Chapter 378: Ron's Gradual Transformation
"Hey! Arthur, focus! We're on surveillance, what are you looking at?"
In a Parisian café, Ron slapped Jason Statham on the shoulder, annoyed. They'd agreed to maintain surveillance together, but it turned out he was the only one watching the target, while Arthur was glued to his phone.
Seriously, who's the boss here?
"Sorry, this guy is hilarious. I've never seen an astronaut get pranked like this." Arthur shared a video on his phone with Ron, and it turned out to be someone Ron knew.
In the video, Howard had "F.loops" written on his forehead (meaning both "Fruit Loops" and "Prank Me"), happily giving a thumbs-up to the camera.
Besides the words, his face was also covered in Sharpie drawings of glasses and a mustache, making him look like a giant Mickey Mouse. Ron knew immediately he'd been pranked by the other astronauts.
"Poor Howard~"
"You know him?" Arthur asked, somewhat surprised.
"Of course, he's my brother's best friend, and also part of the technical R&D division of our special operations team. Okay, that's actually pretty funny." Ron couldn't help but laugh out loud at Howard's ridiculous appearance.
"Of course, you haven't seen his last video yet. Someone put a Scream mask on the outside of his window while he was sleeping during a spacewalk, and it scared this guy so much that he screamed for fifteen minutes straight, haha."
"Look over there," Ron laughed, then suddenly spotted a familiar figure with a backpack next to him and forcefully turned Arthur's head in that direction: "That's the guy who was at the fire!"
Ron had just arrived in Paris yesterday and hadn't even had a chance to settle in before receiving intelligence shared by the CIA that the woman who stole the nuclear device had her Parisian office burned to the ground.
That's why he dragged Arthur out early this morning to look for clues. This time, Ron didn't even bother using his own intelligence channels and just tagged along with that chubby CIA analyst.
By the way, whether the CIA was short-staffed or for some other reason, they carelessly sent out the same desk jockey Ron had seen during his visit as a field operative for such a critical mission.
"Look over there, it's CIA legend Ford!" Arthur pointed to the side as if he had discovered something halfway through. Ron looked and sure enough, it was Ford, the one they had a confrontation with at the entrance of the CIA facility.
"I knew the CIA wouldn't be so careless as to send just a middle-aged woman on a mission," Ron nodded in sudden understanding. "Now I get it. They sent two teams: the legendary operative to draw attention in the open, and the analyst to provide overwatch from the shadows."
Ron had, of course, checked Agent Ford's mission record after returning, but it was absolutely terrible. Almost half of his missions ended in failure, and Ron immediately recognized them as fabricated. He firmly believed Agent Ford was as skilled as he claimed, a belief stemming from his irrational faith in Jason Statham's face, a faith that even extended to Arthur.
Come on! Field operations are always fraught with danger. Aside from elite operatives like Ron himself and his team, who would treat those missions like a walk in the park?
If Ford really had as many failures as his record claimed, he would have been killed countless times already. How could he be so vigorous and energetic carrying out missions like this?
Thinking this, a hint of contempt for the CIA flashed through Ron's mind: Who are they trying to fool with such obvious misdirection? Even a child wouldn't buy it!
Well, if the CIA's personnel department knew Ron's thoughts, they'd probably die laughing. Even with Ron's extensive experience, he never imagined that an operative could be so incompetent that his opponent wouldn't even realize he was an agent before knocking him unconscious and dismissing him as a civilian.
On the street ahead, "Jason Statham" walked casually at the front, followed by the suspicious man who had appeared at the fire scene, and then the heavyset woman who had just rushed out from the coffee shop.
Ford quickly found a pretty woman and chatted for a bit. Ron was too far away to hear what they talked about, but he still memorized the woman's face. While he was chatting with the pretty woman, the arson suspect who had been following behind suddenly made his move.
Taking advantage of Ford's distraction, he switched Ford's backpack with his own, and Ford seemed completely unaware.
