For a couple of minutes, there was nothing but complete silence. The sound of gunfire had ceased, Uche's crazed screams as he shot at them were gone, and the desperate cries of the officers had faded. Now, only the heavy, rapid thudding of their hearts filled the quiet.
"Has it ended?"
One of the younger officers asked, his voice trembling with fear.
Everything that had happened felt unreal, like some kind of nightmare. Uche's attack didn't even last more than a couple of minutes, but in that time, he had wiped out dozens of elite squad officers, leaving only a handful injured but alive. They had trained for encounters like this, but none of them could have imagined being taken apart so quickly, so efficiently. And by one man.
"A single man did all this..."
Sergeant Kim muttered under his breath, disbelief tinging his voice. He leaned against the burnt-out shell of a van for a moment, taking in the scene.
The grenade. If Inspector Ray hadn't thrown it when he did, they might all have been wiped out. Kim had been against it at first, convinced they could subdue Uche without resorting to explosives. Now, he knew he owed the young inspector an apology. He glanced toward Ray, who stood on the other side of the van, arms crossed, wearing a look that was difficult to interpret—calm, almost detached, yet edged with a strange weariness.
"That bastard..." Kim thought bitterly. "He's always right."
Clearing his throat, Sergeant Kim spoke aloud, trying to reassure the team.
"I think it's over. Everyone, come out."
A few officers hesitated, still crouching behind their cover, glancing at one another nervously. The air felt too still, too fragile—like the calm before a storm.
"It's safe," Kim added, stepping fully into the open. "I think he's dead. Inspector Ray saved us all."
Despite the words, the officers moved cautiously, their expressions wary. Slowly, they began emerging from behind vans and debris, weapons still raised, sweeping their surroundings in case of any lurking danger.
"Alright," Kim ordered. "Let's recover our fallen comrades. We'll give them a proper burial. And someone send word to headquarters—Snowflake is down. He killed multiple officers during the assault, so we had no choice but to take him out. Request two additional vans. Some of ours got wrecked in the assault."
The officers dispersed into action. Some gathered the bodies of their comrades, gently placing them into black body bags. Others contacted headquarters to report the outcome of the operation.
Meanwhile, Sergeant Kim and Inspector Ray cautiously approached Uche's lifeless body. The man lay sprawled beside a burning van, his skin charred and his clothes reduced to ash. Smoke curled lazily around him, the stench of burnt flesh hanging heavy in the air. His body was riddled with open wounds—deep gashes that revealed bone and sinew beneath blistered skin.
Kim knelt beside the corpse, studying the damage.
"You did a good job, Inspector Ray. I don't think I would've done this much damage with the grenade."
Ray didn't respond immediately. He stood a few feet away, arms still folded, eyes fixed on Uche's battered form with a distant, unreadable expression. The grenade had detonated perfectly—he had aimed it at the van closest to Uche, rather than directly at the man himself. It was a calculated move. A direct hit might have only wounded Uche, allowing him to recover too quickly. The explosion had caused the van to ignite, and the resulting blast had burned and battered Uche into the state they found him in now.
But still... Inspector Ray felt uneasy.
"We should strap him down," Inspector Ray said finally, his voice low but firm. "Something tells me this isn't over."
Sergeant Kim glanced at him, brow furrowing.
"You think he's still alive?"
Ray gave a grim nod.
"I wouldn't take any chances, we all see what he can do."
Without argument, Kim helped secure Uche's body. They wrapped him in thick tarps and locked handcuffs around his wrists and ankles. Heavy-duty chains followed, binding his arms and legs in tight coils. They wrapped more chains around his torso and head, securing everything to the inside of a reinforced cell in one of the vans. The lifeless body lay still throughout the process, but neither Kim nor Ray relaxed.
A senior officer from headquarters, clutching his bandaged chest, frowned as he watched the elaborate restraints being fastened.
"Isn't this a bit much? The guy's dead."
The mam said.
"Better safe than sorry."
Kim grunted, tightening the final chain.
"We don't know what his body is capable of," Ray added coldly. "If he wakes up halfway to headquarters, we're finished."
The officer grimaced but said nothing more, wincing as he adjusted his bloodied uniform.
"To be honest," Ray continued, "I knew something was off the moment he surrendered without a fight. No traps, no ambush, no clever tricks—it didn't sit right with me. That man never goes down easy. He had to be planning something."
The officer from headquarters shook his head.
"I thought he surrendered because he knew he was outnumbered... but that bastard's always a step ahead."
After securing Uche's body, the officers finished loading their fallen comrades into a separate van. The scene was cleared, and Uche's house was sealed off. They stood waiting for the additional vans to arrive, each man on edge, exchanging wary glances. When the replacements finally came, they wasted no time climbing in and setting off toward headquarters.
---
The convoy rolled down a narrow, deserted road, avoiding the main highway. For the first hour, the journey was smooth, with nothing but the rumble of engines and the occasional murmur over the radio.
Then the silence was broken.
"Sir, something's happening to Snowflake's body."
One of the officers guarding the reinforced cell Uche was kept, said through the radio.
Sergeant Kim grabbed his own radio and speaks.
"What do you mean? What's going on?"
There was a brief pause before the officer guarding the cell responded, his voice shaky.
"I... I think he's breathing. His chest is moving—just slightly, but it's there."
Kim's heart skipped a beat. Before he could respond, the van at the front of the convoy screeched to an abrupt halt, tires skidding across the asphalt. The sudden stop forced the rest of the convoy to brake sharply, vehicles lurching to a halt one after the other.
The Sergeant's temper flared as he shot a glare at the driver.
"Why the hell are we stopping? The bastard is waking up, and you decide to stop?! You want him to kill us all? We need to get to headquarters before—"
The driver raised his hand, his face pale as he pointed ahead.
"Look,"
He whispered, his voice trembling.
Sergeant Kim and Inspector Ray turned their eyes forward, and their blood ran cold. Up ahead, a small black bus sat in the middle of the road, its surface gleaming with rows of explosives strapped to its sides. And standing several meters behind the bus was a large man, a bazooka resting casually on his shoulder.
Before they could react, the man fired. A missile the size of a human head streaked through the air, heading straight for the explosive-laden bus.
"AMBUSH!"