As a chorus of affirmatives echoed from the convoy's radios, Coulson checked his weapon while shouting toward the disoriented John Wick, who was still clutching his head.
"Wake up, John! Snap out of it! Tell us what we're dealing with. Are they even human?"
Trying to shake off the dizziness, John groaned and answered through clenched teeth, "That bar's a goddamn demon nest. I saw vampires… demons… even a full skeleton ordering them to capture me. For God's sake, drive faster—I can't take on that many at once!"
The driver, hearing that, nearly fumbled the wheel. He stomped the accelerator, and the engine roared as they blasted through a red light.
Agents in the following cars, having heard John's words over the comms, hastily double-checked their weapons and ammo. Some even clutched crosses around their necks, whispering prayers under their breath.
The sound of magazines locking into place filled the air.
John, still nauseous but focused, pulled out his Glock from the left holster and inspected the remaining explosive rounds—thirteen left. After a brief pause, he handed it to Coulson.
"I've got explosive rounds in both Glocks. Used four in each already, so this one should have thirteen left. Find the right moment, take out the cars behind us. It's our only shot."
Coulson blinked, then grabbed the radio.
"Anyone carrying grenade launchers or rockets—fall back and take rear guard. Issue three warnings. If they don't stop, blow them off the road."
Three SUVs pulled to an alternate lane, slowed, and raised weapons. Agents leaned out with grenade launchers.
Through speakers, they issued three separate warnings.
The ghost cars didn't slow.
BOOM!
A grenade smashed into the nearest pursuing vehicle. It exploded in a fireball and flipped into the air.
But before they could celebrate, one agent caught a glimpse of the other ghost cars and froze.
"Jesus—they're empty!" he shouted over the comms. "They're driving themselves! No drivers! They're ghost cars!"
"Forget the logic—take the rest of them down!" Coulson barked.
But before the rear team could react again, the flaming wreck that had just been launched into the sky revved back to life—roaring toward them, fully ablaze.
"Goddammit!" Coulson slammed a fist against the dashboard, then turned to John. "You're the expert now! Think of something! How the hell do we stop this?"
Still dizzy, John was trying to ease his symptoms by channeling holy light into his body. It was helping, barely. Between the rising nausea and the constant thunder of explosions behind them, he forced himself to think.
"I've had this holy power for, like, half a day," he muttered, "don't expect me to suddenly be a demonologist."
Wait.
William.
If William had made Mephisto tread lightly, maybe Sunday knew how to counter creatures like this.
Clutching his ear, he shouted, "Sunday! Tell me what to do!"
"The most effective method," Sunday replied instantly, "is to invoke the glyphs of the Holy Light. The '丰' symbol in your eyes can repel or expel 90% of lesser demons."
"I have symbols in my eyes?"
John blinked at Coulson. "Do I have markings in my eyes?"
"Of course you do!" Coulson exclaimed, drawing the '丰' glyph in the air. "You didn't know?!"
"Tell your men to carve this symbol onto their bullets," John instructed urgently, already pulling out a spare magazine and using a small knife to etch the glyph into each round.
Seeing John take it seriously, Coulson wasted no time.
"Engrave the symbol—'丰'—on all ammunition. Target and fire at those vehicles. Now!"
RAT-TAT-TAT! RAT-TAT-TAT!
A long rifle at the rear of the convoy unleashed a storm of bullets toward a ghost car.
CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!
Rounds tore through its shell—until suddenly, it burst into flames.
But this time, the fire twisted skyward into a blazing ball, rising dozens of meters before slamming back into the earth and vanishing completely.
"YES! Yes!!"
The agent who fired didn't need an explanation. He had just driven a demon back to Hell.
Grinning wildly, he dove back into the car and shouted, "It worked! It worked! I sent one back to Hell! Hurry—more bullets! I'll send them all back!"
Morale in the rest of the convoy surged.
Ninety percent of the fear humans have of demons stems from believing they're unbeatable.
But now that they had a way to fight back?
What had once terrified them now only stoked their resolve.
Before the rear gunner could fire again, the second-to-last and third-to-last cars swerved into new positions for better angles.
Agents leaned out and opened fire.
RAT-TAT-TAT! RAT-TAT-TAT!
Two more ghost cars burst into flame. Two more fireballs streaked upward, lighting the street before plunging back to earth and vanishing.
"God bless! God bless!"
Three demons banished in under a minute. Even a fool could see momentum had shifted.
If Coulson gave the order right now, his agents wouldn't hesitate to go hunting.
The last ghost car slammed on the brakes, spun 180 degrees, and fled into the dark.
"We're going back!" John said eagerly, adrenaline kicking in. "Let's send the rest of those bastards back to Hell!"
But Coulson was still the field commander. He wasn't about to endanger his men unnecessarily.
"Tell logistics to mass-produce glyph-marked rounds. Notify surveillance: anyone who exits Midnight Hour is to be tailed and have their entire background brought to me."
WHUP-WHUP-WHUP.
"What's that noise?"
Before Coulson could finish his orders, a chilling flutter of wings filled the air. Streetlamps lining the avenue began to go dark one by one—from far to near.
Grabbing his radio, Coulson bellowed, "All units! Alert! ALERT! The danger's not over!"
______
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