"This…" Ron's eye twitched. He was speechless. Maintaining situational awareness of one's belongings was a basic skill for an operative. How could someone who couldn't even do that be considered a legendary agent?
"Do you think he might have already spotted the people behind him and was planning an elaborate trap to draw them out?" Arthur pondered, stroking his chin.
"Yes! That's it!" Ron clapped his hands excitedly. "How could I not have thought of that? How could a renowned CIA legend make such a basic mistake! Just watch, he'll soon give those criminals who underestimated him a devastating surprise."
But things didn't go as Ron hoped.
Before Ford's supposed trap could spring, the heavyset woman who had previously worked in the CIA operations center rushed towards Ford like a maniac, shouting "I crapped my pants!" to get others to clear a path for her.
If there were an award for the most embarrassing operative of the year, Ron thought she would undoubtedly win by unanimous vote.
"This woman ruined Ford's entire operation," Arthur sighed, shaking his head helplessly.
"Stop watching, let's follow her. We can provide backup if needed." Ron patted Arthur on the back and followed. He admitted he was impressed with this "Jason Statham" and had the idea of recruiting him.
A short distance ahead was a plaza, where an unknown street performer was on stage. The heavyset woman rushed onto the stage, snatched the microphone from the performer, and shouted, "Ford! They switched your bag!"
Ford opened the backpack and saw a time bomb with only ten seconds left on its countdown!
"FUCK!!!" Ford quickly shoved aside the crowd blocking his way, grabbed the backpack, and threw it into the river.
"BOOM!"
The bomb created a massive splash in the river.
"Boss, is that guy really a super agent?" Arthur was dumbfounded.
What kind of elite operative would carry a backpack someone swapped without even checking it, then walk around the streets carrying a time bomb, especially in the middle of a crowded plaza?
If something went wrong, countless people could die, right?
"We were wrong…" Ron shook his head gravely.
"So Ford was a fraud?"
"No, I mean he might be more brilliant than we thought." Ron said seriously, "We all thought he was just trying to draw the enemy out, but he thought several steps ahead of us. He even deliberately brought the bomb to the most densely populated area, just in case the enemy didn't take the bait. Remember the training I gave you?"
Arthur nodded, puzzled, but Ron pointed to the river beside them.
"I've said it before, an operative needs not only top-notch tactical skills, but also strategic foresight. I mean, he probably has the entire map of Paris memorized, which is why he was so confident carrying that backpack around. He knows exactly where there are rivers or other safe places to neutralize the bomb!"
Most people might not notice this detail, but Ron did. Just as he'd said, Ford memorized the terrain of his operation area beforehand, a practice that had saved him from many deadly situations in his past missions. He hadn't expected Ford to have the same habit.
Ron felt he'd finally found a kindred spirit.
"Are you sure?" Arthur was still somewhat skeptical.
"Of course, look, that's his achievement," the arsonist reappeared in the corner of the stage, casually snapping a photo of the heavyset woman still frozen on stage. "I bet he discovered Ford had backup. Damn it, this analyst ruined Ford's entire plan. Let's go see what other amateur mistakes that desk jockey can make."
The small plaza was in chaos. Ron and Arthur blended seamlessly into the crowd, especially after their disguises. Ron looked like a middle-aged British gentleman, while Arthur, disguised by Ron, resembled a Walter White impersonator.
"I think we shouldn't have followed her this far, Boss. We might have lost track of that legendary operative," Arthur said, watching the heavyset woman's retreating figure as she entered an abandoned building.
The arsonist ran ahead, the heavyset woman chased after him, and Ron and Arthur trailed far behind. Finally, the arsonist disappeared into an abandoned building, and the heavyset woman pulled out a pistol and followed him inside.
"Yeah, the rest is none of your business. Your appearance can easily cause confusion, so wait here. I'll go in alone."
