Lust System: Conquering the World Beauties-Chapter 374 Accidental Luck II

Chapter 374: Chapter 374 Accidental Luck II
The lobby went silent again.
Then, the sound of boots. Five men stepped out of the shadows, their masks all different, their guns raised. Each one carried an assault rifle, the kind that sprayed lead without thinking.
Vanessa’s eyes flicked across them. Five.
She did the math in her head immediately. They’d already taken down three. That made eight. And the police had said ten in total. Which should have left only two more.
But behind those five, more voices echoed deeper in the bank. Metal clanging. Boots shuffling.
Her jaw clenched. The intel was off.
Dickson raised his hands slowly. "Wait. Hold on." He counted them on his fingers like a kid failing math class. Then he looked at Vanessa. "Didn’t the police say there were ten of these assholes?"
"Yeah." Her voice was low, flat.
Dickson squinted. "Three down already. That should mean seven left. Not five here plus whatever the hell that noise is inside."
His chest rose and fell fast. His eyes darted between the men, then back to Vanessa. He whispered through his teeth. "Fuck me. And fuck the police intelligence."
The leader of the five smirked under his mask. He didn’t wait for more words.
He opened fire.
Muzzle flashes lit up the lobby like fireworks.
Vanessa shoved Dickson down behind a half-broken desk, bullets shredding the wall above their heads. Plaster rained down.
"Stay low!" she barked.
"Yeah, no shit!" Dickson shouted back, covering his head with his arms.
Vanessa didn’t hesitate. She teleported, reappearing behind the first gunman. Her boot cracked against his knee, folding it sideways with a sick snap. Before he could scream, she grabbed his head and slammed it into the marble wall. He dropped like a sack of bricks.
The other four pivoted, rifles swinging toward her.
Dickson panicked. His arms shot out on instinct. Lightning spat from his palms, but wild, uncontrolled. It didn’t hit anyone. Just blew apart a lamp and blackened the ceiling.
"Great, you redecorated," Vanessa snapped, ducking behind a pillar as bullets chased her.
"Sorry!" Dickson yelled.
She teleported again, appearing in the middle of two men. She struck one’s wrist, snapping it and forcing the rifle to the ground, then kicked the other across the chest. He stumbled, firing wild rounds that chewed up the floor.
Dickson peeked out from cover. One gunman had turned toward him, rifle aimed dead on.
"Oh shit."
Dickson flung his hands forward, electricity sparking again. This time it hit — but barely. The bolt clipped the rifle, frying the scope. The man staggered, weapon smoking in his hands.
"Okay," Dickson muttered, chest heaving. "That was on purpose. Totally on purpose."
The guy roared, unfazed, and kept firing. Bullets ripped across the desk, splinters exploding around Dickson.
Vanessa reappeared behind him, driving her elbow into his spine. He collapsed forward, wheezing. She swept up his gun and smashed it across his skull. Out cold.
Two down. Three still up.
But they weren’t backing off.
Gunfire thundered across the marble, echoing in sharp cracks. Windows shattered, desks splintered. The air was filled with dust, gunpowder, and the sharp sting of ozone from Dickson’s electricity.
Vanessa crouched low, breathing heavy, sweat dripping down her temple. Her eyes flicked to Dickson, who was still crouched uselessly behind the shredded desk.
"Get up!" she barked.
"What?!"
"Fight, damn it!"
He swallowed, nodding fast. His legs shook as he scrambled out, electricity dancing faintly across his palms. His aim was bad, his stance worse. But he forced himself to stand.
One of the remaining men opened fire. Dickson yelped, diving sideways. A bullet grazed his shoulder, tearing fabric, leaving a red line across his skin.
He hit the ground hard.
For a second, everything froze for him. The gunshots blurred into a dull roar. Pain throbbed in his arm. He wanted to curl up, to stay down, to let Vanessa do the impossible alone.
But her voice cut through the noise.
"Dickson!"
He looked up. She was still fighting, still moving, her figure a blur as she teleported in and out, fists cracking bone and boots shattering ribs. But she was outnumbered, the angles bad. She couldn’t cover everything.
He couldn’t hide.
Gritting his teeth, Dickson shoved himself up, electricity humming stronger now. Fear still owned him, but something else pushed through — the need to at least try.
He staggered forward, raising his hands. Lightning cracked outward, brighter this time, blasting a gun clean out of one robber’s hands.
The man cursed, clutching his burned palm.
Vanessa finished the job, teleporting in and dropping him with a spinning kick to the skull.
That made three defeated.
The other two regrouped, tighter formation now, rifles steady, eyes sharp. They weren’t careless like the others.
They spread out, cutting off angles, boxing Vanessa and Dickson in.
The muzzle of one rifle locked on Dickson again.
He froze, eyes wide.
Vanessa teleported in front of him, a glowing bullet slicing past her shoulder. She winced but kept standing, her glare burning behind the mask.
"Don’t stop moving," she hissed.
Dickson nodded, his face pale, sweat dripping down his neck.
The lobby was wrecked.
