Are You Crazy? You’re Telling Me This Is a Fugitive TV Show?

This group was a program inspection squad from the West Country.

“Continue the search. Leave no corner unchecked,” the Captain firmly instructed.

At this moment, his teammates, each wielding a flashlight, diligently searched the area. They had been conducting searches outside since morning.

By evening, feeling tired was expected. But in such a critical period, no one dared complain of fatigue.

Wang Yun and over seventy ‘fugitives’ were still at large. Capturing even one would significantly boost their country’s prestige. This wasn’t just about personal honor; they represented their entire nation.

Moreover, medical professor Vasda had previously failed during an incident when Wang Yun ‘bombed’ the tunnel. They needed to act swiftly to mitigate this loss.

***

“You take the person at eleven o’clock on your left; he’s isolated. Move quickly and with caution!”

“The target directly in front at seven o’clock; follow him, then strike as soon as he enters!”

At this time, seven members of the assassin organization began to slowly close in on their respective targets. They planned to eliminate the ordinary program inspectors first before targeting the elite inspectors last.

This operation had to succeed without detection, as any compromise could complicate subsequent actions significantly.

In the dimly lit stairwell between the sixth and seventh floors, the sound of a dagger piercing flesh suddenly echoed. Of course, this sound was mimicked by the assassin’s mouth, suggesting his prior profession might have been a ventriloquist.

“My blade is a dagger, and you’re ‘dead’,” whispered the assassin as he grabbed an ordinary program inspector from behind who was panting heavily.

The spring-loaded knife in his hand stabbed into the lower back of the inspector. It was a fatal strike.

The inspector’s eyes widened as he felt the sharp pain in his waist. He attempted to scream for help, but a hand clamped over his mouth was too firm. Not only could he not cry out, but he also struggled to breathe.

In a moment of despair, the program inspector helplessly nodded his head, acquiescing to his fate without even catching a glimpse of his killer. He compliantly laid down on the floor.

Even without the alarm on his shoulder sounding, he indeed ‘died’.

The second one.

Another assassin trailed a program inspector directly into a frozen warehouse.

The assassin couldn’t fathom why they were there. It was impossible to hide any person effectively, considering the temperature plummeted to minus fifty degrees. Within about ten minutes, anyone would lose consciousness.

This move by the program inspector made the task effortless for the assassin. With a sharp chop of his palm, the program inspector felt a powerful strike at the back of his neck.

As he turned around, he saw a program inspector from Japan making a throat-slashing gesture toward him.

“I’ve just knocked you out with that strike, and in this fifty degrees below zero, you’re ‘dead’,” the assassin said.

After speaking, the assassin sneered and cast a dismissive glance at him before walking away, ignoring him.

The program inspector, left alone, looked around at the stark environment and touched the spot on his neck where he had been hit. He shook his head helplessly. Indeed, he was killed.

The third, fourth, and fifth.

All were eliminated silently.

Suddenly, the area returned to deathly silence. This silence made the captain standing under the streetlamp uneasy. He felt that something was off. By the time he realized what was wrong, a terrifying chill ran through his body, breaking out in a cold sweat.

“Is Number Two here? Where have you searched? Number Three, respond. Number Four, Number Four! Where are you guys?” the Captain shouted into his walkie-talkie, his voice echoing in the quiet night.

He then looked around cautiously. The area was an old neighborhood, all the houses were about twenty years old.

He was under the only street light still stubbornly working in the vicinity. The rest of the surroundings were shrouded in darkness. No footsteps could be heard, and eerily, not even a dog barked. Panic set in for the captain.

The walkie-talkie, which had been consistently buzzing with radio waves, fell eerily silent.

“They’re all watching you from above. Don’t hurry, you’re next,” a voice taunted from the darkness.

Just then, an assassin leaped from the second floor directly above him, gun in hand.

A shot rang out, striking the street light pole, and emitting a piercing sound.

The captain was shocked, his eyes wide open in disbelief, but he reacted quickly. He dodged and sprinted toward a distant part of the community.

“Catch him! The last one, finish him off,” one of the assassins growled, his voice low and menacing.

As soon as the words fell, six figures emerged instantaneously from all directions.

The captain quickly glanced around, and under the dim light, he instantly recognized the faces of these people.

“Japan? Why are people from Japanese team here? Impossible!”

The Captain immediately dismissed the thought and dashed into an old building. As he ran, he pulled out his cell phone. He moved with the swift efficiency befitting an elite member whose physical fitness and reactions far surpassed those of ordinary inspectors.

“Have any of you from Japan been near Spring Garden today?” the captain bellowed into the phone.

The captain of the Japanese team, though confused, denied it.,”No, we haven’t.”

“Okay, got it,” the captain responded and hung up the phone.

It must be Wang Yun’s men wearing human skin masks resembling those from Japan.

“Captain Marina! I’ve been ambushed by Wang Yun’s men. I need backup,” he shouted into his radio. “Track my phone,”

His thoughts were clear.

“What? Wang Yun’s people! Coming right away. Five minutes, no, make it three,” came a response.

“We have people nearby. Hold on. If necessary, take out that thing for self-defense,” an anxious voice crackled through the radio.

The captain did not respond because he was rapidly approaching the seventh floor. His only hope was that the door to the rooftop was left open.

There it was. His chance for escape. The rooftop door was indeed open, propped with a piece of wood, likely left by a neighbor who wanted easy access to dry clothes.

The captain sprinted up, swung around at the top of the stairs, and in one swift motion he scattered a handful of powder behind him as he slammed the door shut.

It was a close call. The assassins arrived two seconds later, only to find the door firmly locked.

“Go to the next building. The rooftops are connected,” one of them shouted.

“Cough, cough! My head is spinning…”

As everyone turned to run, they suddenly inhaled a strange powder through their nostrils. Within seconds, their legs weakened, and their consciousness began to blur.

“Damn it, hold your breath!”

Those running at the back were slightly better off, but the two assassins in front were already staggering.

“Retreat now.”

At that moment, Wang Yun’s voice echoed in their ears. He had been monitoring the assassins’ movements all along. Each assassin wore a recorder, capturing everything from start to finish. Meanwhile, Wang Yun sat comfortably in his villa, sipping red wine and enjoying the scene unfold.

In his livestream, viewers watching the computer screen were already dumbfounded.

Matryoshka. A Matryoshka livestream!

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