Counterstrike

Among the thugs, two were indeed the hands that had snuffed out the life of the Chinese chef that fateful night.

"Damn it, Darwin, you think you're tough now, trying to get revenge on us?" one thug shouted, marching toward him with a stream of curses.

"Look who we have here, our dear Darwin?" the wounded thug, a tough guy even with one hand pressed against his bleeding arm, glared at Darwin with venomous hate.

"What's wrong, heard your yellow-skinned daddy's dead, cried a lot, huh?"

"Hey, I've been thinking, we shouldn't have killed that cook, I miss those free delicious meals."

Their mocking words flooded Darwin's mind. Then, through his earpiece, Nicole's icy voice commanded: "Show him your worth."

The "him" she referred to was undoubtedly Aiden.

Darwin, as if seeing a lifeline, frantically looked up to see the old car parked in the distance.

Scrambling to his feet, Darwin dashed forward, only to be kicked to the ground. The cold gun lay within reach; he grabbed it, turned, and aimed at the thug who had kicked him.

The red-bandana-wearing thug froze, staring down the barrel of the gun, daring not to move a muscle.

Darwin's heart leapt with the hope of escape, but then the unexpected happened.

The tough guy with the bleeding arm, undeterred, shouldered past the others, stepping toward Darwin. He knew Darwin well: "What's it going to be? You gonna shoot? Like you did just now? Come on, pull the trigger, you cowardly bastard, do it!"

He understood Darwin too well, realizing the gunshot wound on his arm wasn't Darwin's doing, but from someone in the hasty retreat of the dilapidated car. He knew Darwin was too cowardly to have ever truly taken a stand in his life.

In the distance, Nicole watched through the rearview mirror, frowning as she saw the thug kick Darwin down. In the end, the cowardly Darwin failed to pull the trigger.

Life seemed to resume its cruel course as Darwin curled up, covering his head, enduring a near-mad beating—just as he had for over twenty years. Why should anything change now?

Nicole's furrowed brow relaxed, her expression returning to impassive as she watched a life ebb away in the rearview mirror. This beating was more than a "lesson"; the thugs were truly enraged with Darwin this time.

Aiden sat silently, listening to the chaotic sounds in his earpiece and Nicole's cold words, piecing together the situation.

Sometimes her icy heart even gave Aiden chills. Perhaps this was the resolve a true survivor should have, the qualities displayed by someone who has truly faced death.

Nicole seemed unwilling to witness the inevitable outcome any longer. She started the car and gently pressed the accelerator.

Darwin, amidst a brutal beating, saw the car that symbolized hope slowly drive away, his eyes revealing a glimmer of despair.

"If your father only taught you how to endure, he probably foresaw your current plight. Maybe he's watching you from somewhere, proud. After all, you're just like him, identical. Stop trying to repay your debt, and stop seeking revenge. Follow in your father's footsteps and leave this world; he won't blame you," Aiden said gravely, removing his earpiece with a shake of his head and a touch of frustration over the failed mission.

The success of mission after mission was the very essence of the "Winter Soldier's" existence.

What Aiden couldn't hear, but Nicole did, was the sound of a gunshot.

Nicole's foot jerked off the accelerator and slammed the brakes, shifting into reverse as the car sped backward.

She turned and fired through the shattered rear window, surveying the chaotic crowd.

One thug was on the ground, clutching his thigh and cursing vehemently.

The others kicked away the gun from Darwin's hand. In that moment, more than two decades of conditioning shattered; Darwin had finally picked up the gun from beneath him and pulled the trigger in panic.

"Damn you, die!" a thug bellowed, incredulous that Darwin had fought back. Tired of the beating and wary of the attention the gunshot would bring, the nature of the street fight had changed. Even in their controlled territory, they couldn't act with impunity, especially during these sensitive times. The thug wanted to quell his rage with Darwin's death.

The cat-and-mouse game was over; it was time to bare fangs. Unfortunately, those fangs were silenced by a bullet to the temple before they could fully emerge.

The gang realized too late the retreating car was the source of their demise. A bloody shootout seemed imminent, but they fell one by one, their eyes wide with the unknown as death claimed them.

Darwin, consciousness fading, no longer felt the punches and kicks, only the distant screams and thuds of falling bodies.

Struggling to lift his head, he saw the old car stop before him, the passenger door opened by a familiar hand. That car seemed to be the only way out, possibly his only choice.

Dragging his bleeding body, Darwin inched toward the car, mere feet away. As his hand touched the door, his strength gave out, and he looked on hopelessly at the short distance that seemed like miles.

Nicole regarded the dark handprint on the ground emotionlessly as she stepped out of the car. Darwin heard the approaching footsteps; through his blurred vision, he saw a black boot step in front of him, then a hand gripped his aching arm. At last, Darwin's head drooped, and he passed out, relieved.

At last, he was saved.

Nicole's face showed no pity, but her actions were gentle as she carefully helped Darwin into the car. Perhaps she respected Darwin's recent choice.

After all, to earn respect from others, one must first respect oneself.

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