BXBX NOVEL Chapter 192 Minesweeper
Tristan tilted his head, studying the wiring, switching to and from heat vision to see better.
\'Just cutting wires won\'t work here. In fact, cutting a wire might just make the entire thing short-circuit and explode immediately. Or it might short-circuit at any other moment because the air got wet and the welding inside is… I don\'t even want to guess.\'
This left Tristan with one solution—the most straightforward one. He squinted, making out the details of the detonator box in the dark.
\'But if there ARE any safeguards on this bomb, they will certainly activate when I do this. There\'s no chance of there being any safeguards, but if there ARE…\'
Tristan shook his head and reached out with his knife. Using its tip as a makeshift screwdriver, he unlatched six screws holding down the detonator box\'s lid.
The piece of plastic fell to the side almost immediately. Inside, amid the mess of wires and awful welding work, Tristan located four more screws.
His knife bent slightly as Tristan worked, but didn\'t break.
Half a minute later, all the screws and spare details were lying in the box, and nothing was holding the main part of the detonator attached to the bomb anymore.
Tristan just pulled it out and let out a breath.
Nothing exploded.
\'The worst part is done. Now with the rest.\'
He had to remove the wires from the rest of the bomb. This meant a dozen more screws, but after three more minutes—less than a song—the bomb was disarmed. Nothing itched in Tristan\'s explosive senses anymore.
The detonator and all its wires were hanging from Tristan\'s hands lying a dead octopus, its thin limbs dragging over the ground.
[Task complete: disarm the explosive. Reward: your PP increased by 2500!]
Tristan let out a breath and grinned with renewed energy.
\'Now I only have to clean things up here.\'
The box would have to stay—eventually someone will find it, and there would likely be an investigation if someone understood what was inside of it. Or the stage workers might decide it\'s just some garbage.
Either way, it won\'t be Tristan\'s problem. The man who brought the thing here was.
Tristan used the wires from the now-harmless detonator to tie the bomber up better, stuffed a piece of his own shirt in his mouth as a makeshift gag, and hauled him upright.
With his muscles, Tristan could lift him easily enough, but the man was physically larger than him and carrying him was inconvenient.
And why would he if the man still had a pair of functional legs?
Tristan held the bomber by the elbow and used the knife to add him acceleration. Then he led him to the entrance which they used to enter.
On the way there, Tristan got a message from Vargas. The men Tristan asked for were already there, waiting nearby—and he got the number of their driver.
Tristan stopped in an empty hallway, keeping his prisoner still with a grip on his arm while Tristan\'s other hand held a phone. After a moment of thinking, Tristan typed:
[Get closer to the back entrance and park near the graffiti of a blue frog monster. Just stay there, do nothing.]
As soon as he got confirmation, Tristan switched the phone to the knife again and went outside.
The pair of security guards he had convinced into being a federal agent stood straighter at his approach, but he saw they were tense already. No wonder—a gray car with black-tinted windows parked near a wall only fifteen meters away, next to a graffiti of a blue frog monster.
"Mr. Michelton!" A guard exclaimed, staring at you with wide eyes. "You got him? The criminal?"
Both of the guards were now examining you with curiosity and relief. There even was some awe at the way Tristan handled a man taller and broader than him with an ease.
They still weren\'t suspicious of Tristan, but that didn\'t make them safe.
"Can we call the police now?" the other guard asked.
"No," Tristan cut off immediately in a tone that gave no room for arguing. "This matter is not public. My backup is there already, anyway."
He nodded at the black car.
"But…"
Tristan narrowed his eyes at the protesting guard.
"The operation is successfully complete. Your involvement was appreciated, but it\'s over now. Return to your regular duties. I assure you, there\'s no danger to civilians anymore. I repeat—do NOT alert the police about this."
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The prisoner in Tristan\'s arm twitched and moaned something in protest, but a subtle poke of a knife to the back of his neck made him quiet again.
The security guard froze under Tristan\'s gaze, then saluted stiffly like on a parade.
"Sir, yes, sir!"
A former military man. The guard\'s partner copied the gesture, but with much less grace.
"Sir, yes, sir!"
Tristan gave them a slightly patronizing smile—like from a superior to subordinates—and pushed his prisoner to the awaiting car.
He opened the back door, shoved the man inside, and followed. Only when Tristan was finally hidden from the guards by the car\'s tinted windows, he allowed himself to let out a breath.
A notification appeared.
[Task complete: prevent any interruptions to the ongoing Nelson\'s concert. Reward: your PP increased by 2500!]
Tristan set it aside and looked toward the front seats. He had recognized the driver and the man in the shotgun seat as soon as he had opened the door—Cutout and another semi-familiar man whose name Tristan couldn\'t remember.
"Orders, boss?" Cutout asked, looking at Tristan through the rear-view mirror.
"First, drive me to the front entrance of the concert hall. Second, I want you to take this man somewhere nice and quiet. I want to interrogate him personally later. And that will be all."n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om