Shell casings littered the marble. Smoke curled from shattered lamps, glass crunched under boots. The groans of the unconscious men they’d put down hung faintly in the air.
But two were still standing.
These weren’t like the others. No panic in their eyes, no sloppy rush. They moved sharp, precise, like trained muscle. One had a scar cutting through his jawline. The other kept his gun steady as if it were part of his arm.
Vanessa cursed under her breath. "Of course the last two are the serious ones."
Dickson leaned on the bullet-torn desk, chest heaving, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. He forced a nervous laugh. "Hey, uh... maybe they’ll just quit? Y’know... run away?"
Scar-jaw smiled through his mask. "Not a chance."
The rifles came up.
Vanessa teleported instantly, but these two had reflexes. They didn’t spray wild. They tracked. Bullets chased her like they had eyes, cutting across her teleport trail. One clipped her shoulder, spinning her mid-step before she vanished again.
She reappeared behind them, leg whipping out. Scar-jaw caught her kick with his forearm, grunted, then drove a punch straight at her ribs.
The hit connected, hard. Vanessa gasped, staggering back.
"Vanessa!" Dickson yelled, voice cracking.
The second gunman wheeled on him, rifle spitting bullets. Dickson panicked, threw his hands up. Lightning exploded outward in a messy arc. The floor blackened, sparks showering everywhere. By some miracle, the man stumbled back, blinded just long enough for Dickson to dive behind a fallen column.
"Okay," Dickson muttered to himself, clutching his burned palm. "Still alive. Still alive. Totally fine."
Vanessa didn’t answer. She was locked in hand-to-hand with Scar-jaw. He swung with brutal precision, fists like hammers. She ducked, twisted, teleported short distances to dodge blows, but he adjusted fast. He wasn’t just brawn — he had timing.
His elbow caught her cheek, snapping her head sideways. Blood sprayed from her lip.
She teleported again, reappearing behind him, fists slamming into his kidney. He growled but didn’t fall. Instead, he turned, grabbed her by the collar mid-blink, and hurled her across the room.
She crashed into the marble, coughing hard.
Dickson peeked out, eyes wide. "Oh, hell no—"
Then he realized the second gunman was circling toward him, rifle steady.
"Shit, shit, shit!"
Dickson bolted, sprinting across the wreckage. Bullets tore past, one grazing his leg. Pain flared but fear pushed him faster. He tripped over a chair, hit the ground, rolled. Sparks shot from his hands as he screamed.
The electricity blasted upward, catching the gunman in the chest. The man convulsed, rifle firing wild bursts into the ceiling before he collapsed, twitching.
"Holy crap," Dickson whispered, staring at the smoking body. "Did I just...? I did. I totally did. Oh my god."
"Don’t celebrate yet!" Vanessa shouted.
She was back on her feet, facing Scar-jaw again. Her breaths came hard and ragged. Blood dripped from her nose, her lip split open.
Scar-jaw wasn’t slowing down. He came at her like a machine, fists swinging heavy and sharp. Vanessa blocked with her forearms, countered with sharp elbows and knees, teleported inches at a time to slip away.
But he wouldn’t drop.
"Dickson!" she barked.
He flinched. "Me? What the hell do you want me to do?!"
"Anything!"
Scar-jaw slammed a punch into Vanessa’s stomach. She gagged, doubled over.
Dickson panicked again, ran forward, sparks flashing around his arms. He didn’t think, just shoved both hands against Scar-jaw’s back.
The lightning surged.
Scar-jaw roared, spinning, fist swinging. His punch connected with Dickson’s jaw, sending him sprawling across the floor. But the electricity stuck, crackling over Scar-jaw’s muscles, forcing him to twitch and stumble.
Vanessa seized the moment. She teleported behind him, locked her arm around his neck, and dragged him back with all her weight. Her knee slammed into the back of his leg, buckling it.
He thrashed, tried to throw her off, but she squeezed tighter, teeth gritted, blood running from her nose.
"Sleep," she hissed.
It took everything — all her strength, all her pain. But finally, his movements slowed, then stopped. His body slumped forward, crashing to the floor with a heavy thud.
Silence.
For the first time since they stepped in, there were no bullets, no shouts. Just the ringing in their ears and their ragged breaths.
Vanessa staggered back, clutching her ribs, spitting blood onto the marble. She looked at Dickson, who was flat on the ground, blinking up at the ceiling.
"You alive?" she asked, voice hoarse.
He groaned, rolling to his side. "Barely. My face feels like it got hit by a truck."
She wiped her mouth, shook her head. "Welcome to the job."
For a moment, neither moved. Just gasps, groans, and the faint crackle of Dickson’s leftover electricity fizzing out in the air.
Then Vanessa forced herself upright. She staggered toward him, yanked him up by the arm.
"On your feet. We’re not done."
Dickson winced, nearly falling again. "Seriously? I thought that was it!"
"No. That was just the front."
Her eyes flicked toward the heavy doors deeper into the bank. Shadows moved beyond them. Voices carried. More men. More danger.
Dickson swallowed, throat dry. "Oh, fuck me."
She smirked faintly, despite the blood on her teeth. "You’re already fucked. Come on."