Sniper Mask X Kuon นิยาย & เรื่องราว

His hand covered Luca’s head, shielding. “Stay down,” he hissed. “K–Kain—wh–what—” “Sniper,” Kain spat. His jaw clenched, voice sharp now, all business. “Fucking perfect timing.” Another gunshot rang out, people shouted, glass shattered. Luca crouched, heart banging against his ribs like it wanted out. All around them, the party crumbled. People in masks fled, blood streaked the floor, and yet, Kain didn’t flinch.

He pulled his secure comm pad from his wrist guard and punched in Freda’s emergency code. The Jimenez heir accepted the transmission immediately, logging a set of coordinates for a neutral lounge in the lower commercial district before severing the link. Ronan donned a heavy combat mask to conceal his rank and navigated his interceptor to the designated sector. Freda was already stationed in a secure booth, her frame wrapped in a soft, light-toned silk tunic, her hair pinned back with delicate silver combs that completely contradicted her usual combat profile.

Trevor and Lung Pakhun's combined forces were ready. There were 24 of them, plus Trevor, Lung Pakhun, and Tristan. At 3 a.m., they crossed the street to the target house, three at a time. They gathered at the back of the house, blocked by tall bushes. Everyone wore black and black cloth masks that covered their faces except for the eyes, nose, and mouth, like ninjas. The weapons they carried were silenced pistols, which should only be used in emergencies, and syringes filled with anesthetic.

Everyone on her squad wore a slightly different style for their specialty. For Aeon, as a Jack, her outfit consisted of her tank top, combat style pants that stretched easily, and her combat boots. Star, the fast moving sniper and information holder, she wore a tank top and pants as well, but used steel toed sneakers for their better mobility. She also had an unusual dark brown side pouch she used that was not part of standard ware. Chriso, the heavy hitter and muscle, wears a form fitting t-shirt, pants, and combat boots. J7, the scout and tracker, needs shorts for his running, a tank top, and steel toed sneakers.

I could hear it pumping hard against my chest like I just ran a thousand miles. Venar glared at me, his hand raising to touch my face. He felt the texture of the skunk mask and hatred began to emanate from his unscathed eye as he struggled to speak. “You..have been wearing a skin mask. You are so full of tricks.” I let out a dark chuckle as I looked down from his bloody face to where my dagger was deeply thrust. Smirking, I dragged the sharp blade through his lungs and ribs, feeling the warm rush of life slipping away.

They are known as the Crazy Bastard Squad. Panther, the top assassin in Asia, owns that squad. Intel says they have advanced technology and are not working with the Dragon Empire or EPUA. But Klaus wasn't happy with that little information; he wanted to know more about the woman in the squad. "Why are they wearing fancy masks?" "It indicates their names, sire. I heard that they trade their real names for animal names." "Except for the woman in the purple outfit?" he asked, looking at the video again to see how the woman tried to save Victor.

Kiera’s breath shattered. No — not shattered. Stopped. Ronan’s body snapped into a defensive stance so fast the air cracked. “Put the weapon down,” he growled. The masked figure didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink. Kai whispered, “That’s not a Hunter.” Ronan’s claws slid out, slicing the air with a soft metallic whisper. “Who sent you?” The figure tilted its head. Then spoke. Not aloud. Not in any voice that belonged in the world.

Kara pushed Andre further, picked the gun up and wiped the blood that tainted her torn lip. “Go ahead and call your fellow corrupt officers on us, ” Maria spat, “eres todo lo Mismo (you're all the same) you're all the same.” “No, we are not, ” Kara tossed the gun back to her, “I had to make it look convincing else they would have spotted it,” she picked a mug and tossed it at Maria, who dodged on seeing the mug travel through the air. “I’m taking, you believe us?” Andre asked.

The Armament testing range hummed with the sharp crack of gunfire, the air thick with the acrid scent of gunpowder and metal. Ronan stood at the firing line, ear protection muffling the world to a dull roar, safety goggles shielding his eyes from the flash and debris. His broad shoulders tensed under the black tactical vest, tattoos peeking from the collar as he sighted down the barrel of a sleek prototype assault rifle. The weapon was a beast, compact, lethal, designed for his company's black-market clients who demanded precision in chaos.

She breathed heavily as they both sweat heavily. Keisha grabbed his mask and pulled it out of his face, making him let go of the gun. He grabbed her hand and pulled it to make the mask cover his face. Her brows raised, realizing she can take this to her advantage. She leaned forward and bit his hand. "Fuck!" he screamed before his grip loosened on her hand but she let go of his mask.