Ribs groped in the cold, dirty sewer for more than ten minutes.
Finally, he quietly came under a manhole cover and gently pushed it open a gap.
That's right! Just outside is a corner of the IRS's vast backyard!
Shrouded in the gray dusk of early winter, a few cold white searchlights pierced the gloom, illuminating the empty space in a semi-darkness. In the distance, the low, sturdy silhouette of the building resembled a dormant giant.
Thanks to his homeless outfit, he didn't attract any attention as he slithered through the shadows and out of the manhole.
When the patrol searchlight swept over the place where he had just hidden, he was already clinging to the cold and rough concrete wall, truly blending into the shadow of the building.
The place here is not small, and Ribs must quickly find where Sterling is hiding.
Just then, a heavy door in the staff passage was pushed open - a maid was pushing a cleaning cart and had just finished cleaning a certain area.
Opportunity cannot be missed.
Ribs was like a silent lightning, and at the moment she closed the door and was about to push the cart away, he pounced on her from behind!
A large hand that smelled of sewage sludge and rust tightly covered her mouth and nose, while the other arm strangled her slender waist and arms like an iron hoop. The enormous force suffocated her instantly, and she couldn't even whimper.
"Woo!!!" Terror instantly overwhelmed her.
He slammed her and the cleaning cart into the darkness of the storage room she had just come out of.
The door slammed shut behind him, blocking out the cold light and air outside.
The small space was filled with mops, buckets, and cleaning agents, and the smell was pungent.
"Tell me where Sterling is," Reeves' voice was low, cold, and full of unquestionable murderous intent, close to her ear, "Tell me, and I will let you go. If you dare to play tricks... you will die." He loosened his hand covering her mouth a little to allow her to breathe and speak, but the tightening force did not relax at all.
The maid was shaking all over. "Don't... don't kill me..." She almost cried out, "Director Sterling... he's in the innermost... deepest... Room 101... there are special security guards... from... from here you have to go through several main halls... and... there's also a central surveillance corridor... you can't get through like this... you'll be discovered immediately..."
Room 101!
The lair of IRS Commissioner Bill Sterling! The man who had caused this storm, made him lose everything, and whom he wanted to kill as soon as possible!
Ribs took a look at the fire map in the storage room. The route from here was indeed complicated, with layers of checkpoints.
I looked like a homeless man who had just crawled out of the sewer and was emitting a foul smell, and it was really difficult for me to move forward.
Ribs's eyes scanned the maid's dark, relatively neat uniform—dark coat, white apron, matching skirt and black stockings, and the small white headscarf.
An idea struck him and he said, "Take it off."
"Wha...what?" The maid thought she had misheard.
"Clothes! All of them! Now!" Ribs' voice was filled with impatience and ferocity. The force of his arms made her vision black. "Don't let me do it! Otherwise, you will never wear them again."
Under the absolute threat of death and the enormous pressure of force, the maid surrendered in humiliation and fear.
In the small, dark storage room, she sobbed and trembled as she took off her uniform jacket, apron, and skirt... until only her shivering underwear was left.
Without hesitation, Ribs took off his tattered clothes that reeked of sewers and threw them in the corner.
He quickly and roughly grabbed the maid's dark coat, skirt and white apron, which still retained her body temperature, and put them on himself.
Her muscular body looked strange and tight in the maid outfit, and the short skirt could only barely cover her thighs.
He tied the apron string tightly to cover his overly muscular waist and chest. Finally, he grabbed the small white headscarf and, somewhat clumsily, pressed it against his slightly messy hair, which was stained with mud and blood, trying to lower his head.
The half face under the shadow of the hat brim, the traces of unshaven beard and the cold eyes still revealed a terrifying aura, but at least from a distance there was a layer of rough disguise.
He didn't look at the maid who was huddled in the corner and almost collapsed. Instead, he glanced at the cart - perhaps it was the best cover.
He took a deep breath, suppressing the surging murderous intent and the strange feeling in his body.
Ribbs pushed open the door of the storage room and stood in the cold light again.
He lowered his head, imitating the slightly inward-moving walking posture of women in his memory, and pushed the cleaning cart with somewhat stiff and awkward, but barely steady steps, walking step by step towards the deepest part of the IRS building, Room 101, which symbolized the core of power and destruction.
Under the cover of night, no one noticed Reeves pushing the cleaning cart. After all, the Secret Service agents were all paying attention to the outside. Who would have thought that Reeves would appear in their lair at this moment!
Ribs came to the door of Room 101 and found that the light inside was slightly on.
He went up and knocked on the door.
The door was opened a crack, and a man in a butler's uniform showed half of his face.
Seeing the overly burly man in a maid's uniform, the butler's pupils shrank suddenly, and his face was instantly filled with vigilance and confusion: "You? Who are you? Why are you wearing this..."
“Ugh—!”
Before the question was finished, Reeves' left hand shot out like lightning, grabbing the butler's throat with incredible precision, strangling the rest of his words in his throat! The enormous force almost crushed his larynx, and the butler suffocated instantly. His eyeballs bulged, his face flushed purple, and his feet left the ground, kicking in vain.
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