As Ron entered the building, the heavyset woman and the arsonist were almost at the top floor, so Ron had to quicken his pace. Finally, he stopped just before reaching the top floor door. He heard footsteps outside, heavy and familiar. It was undoubtedly the heavyset woman from the CIA.
Ron peeked out, and sure enough, the heavyset woman was nervously gripping her gun, searching for the arsonist.
"What an idiot who's been sitting behind a desk all day! He's in the second door ahead of you!" Ron couldn't help but complain about the low quality of CIA personnel once again.
This building clearly hadn't been used in a long time, so every doorknob on the top floor was covered in dust, except for the door Ron noticed. There was a faint handprint on the doorknob. Ron was willing to bet that if the arsonist wasn't hiding behind that door, he would eat his own Glock.
Sure enough, just as the heavyset woman reached the door, the arsonist suddenly burst through the old door and tackled her to the ground.
"Hey, I never expected to see you here," the heavyset woman said, feigning composure. "I just came to find my parakeet, it just flew away. Hey, Mr. Tweety, are you there? Tweet tweet~"
She even whistled, but the arsonist had no patience for games and immediately pulled out a knife to kill her.
"I need to give you fair warning. I don't want to see this ridiculous bombing attempt again, understand?" The heavyset woman suddenly reached out, and the pistol that had been knocked away while she was rolling on the ground returned to her hand, pointing at the arsonist: "Drop the knife, or I'll shoot!"
The arsonist smiled mockingly: "Really? I don't think you can fire that gun. I think it would work better if you loaded it with bullets first."
Ron was utterly speechless. What kind of disaster was this? Even if this heavyset woman was an analyst, she shouldn't be this incompetent! She didn't even notice the magazine had been removed?
"I bet CIA operative training is pretty much like playing cops and robbers in kindergarten, right?" The arsonist grinned maliciously, stepping forward and thrusting his knife to stab her.
The heavyset woman suddenly kicked at his knife-wielding hand, but the arsonist was no amateur. He slightly pulled his hand back, changing his attack from stabbing to slashing, intending to open up her plump leg first.
"Oh well, I might as well lend a hand~"
At the critical moment, Ron picked up a chunk of concrete and hurled it at the arsonist's face. Hearing the sound, the arsonist turned his head, but his hand was just a fraction too late, missing the heavyset woman's leg.
The heavyset woman's kick at the knife also missed, but she didn't stop. Instead, using the momentum she had gained, she continued kicking towards the arsonist's lower body.
"CRACK~" It was the sound of shattering testicles.
Ron's eye twitched. Even though the kick hadn't landed on him, he couldn't help but feel sympathy for the arsonist. The arsonist, naturally, screamed in agony, doubling over.
The heavyset woman's other kick came at him, aimed at the hand holding the knife. The force of the kick caused the knife to redirect into his own body instead. Ron saw the arsonist's face contort in pain. Taking advantage of this opening, the heavyset woman stood up, stomped on his ankle, and pulled the knife out by pressing on his chest.
However, the hand pressing on his chest accidentally applied too much force, pushing the arsonist off the roof.
"No! No! No!" The heavyset woman reached out to pull him back, but it was too late. A heavy thud followed, and when they looked down, the arsonist was already on the ground below, a piece of rebar from construction debris piercing his chest. He was clearly dead.
"Slow reaction time, strength comparable to an average person, but lacks control in her attacks; not worth recruiting." Ron wrote this assessment under the heavyset woman's photo in his notebook, shook his head, and went downstairs first.
"How'd it go, Boss? I saw that guy from the coffee shop die."
"Yeah, that's right, so I suggest we head to the Champs-Élysées now, okay?"
"Why there?" Arthur asked, puzzled.
"Because there's Chanel, Louis Vuitton, and everything that fascinates women," Ron sighed. "Trust me, if your lady knows you came to Paris and didn't find any of those brands in your luggage, you won't be getting any action for at least a week."
(End of Chapter)
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