This Is True Overkill

Lake stood by the window, a smile on his face as he watched the immigration officer inside. He stated his name and profession with a smile.

Although Lake was still Lake.

In the eyes of this immigration officer, Lake was undoubtedly not Lake, but the person on the London passport in his hand.

Dr. Charles Francis Xavier from Oxford University.

Lake had arrived in Belgium fifteen days ago and hadn’t entered directly because processing this fake identification took half a month.

Actually…

Lake had obtained the documents from his M16 friends the very next day. However, it took time to get the documents networked. If he didn’t do this, it would seem real, but as soon as the other party checked, the deception would be revealed.

Like right now.

Ding!

The immigration officer looked at the information that appeared on the computer, put away his vigilance, and handed the document back to Lake with a smile. "Have a nice day."

Lake took the document and smiled back, "You too."

After speaking.

Lake shouldered his backpack and left the checkpoint. As he walked out, he looked at the blue sky and white clouds in the distance. Undoubtedly, he had set foot on the land of San Lorenzo.

Daniel Whitehall would also meet his end.

Lake’s gaze turned towards the Presidential Palace in San Lorenzo, the corners of his mouth curving slightly upwards.

After years in the military, he hadn’t done much else, but when it came to subversion, Lake was undoubtedly an expert. He was very familiar with carrying out assassinations and kidnapping missions in small countries.

In the taxi.

Lake watched the soldiers walking by in pairs, wearing masks and somewhat familiar military uniforms, all with the same look in their eyes. He curiously asked the taxi driver about them.

The driver was an uncle.

A local.

The uncle glanced at the people Lake was pointing at and said, "Oh, they’re the Presidential Palace’s Special Guards. Don’t mess with them. A few days ago, a tourist wanted to take a picture with them, and these guys just snapped the tourist’s neck."

Lake was slightly taken aback. "And then?"

The uncle shook his head. "What then? This place is paradise for outsiders like you, but for us locals, our biggest wish is to save enough money to buy a ticket to leave."

Lake nodded thoughtfully, watching the Special Guards who had already gone their separate ways. The last ones had leather gloves on their hands, but in the gaps, Lake seemed to catch a glimpse of a cold glint.

Interesting.

Has the Winter Soldier turned into a Winter Soldier legion?

At San Lorenzo’s only five-star hotel.

Lake checked in.

He entered the room.

Lake flicked his right hand, pulling out a device. He thoroughly scanned the presidential suite, inside and out, and after confirming, he had a thought!

Come out, my clones!

No.

This free clone didn’t stay in New York, so it should be…

Eleven clones!

Bang!

Eleven clones instantly appeared in the spacious presidential suite.

Lake flicked his right hand and tossed eleven pieces of clothing of various styles from his storage space. "Change!"

The eleven clones silently lined up, took the clothes, and then lined up again to enter the nearby bathroom to change their outfits.

Lake, meanwhile, walked to the window, opened it, and looked at the Presidential Palace, which was only about a thousand meters away. The corners of his mouth curved slightly upwards.

The blue dot was still within the Presidential Palace.

Nine in the evening.

The information of foreign travelers who entered San Lorenzo in the afternoon was all transferred to the Information Technology Center of the Presidential Palace. Just then, a technician stood up and grabbed the phone next to him. "Charles Francis Xavier, Oxford University has no record of him."

Immediately after.

The radio waves flowed.

In the Presidential Palace, sitting in his luxurious office, Daniel Whitehall, who had changed his body but not his consciousness, also received the information from the Information Technology Center.

Daniel Whitehall turned to look at the Winter Soldier standing motionless beside him. "Kill him."

For Daniel Whitehall.

San Lorenzo was his private kingdom. He ruled everything here. Aviation was his, hotels were his, the military was his, and even the people living here were his.

Ten in the evening.

They’re here!

Lake opened his eyes, listening to the uniform footsteps echoing in his ears. A slight smile curved his lips as he looked at his Eleven Clones.

The Eleven Clones instantly materialized with their infinite Glock pistols.

Three minutes later.

The hotel elevator dinged and slowly opened. The eight Special Guards preparing to exit saw the scene outside and their eyes narrowed.

The next second.

Lake, standing in the center, smiled at those inside the elevator and gave a greeting. Then, he instantly pulled the trigger. The eleven clones on his left and right also opened fire in unison.

Instantly.

Gunfire erupted, completely announcing the prelude to this invitation to hell!

Puff puff puff!

Puff puff puff!

The eight Special Guards in the elevator immediately began to convulse on the spot.

Dense, seemingly endless bullets pierced their bodies, including their masked heads.

