SPARTAN WARLORD SYSTEM: CONQUERING EMPIRES AND BEAUTIES

A thin mist from the lingering rain blanketed the New Jersey interstate highway. The roar of V8 engines from five armored black Chevrolets pierced the silence of the wet asphalt at sixty miles per hour. 

Inside the cabin of the third car, the core vehicle of the convoy, the air felt heavy and cold. The smell of fresh leather seats mixed with the scent of gun solvent and cold sweat.

Nathan Cross sat rigidly in the front passenger seat. His sharp steel-gray eyes never stopped moving. He scanned the side mirrors, the distant overpass, and every civilian vehicle they passed. A level-four tactical Kevlar vest hugged his broad chest. It pressed against the Sig Sauer MCX assault rifle resting on his lap with the muzzle pointed at the floor. As a former private military contractor who had spent seven years in the dirtiest warzones of the Middle East and Africa, Nathan's instincts screamed that something was wrong. It was too quiet.

In the backseat, Cleo hugged an antique silver metal briefcase against her thighs. The twenty-five-year-old woman's knuckles turned white from gripping the handle so tightly. Her black silk dress contrasted sharply with her pale face. 

"Miss Cleo, you're going to cramp your wrists," Nathan reprimanded without looking back. His voice was low, flat, and perfectly controlled. "Put the briefcase on the floorboards. If we crash suddenly, those metal corners could break your ribs."

"No," Cleo replied quickly. Her breathing was heavy. "This briefcase cannot touch the floor. My father sacrificed half of the consortium's wealth and ten years of research to extract the compound structure sample inside this thing. If Black Dragon gets their hands on it, that bio-genetic research will turn into a biological weapon without compromise."

Nathan glanced briefly through the rearview mirror. "Our job isn't to protect your father's ambitions, Miss. Our job is to make sure your head stays attached to your neck until the research facility gates close."

"Hey, Nathan, relax a little," a crisp laugh came from the driver's seat. Adam, a tall and wiry man with a thin scar on his left temple, smiled casually while turning the steering wheel slightly to the left. "We have two dozen heavily armed guards in the other four cars. The Black Dragon boys might be crazy, but they aren't stupid enough to attack a federally licensed PMC convoy on an open US highway. This isn't Mogadishu."

Nathan turned his head. His eyes narrowed as he stared at his old partner. There was something odd about Adam this morning. His fingers tapped a random rhythm on the steering wheel way too often, and his eyes flicked to the digital clock on the dashboard every thirty seconds.

"In our world, assumptions are the fastest way to order a coffin, Adam," Nathan said coldly. "Three minutes ago we passed two empty police cruisers parked on the shoulder. No sirens. No officers. That's the sign of a silent blockade."

Adam laughed again, but this time it sounded a bit hollow. "You're always paranoid, man. That's why you're always the best in the field."

BOOM!

Adam's words were cut off by a deafening explosion that shook the earth. 

Exactly a hundred yards ahead of them, the lead Suburban exploded into a massive fireball. The shockwave hurled two tons of steel debris into the air. It slammed into the asphalt and spun wildly like a top. C4 mines planted under the highway overpass drainage had torn their convoy to shreds.

"Contact!" Nathan roared. His hands moved mechanically. He flicked the safety off his weapon in a fraction of a second. "Hit the brakes, Adam! Jerk the wheel to the right. Take the shoulder!"

Before Adam could hit the brake pedal, two white box trucks barreled out from behind the man-made cliffs on both sides of the highway. They intentionally crashed to crush guard cars number two and four. Metal slammed against metal, producing a horrific screech that instantly crushed the cabins and the passengers inside. The screams of their comrades on the radio channel were immediately cut off by thick static.

"Fire! They're setting up a perimeter!" shouted the second guard in the back seat next to Cleo. He was a young man named Ryan, rolling down the bulletproof glass a few inches to return fire.

From the overpass crossing ahead, a dozen men in black masks with a red dragon emblem on their sleeves appeared. They wielded 7.62mm automatic assault rifles and armor-piercing rifles. A rain of heavy-caliber bullets battered Nathan's SUV windshield. The military-grade bulletproof glass instantly shattered. It formed a white spiderweb pattern that blurred their vision.

