one by one, the vehicles erupted in fiery explosions, incinerating the last of the gang members.

The driver smirked as he watched the vans burn, the flames reflected in his eyes. "Now, let's get you guys home."