Two clones swung their right hands, their pistols aimed directly at the stairwell, and opened fire in unison.

Bang bang bang!

"Go!"

Lake directly ordered. The wooden door to the stairwell was instantly riddled with holes, revealing a Special Guard who was so suppressed by the intense gunfire that he didn’t dare to show his head.

Puff puff puff!

A burst of bullets hit the Special Guard all over his body. His head exploded, and he fell to the ground.

Lake removed the Special Guard’s left arm, revealing a Metal Left Arm.

As expected.

Daniel Whitehall clearly didn’t understand the principle of scarcity creating value.

No matter how precious something is, once it’s mass-produced, it will undoubtedly fall from being precious to being common junk.

If there were only one Bucky Barnes in the world, then undoubtedly, Bucky Barnes’ combat power could go toe-to-toe with Captain America. When needed, he could even fight aliens.

But…

Mass-produced Bucky Barnes would be, at most, just a somewhat elite soldier.

What use would elite soldiers be against his gun-talk?

At this moment.

The Presidential Hotel had descended into complete chaos. Screams continuously erupted from the floor where Lake was fighting. However, apart from that, not a single traveler from other rooms dared to open their doors to see what was happening.

After all, Westerners had received excellent education.

If they were Chinese, they would probably have opened their doors long ago to watch the commotion.

"Sir, there’s a shootout at the Presidential Hotel. Twenty Special Guards are dead."

"Dispatch soldiers."

"Yes!"

Daniel Whitehall said sternly to the guard who entered, his expressionless face betraying nothing. Then, through the drone’s view, he looked at the entire Presidential Hotel displayed on his computer screen from afar.

Boom boom boom!

Tanks purchased from London by the San Lorenzo Presidential Palace military camp drove out of the camp. Five tanks, following emergency procedures, stopped at the entrance of the Presidential Palace, which was as magnificent as Pennsylvania Avenue. Three tanks turned their treads and began heading towards the Presidential Hotel with a tut tut tut.

This is my home turf.

Daniel Whitehall sneered and directly authorized, "Enemy detected, fire immediately."

It was only reasonable for him to retaliate against enemies engaging in terrorist activities in his territory.

He had operated in this place for so many years; the military was his private army and his final barrier.

Civilian casualties?

Condemn the terrorists.

A bunch of commoners. It was perfect, saving him the trouble of replacing them village by village. After this was over, he would completely finish the less than one-third replacement he had left, fully realizing his great ideal of being the nation.

Since emerging from the Clone Base, Dr. Merrick had no idea that he had established his own clone base here, used to clone himself and to clone citizens who had loyalty to him ingrained in their subconscious.

Moreover…

What he achieved was far more than simple cloning. The Daniel Whitehall outside was him, and the Daniel Whitehall here was also him. As long as he wished, anyone he cloned could be him.

Lake’s clones directly blasted their way out of the hotel with gunfire.

Just then.

"Fire!"

"Boom!"

The eleven clones instantly returned to the hotel. With a boom, shells landed at the hotel entrance, creating a massive crater with an earthquake-like tremor.

Fast reaction.

Lake raised an eyebrow and, with a thought, brought the eleven clones with him via the stairwell. The clones moved with phantom-like speed, appearing on the hotel’s top floor in less than five seconds.

Bang!

Lake kicked open the protective netting on the top floor.

Do you know what it means when a regular player meets a pay-to-win player? They can only call him grandpa.

No?

Today, I’ll tell you.

"On the rooftop!"

Rumble!

Tanks on the street immediately rotated their turrets, adjusting their firing angles to target the rooftop.

Ding!

A coin appeared in Lake’s hand.

He tossed it into the air!

It landed!

Lake aimed down at the tanks on the street. As the coin fell, reaching the level of his right hand, he flicked his thumb to fire!

Railgun!

Boom!

Twelve railgun blasts, accompanied by brilliant light, shot out and converged into three beams.

The tanks over there also fired!

But…

What good does that do?

Boom!

Three powerful railgun blasts instantly struck a tank, blowing a massive hole through it in a flash. The projectiles continued with undiminished force, carving a perfectly circular, deep trench in the ground along their trajectory.

The battle was over before it began.

If a pay-to-win player doesn’t play as a berserker assassin, but as a regular assassin, then what’s the point of paying?

"What?"

Lake’s mind raced as he glanced at a drone about five hundred meters away, perched high up. Wearing a custom V-shaped mask, Lake made a throat-slitting gesture, then drew his gun with his right hand.

Bang!

The drone was instantly shot down.

In the Presidential Palace, Daniel Whitehall rose from his luxurious presidential chair, his face grim. He gritted his teeth and said, "Kill them, no matter the cost."