Conan: Begins to collaborate with Miss Bayonetta and become famous

Chapter 802: Change of plan, prepare to escape!

The truck suddenly made a sharp turn and headed into a deep and narrow alley.

The walls on both sides seemed to be squeezing in, and the car body rubbed violently against the rough bricks and stones, splashing out dazzling sparks and making teeth-grinding scraping sounds.

The width of the alley was just right to accommodate the truck, as if it was tailor-made for it.

The SWAT team followed closely behind the truck driven by the drunk driver, like a thorn in the flesh.

"squeak--!"

The screeching of brakes cut through the air.

Baijiu braked precisely at the designated rendezvous point, and its massive body was like a boulder, instantly blocking the exit of the alley.

"Give me a hand!" Baijiu said softly, unbuckled his seat belt, and gestured to Mojito in the passenger seat.

The two men exerted force at the same time, raised their legs high, and placed their palms on the handrail above as a fulcrum. Their calf muscles were tense, ready to go.

"one!"

"two!"

"three!"

"Hua La!" As the command came down, the two of them kicked their feet at the same time.

The hard bulletproof car window glass finally couldn't bear the weight and shattered.

Almost at the same time, sharp sirens sounded from afar, and the SWAT team stopped abruptly behind the truck.

The sirens of "Ding-ling-ling-ding-ling" echoed wildly in the narrow alley, deafening.

Time was running out, and the two men moved as fast as lightning, grabbing the wipers, pressing their bodies against the hood, carefully avoiding the sharp steel parts around the headlights, and sliding down to the ground nimbly.

Without even looking back, they ran towards the corner ahead.

There, two cool-looking and powerful motorcycles are quietly lurking.

The two men quickly put on gloves, straddled the car, and turned the accelerator.

"Buzz!" Mojito's vehicle let out a low roar. He kicked the ground hard and the motorcycle shot out like an arrow and disappeared at the alley entrance in an instant.

But there was a problem with the liquor.

No matter how he turned the throttle, the motorcycle under him was like a sleeping beast, with no response.

The huge headlights were stubbornly off, and the engine was making a faint "buzz...buzz...buzz..." sound.

Like the cough of a dying old man, the sound became weaker and weaker.

The footsteps and shouts of the police behind were becoming clearer and closer.

Baijiu didn't understand French, but the violent "bang bang bang!" sounds coming from the rear cargo box instantly alerted him - the police were clinging to the car door and jumping onto the roof.

If the engine fails to start, he will be trapped.

Baijiu glanced at the empty alley and cursed in his heart: Mojito... this guy ran so fast without even looking back.

At this time, on the streets of Paris.

Mojito, who was speeding, seemed to have noticed something was wrong.

His brows furrowed, he controlled the car with one hand, and suddenly turned his head to look back: "Strange, where is the liquor guy?"

He immediately pressed the microphone: "Baijiu! Where are you? What happened?"

In the alley, Baijiu was still trying in vain to turn the accelerator, his body slightly tilted, and he was scanning the top of the truck vigilantly - the police might climb over at any time.

He forced himself to remain calm and responded calmly: "Don't wait for me."

"Huh?!" Mojito was confused. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Stop! Don't move!" Two policemen had already climbed onto the roof of the truck, the black muzzles of their guns pointed directly at Baijiu's head, and shouted sternly: "I'll say it again! Don't move!"

"Buzz buzz buzz!" At this critical moment, the long-awaited roar of the engine finally broke out, like a sleeping beast being awakened.

Baijiu's eyes flashed, and he instantly stepped on the accelerator to the bottom, his eyes fixed on the front like torches!

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The bullet whizzed in and hit the motorcycle's fuel tank.

Baijiu curled up the corner of his mouth in a sneer, and exerted force with his arms. The front of the car instantly lifted up high, and then the car body tilted towards the ground. His face was almost touching the cold concrete floor, only ten centimeters away.

The bullets whizzed past the fuel tank and the car body, hitting the wall and splashing sparks.

"Buzz!" The motorcycle burst out at an astonishing speed like a beast that broke free from its restraints, turning into an arrow and disappearing into the astonished eyes of the police.

In the alley, only a few hot bullet casings were left, clinking on the cold ground.

On the Seine River, two black police speedboats cut through the water, stirring up white waves, and were speeding towards the place where Ryan fell into the water.

The gray-white speedboat driven by McCarran passed by them.

He held the steering wheel with one hand, looking calm and composed, ignoring the police boat whizzing past, with a look of "it's none of my business" written all over his face.

Old Black, who was in the passenger seat, was even more relaxed. He raised his right hand with interest and waved towards the people on the police boat, as if he was greeting his neighbors, looking very relaxed.

On the streets, liquor is selling like hotcakes.

The strong wind blew his hair upside down, like a Super Saiyan.

He switched the channel on his headset, not caring about inhaling the cold air and howling wind, and asked hurriedly, "McAllen! Can you hear me?"

McCarron tapped the headset with his finger and immediately responded, "Got it! What's up?"

"The plan has changed. I've been exposed and need to escape urgently!" Baijiu gave the order.

"Understood!" McLaren's answer was concise and powerful. Before he finished speaking, the steering wheel was suddenly turned in the direction of the liquor.

On the other side, Mojito was driving slowly on the streets of Paris.

He was calm and composed, his movements smooth, and he blended completely into the traffic. To anyone who looked at him, he looked like an ordinary local resident taking a ride, with no sign of being a wanted criminal.

However, in the shadows not far behind him, a motorcycle was quietly following.

It was the mysterious female rider who had been hiding behind the police convoy.

At the same time, a truck pulled up on a relatively quiet roadside. The cargo door swung open with a clang, and dozens of burly men in plain clothes filed out.

The leader was a man wearing sunglasses. He gave a quick command through the walkie-talkie in his hand: "The target is heading from the direction of Notre Dame Cathedral towards the St. Louis Bridge!"

"All teams! Make the arrest immediately!"

The order was given and the group took action immediately.

Several brand-new black BMWs were already waiting by the roadside. Even before their doors were fully closed, their engines roared, their tires scraped against the ground as they sped off towards their target.

Liquor is flowing like crazy on the streets of Paris, as if playing a real-life version of GTA5.

Facing the intersection with a red light and heavy traffic ahead, he was not afraid and stepped on the accelerator to the bottom.

At the moment of crashing into traffic, he suddenly pulled the front of the car and lifted the front wheels high.

In countless thrilling moments when the motorcycle could have been knocked away, it passed by like a juggler.

Without a moment's respite, the liquor truck turned and rushed into a one-way street next to it, continuing to speed desperately against the flow of traffic.

However, the police had already predicted his route.

At the intersection ahead, several police cars stretched out like behemoths from the abyss, forming an impenetrable steel barrier.

Devouring him.