RAT-TAT-TAT! BANG-BANG!

"Get down!" Nathan ordered. He pressed Cleo's head down below the seat with his left hand. Meanwhile, his right hand aimed the muzzle of his MCX at the shooting port of the side window.

Cleo screamed hysterically as shards of outer glass scattered. Her hands remained locked around the silver briefcase on her chest. She curled up like a fetus on the cabin floor.

"Adam, get us out of here right now! Ram the emergency barrier on the right!" Nathan shouted. His eyes burned with pure combat focus. His brain worked like a tactical computer. He calculated shooting angles, enemy speed, and the nearest escape routes.

But Adam seemed to freeze for a moment. His foot hesitated above the gas pedal. Cold sweat poured down his temples. 

"Adam! Are you deaf?!" Nathan snapped. He reached out with his hand, grabbed the steering wheel, and forcefully jerked it to the right.

Adam finally stomped hard on the gas pedal. The V8 engine roared wildly. The three-ton SUV leaped forward. It rammed the enemy sedan trying to block the shoulder and sent it tumbling down the highway embankment. 

But at that exact second, an anti-materiel sniper rifle barked from the overpass. 

BANG!

The rear wheels of the SUV shook violently. Their bulletproof run-flat tires were severely shredded. This was followed by a burst of sparks from the steel rims grinding directly against the asphalt. The car swayed wildly out of control.

"Rear tires are blown!" Ryan yelled from the back. The young man's face was covered in fresh blood from bouncing bullet fragments. "The other guard car behind us already blew up, Nathan! Everyone's dead! We're on our own!"

Nathan glanced at the side mirror that was only half intact. Behind them, the last guard car was engulfed in black flames after being hit by a guided rocket. There were no survivors from the other four cars. The entire team of Russian guards hired by Cleo's father had been slaughtered in less than two minutes. This ambush operation was too clean, too coordinated, and had incredibly precise route coordinates.

"This route was changed thirty minutes before landing," Nathan hissed coldly. His gaze shifted to glare sharply at Adam beside him. "Only five people at headquarters knew we were taking the west toll exit."

Adam swallowed hard. His eyes stared straight ahead without daring to meet Nathan's gaze. "This isn't the time to point fingers, Nathan! They're hunting us! We need to survive!"

"Focus on driving and take this car out at the industrial park junction ahead," Nathan ordered. His voice now pierced like an ice dagger. 

Nathan opened a small gap in his passenger side window. The strong wind and the smell of gunpowder immediately slapped his face. With cold military calculation, he took aim at one of the shooters on the overpass who was reloading his machine gun.

POP! POP! POP!

Three measured shots from the barrel of Nathan's MCX flew with precision. The shooter on the bridge jerked backward. Nathan's bullets pierced the gap in the man's neck just below his tactical helmet. The guy free-fell from a height of thirty feet, slammed into the asphalt right in front of their car, and was crushed beneath the front tires.

"One bastard down!" Ryan muttered with a hysterical laugh mixed with horror.

"Conserve your ammo," Nathan cut in firmly. "There are still too many of them."

The limping SUV crashed through the emergency toll gate, shattering the automatic wooden barrier into pieces. The car body shook violently as they slid down the sloping exit ramp toward a run-down industrial zone filled with rows of old factories and abandoned warehouses. Thick white smoke billowed from the overheating hood. The smell of burning rubber filled the cabin.

Cleo started sobbing softly on the back floorboards. "They won't let us escape. My father. They must have killed my father at the lab too."

"Shut your mouth and stay calm, Miss," Nathan hissed mercilessly. "Your crying won't stop bullets."

Nathan glanced back at the cracked side mirror. His breath hitched for a split second.

Behind them, zooming down from the highway at high speed, were three black vans with no license plates and pitch-black windows. The sliding side door of one of the vans ripped wide open. It revealed the muzzle of a heavy .50 caliber Browning machine gun mounted on a steel tripod inside the cabin. It was cocked straight at the smashed rear of their SUV.

"Grab onto anything you can!" Nathan yelled as the shooter's finger in the van started squeezing the trigger.