"Cute little lamb, don't bother struggling!"
On the truck, the thugs had twisted faces, raising their guns to fire at the sports car's tires.
As several bullet holes appeared, there was a hiss from the pitch-black tires deflating, the outline collapsing visibly, and the entire convertible skidded to the left as if sliding on an ice rink.
"Damn." Ling cursed. "I just changed those tires last month!"
She jerked the steering wheel, barely managing to straighten the car's direction as a barrage of bullets followed.
"Watch me turn this hunk of metal into scrap!"
The thug controlling the machine gun laughed maniacally, blood-colored paint flowing on his face, with bullets spewing from the scorching hot gun barrel every second.
A dense web of gunfire covered the entire sports car, and before long, its metal body was riddled with black bullet holes, just like a wounded beast; headlights went out, the bumper cracked, emitting wails of agony.
