Thug and Idol: 10X Rewards Second Identity System

The message came from one of Tristan's intelligence men.

He didn't stop driving when it came, effortlessly keeping the car on course with one hand for a minute, then throwing the phone in his pocket and scowling.

Tristan's people have caught several phone calls between Cuatro Angulos' mid-level leaders. Someone has tipped them off about Tristan's location, and now Angulos' forces were moving to intercept them.

Despite the death of the previous boss and the following fight for power among the others, they at least pretended to put a united front against Tristan's efforts.

It was much better than if there was a single leader. The lack of one caused delays that let Tristan's team escape without a fight the first time.

Now, though… Someone acted fast, not waiting for the confirmation from the top.

Tristan only needed to imagine the road atlas in front of his eyes to know that this time, the fight was inescapable.

Cuatro Angulos' forces were going to intercept them on the only traversable road out of this village. If Tristan tried to take one of the smaller roads, the rain would slow him down so much that other routes nearby would be blocked, too.

As Tristan was thinking about this, the first droplet of another rain fell on the windshield. His scowl deepened.

"Bad news, boss?" Kund asked from his seat next to him. He was the only one not dozing off.

"Close to the worst. We will see more fighting before we get through it."

In his head, Tristan was putting together another plan and a task.

[New task: cross the border to America. Value: 500+500 for each surviving subordinate.]

"We are going to break their encirclement while it's still thin," Tristan said. "Check your weapons one more time—you will need it in about three hours."

***

Three hours later.

The almost torrential rain ended an hour ago, leaving behind a fresh layer of deep puddles. The morning sun was too weak to dry them up.

The motorway was only four lines wide, and all four were blocked by two trucks standing across the road with a few smaller cars huddling near.

It was theoretically possible to drive past the road ditch and into the fields and move past the blockade this way. There was no fence, and the ditch was full of water, but not deep or wide. The fields, though, were muddy and risky to traverse, and a dozen of Angulos' thugs with automatic rifles were going to object.

There were no civilians around. Whoever met this blockade wisely turned another way.

Tristan saw this all long before his car entered the range of enemy weapons.

"Alright, people. There's really nothing more to it than doing it the direct and hard way. Keep your seatbelts on and give the cover fire. I'm gonna drive us out of this."

He braced himself. For a moment, he hesitated—maybe he should've switched places with someone and been shooting instead of driving. But no.

His car's engine revved when he pushed the vehicle to its limits. It was a good off-road car, but not bulletproof.

The distance to the roadblock diminished rapidly. Ahead of them, Angulos soldiers began shouting in alarm and readying their weapons. First bullets flew around the car.

"Motherfuckers!"

Kund opened the side window and shot back, hitting no one.

Tristan silently scanned the road. It wasn't perfectly flat here. Besides some muddy puddles that hid potholes of unknown depth, there were small changes in the incline. A miniature pseudo-ramps that made the car fly a little at this speed.

Tristan avoided them. But also…

'I can use them.'

His observation skill, paired with his driving skill, helped Tristan to chart a route.

The car has reached the distance at which bullets from both sides could almost hit the enemy. Decker joined Kund in shooting wildly at the Mexicans to keep them in cover; Mexicans shot back, but Tristan kept the car moving too erratically to hit it.

"BRACE YOURSELVES!" he shouted.

Then Tristan floored the gas.

Decker howled as a man who suddenly bit his own tongue. Kund swore.

The car sped up to its actual limit, and at this speed, Tristan turned it over a particularly large slide on the road.

At the same time, he rotated the wheel rapidly, sending the car into a sharp turn.

Lifted by the pseudo-ramp and its speed, the car flew off the road. Only for a moment, but all its four wheels stopped touching the ground, and Tristan's stomach went into his throat.

He clenched his teeth.

The car flew over the ditch, landing with its back wheels almost in it—but not quite. The thud shook the interior and people inside. Cutout groaned and let out an imaginative string of swearwords.

"What heeeeeeell!" Kund shouted. The next moment he re-aimed his rifle at the Angulos people and resumed shooting, grinning madly. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! Aha-ha-ha-ha!"

The gunshots and the roar of the engine created a cacophony of noise that was truly chaotic, yet full of vigor. Like grindcore music. It made Tristan want to write a song.

"We still aren't in the clear!" Tristan reminded sharply to himself and the others.

He kept driving forward over the fields, past the roadblock.

The place was pure treacherous ground, and a single wrong move could bury the car's wheels in dirt—but it was almost impossible to see under the grass where the dirt was a bog and where it was just soil.

Tristan switched his eyes to heat vision.

The grass turned from green to various shades of yellow and blue. But now the path was clear to him.

The blue patches were the wettest—water was cooling them. Tristan aimed the car at the yellower and drier ground.

It jounced on it like ice in a cocktail shaker, slowing a lot—but not stopping.

Several bullets went through its side. One went straight into the side-view mirror, but none hit people inside.

"We are getting them! We really are getting them! Getting away!" Decker shouted. "Shit, I'm empty. Reloading!"

"Doesn't matter!" Kund replied as their car was getting farther away. "We are almost there!"