Chapter 616: Ambush and chaos (2)

"The guy with seven thieves and thieves is approaching!"
Suddenly, the motorcycle kid who was sent to deal with the jam called to Miveman, and then the gunshot came from his general direction.
"Change it, six, one fell."
"Come back here!"
Miveman had to use a communicator to contact a nearby cart. His voice had a special flat tone, a tone that he wanted to try to control himself, even if he was so angry that he could wake up a giant Sculptor. beast.
"All nearby big cars, come here to meet me."
"I'm in a bad situation here!"
A voice responded that the dull voice of heavy weapons made his words sound credible.
There was another voice rang on the same channel, presumably another big car, God knows where he went.
"I saw a large group of rebels with yellow belts on their heads! They can get around and kill them all."
"do not go!"
A disorganized voice interjected that he did not belong to this chaotic communication channel, but from a neurotic boy.
"Come back first to protect Miveman's big roller car."
Encouraging words, but Miveman's experience is enough to realize that it is much easier to say than it is actually done.
The odds that the isolated carts can successfully pass through this chaotic surrounding are smaller than the chance of using a spoon to stop an avalanche. If you want to leave here alive, you have to take care of yourself as usual. Yourself.
Well, almost take care of yourself.
Soon, a familiar smell brought good news from behind, and his reliable gunner returned.
"A lot of rebels, mixed with the boys, but with yellow marks on their heads or arms."
He said what he saw and slid between the rear bumper of the fast armored car and a motorcycle tricycle with a big iron box between the two front wheels.
Judging from the various fragrances emitted by it and the clothes worn by the frightened fart, the car should be loaded with some kind of food, and these fart should be the help of a boss chef.
The leading fart was staring at Miveman with small eyes, as if a pair of Schuegs had suddenly appeared in front of him.
Udo raised his gun again, then fired a few shots in the direction of the shotgun shooter.
"Dry, I didn't hit that fart."
He glanced at the quiet trembling food vendor, then took a sip.
"Look at the fart! Find a sand pile to hide yourself."
Udo's attempt to show an act of relaxed behavior contrasted with the extreme incoherence of the environment now. It seemed that the fart realized that it was not an illusion, and it was not anyway, and then he swallowed convulsively.
"Yes, yes, boss!"
His voice was not as trembling as Udo had imagined, and obviously he had regained his consciousness quite clearly.
"Boss, which of your gangs? What the is going on here?"
"Mivman, a mechanic that the overlord personally admired, my gunner Udo, and a bunch of unreliable rebels are making trouble."
The mechanic suddenly plugged in, mentioned all the points as quickly as possible, and then turned his attention back to more important things.
One of his deputy gunners fell down and was still fighting with the other.
This left five rebels approaching their position.
In fact, one of them already knows, and he will not move the place, so the remaining four circumstances are unknown.
"Where are the other traitors?"
Miveman shouted to the intercom, hoping that perhaps the other captains or boys could have a clue, but he had no such luck.
"Lost."
Udo didn't care about muttering.
"Oh, hairy hammer!"
Miveman complained loudly.
"Use your eyes! Everyone else will run out."
Bang~!
Suddenly, a machine gun bullet penetrated the box on the motorcycle's three wheels, and its owner suddenly screamed loudly, just like a frightened puppy fell behind Miveman's leg.
When the mechanic raised his head in time, he saw a guy in a junk costume, standing on top of the tricycle and aiming.
Before he could complete the action, Miveman waved his chain saw axe and cut off his left leg from his knee.
"what!"
In this way, he fell off the car and fell to the ground in front of Miveman.
Without waiting for him to get up, the mechanic cut off his head, the food vendor screamed again, and his green narrow face was now stained with a little scarlet.
"Another one!"
Miveman shouted excitedly.
"Where are the others!"
"Flash off!"
The motorcycle kid who had thought he had died appeared again. He turned over and came to the roof of the car. The sudden gun in his hand gave him reason for being late.
He fired, and a hail of large-caliber ammunition smashed the front of the car with the shotgun behind him.
The ugly jacket tumbled to avoid it, picked up his own weapon, but before being shot, Udo shot him in the torso, fell to the ground and struggled for a while.
Moto turned around and looked at Miveman while changing the bullet into the sudden gun.
"Cross out three."
He said, complacent in his voice.
Then, before waiting for Miveman to give some helpful suggestions, such as "Get down, you idiot", another shotgun shooter suddenly shot in the chest.
The Motorbike fell heavily on the other side of the car. The crisp breastplate suffered most of the damage, but also shed a lot of blood.
After a while, he climbed up to the car and sat up against the car, but it looked like he couldn't fight anymore.
"They are coming!"
Udo shouted as if Meviman hadn't noticed it, but I think he might have yelled to the boys nearby.
"many!"
A certain voice came from the newsletter, and the sound of fire that followed made his words obvious.
"At least twenty~EbookFREE.me~ looks like it has rockets."
Then there was a pause.
"A place to you..."
Then his communicator suddenly stopped talking.
"But it looks like they coordinated quite well."
Miveman glanced at the corpses of the rebels who had been killed by them, and they saw no signs of communication equipment.
"Can you see who is directing them?"
"No."
Confused in the communicator replied.
"Speaking of it, I didn't see them talking."
This is a question worth doubting, but at that time Miveman had no time to worry, and a burst of salvo began to ping pong around them.
"Dead!"
Butt hawkers yelled and pressed hard against the ground as if they were pretending to be lines drawn on the road.
The mechanic took a deep breath, then straightened up, picked up the gun in the traitor's hand that he had cut into three pieces, and threw it in front of the farts.
"Don't pretend to die! Get up and fight!"
"Ah? Oh, good!"
The farts hurriedly moved the gun to the roof of the car, and they operated it in a variety of ways. At the time, Miveman felt that even if they had a very small chance of hitting with that clumsy weapon, it would at least attract some points. Firepower.
"Hold here with your shoulders, gently pull the trigger, and Mao will guide your front sight!"
The fart did it carefully according to his instructions, at first he flinched at the noise and recoil, and then a wild smile appeared on his face.
"Cool!"
He screamed with satisfaction, then fired a few solid shots at the enemy.
"Why don't they go forward?"
Suddenly, Udo raised a question and did not expect to be answered.
"They seem to completely surround us."