“Ding-dong. Ladies and gentlemen, good evening. Our flight is expected to land at Yangon International Airport in about 30 minutes...”
The flight attendant’s announcement echoed through the cabin, first in Burmese, then followed by a Chinese translation.
Half-asleep, Samantha Lévesque blinked her eyes open slowly, the voice still swirling in her ears. She glanced at her watch—9:30 PM. Looked like they’d land on schedule.
She figured it’d take around 45 minutes to get through the airport. Another 30 to reach the hotel. All in all, she’d make it in time.
10:40 PM.
Dragging her luggage, Samantha stepped out of the terminal.
She frowned slightly. The customs check had taken longer than expected. It was already creeping up on 11 PM. She paused for a moment to ease her stiff shoulders, eyes scanning the darkness ahead.
Her phone buzzed with a notification.
After checking the message, she headed toward Exit A.
Once she got to the spot, she pulled out her phone to call the hotel shuttle. The call barely rang before someone picked up.
“Hello? Are you Ms. Samantha Lévesque? I’m at Exit A. Black business van, license plate ****. Can you see me?”
The Mandarin wasn’t smooth, but she could get the gist.
“Yes, that’s me. I’m in a white top, pink hair, right across from you,” she replied, waving her hand to the opposite side of the street. Sure enough, she spotted the van with the matching plate.
The driver glanced over, quickly spotted her in the crowd. Pink curls, tall and slender, white tracksuit, a mask covering half her face—not exactly hard to pick out.
“Hi, miss. I’m the driver from the Lanya Hotel,” he said.
After confirming the details, Samantha handed over her luggage and hopped into the back seat.
They’d spent a bit longer than planned, and by the time they pulled onto the road, it was 11:10.
"Think we’ll get to the hotel in thirty minutes?" she asked, checking her watch and looking up toward the front seat.
“Yeah, sure thing. Roads are pretty empty at night. We’ll make it before curfew, no problem,” the driver replied confidently.
Samantha nodded, feeling a bit more at ease.
It was her first time here, and she’d heard all kinds of stories about the curfews—how strict they were, how no one was allowed to be out past a certain time, not even cars.
She'd been to plenty of places, but this one still carried a certain… weight. Probably thanks to all the bad press online.
Outside the window, the city seemed quiet. Most shops were dark, shutters down. Hardly any cars passed by. A few dim streetlights cast a weak glow over the road. Honestly, it didn’t look that different from any other city.
Maybe a little underdeveloped, sure—but even that felt exaggerated. Samantha glanced at the overpasses and roads. It looked decently built-up. Way better than she’d imagined.
“Hey, the city doesn’t feel anything like what people say,” she remarked casually. For all the nerves she had earlier, it really wasn’t that scary after all.
The driver chuckled. “Yangon’s way different from northern Myanmar. It’s relatively safe here. Most locals are pretty kind. It’s usually the foreign visitors who get involved in… well, sketchy stuff.”
Samantha gave a knowing nod. She understood exactly what he meant.
He wasn’t wrong. Out here, it was smart to trust no one.After chatting casually with the driver for a bit, it was already around 11:40 PM when the car entered the city. The streets were dead empty—not a single person, not a single car. The whole place felt eerily deserted.
That didn’t sit well with Samantha Lévesque. She figured if her self-defense skills weren’t decent, there’s no way she’d have dared to book such a late flight.
There were just a few kilometers left to the hotel, but she couldn’t shake off this unease. Her eyelids started twitching, and for some reason, her gut told her something was off.
Curfew was about to kick in any minute now.
As they pulled up to a red light and waited, Samantha’s ears caught a faint sound.
She’d trained in martial arts since she was a kid, so she picked up on these things faster than most.
“Did you hear that? Sounded like gunshots,” she said, frowning.
The driver shook his head. This area was supposed to be relatively safe—but yeah, it was almost midnight, and even he was starting to feel on edge. If the guest hadn’t booked the top presidential suite at the hotel, they usually didn’t bother with these late-night pickups.
Samantha’s heartbeat started picking up. The street was empty, the lights dim, and those faint pops in the distance were now making her palms sweat.
On Bahanroad Avenue—
“Young Master, our location’s been compromised. The folks from Poncha tracked us down,” the guy in the front passenger seat said anxiously, glancing back at the man behind him.
They’d just found out the Poncha guys had come to Yangon, but didn’t expect them to come straight for them like this.
“Step on it,” the man in the back ordered, his voice cold as ice. He swiftly swapped out the mag on his AKM.
His teammate beside him loaded his own clip, guns at the ready.
Gunfire from behind now and then clanged against the bulletproof glass, though not even a crack showed.
The driver slammed the gas pedal down, racing forward without a second thought.
The chasing vehicles were closing in fast.
Bang! Bang bang bang! A burst of gunfire popped, and suddenly, their rear tire blew out. The car slowed down almost instantly.
“They’re almost on us, sir!”
“Just keep going,” the man snapped, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror, the look in them sharp and dangerous.
Over on Natmaukroad—
The light turned green, but the car hadn’t moved yet.
Bang!
Bang bang bang!
Gunfire roared closer in an instant. Headlights from behind flickered wildly in the side mirror, cutting through the dark.
The driver’s hand trembled on the steering wheel. Samantha’s heart was pounding like crazy. Yup, definitely gunfire—no doubt about it.
Her hands clutched the car’s safety handle instinctively, cold sweat beading in her palms, her forehead damp.
Trying to calm herself, she forced a deep breath.
Then, seeing the driver momentarily frozen, she snapped, “Come on, drive! Gun it!”
Ahead was a wide open road, but in the mirror, the chasing cars were nearly on top of them. They had to outrun them, or they’d be toast.
Not wasting a second, she pulled up the hood of her sweatshirt, tucked all her hair inside, slapped on her baseball cap and mask—covering herself head to toe.
Sweat ran down the driver’s temples as he yanked the gear into drive, slammed the pedal, and the car shot forward.
They sped ahead like their lives depended on it.
Luckily the road was straight, and though some lights were far down the way, they weren’t close enough. Those bursts of gunfire kept pounding behind them—they had no choice but to go faster.
The driver floored it, pushing the engine to its absolute limit, but a business van still couldn’t outrun a jeep.
The engine’s roar mixed with the ring of gunfire, echoing sharply through the silent night.Samantha Lévesque stared at the jeep getting closer and closer, her heart thumping so fast it felt like it might just leap out of her throat.
Every bump of the tires and the engine’s roar echoed loud in the tension-soaked air, making everything feel even more nerve-wracking.
"Drive faster!" she urged, her eyes locked on the lights dashing behind them. There’s no mistaking it—someone back there was being hunted.
There were a lot of cars around, and it was getting seriously dangerous.
Did they just stumble into some real bad luck?
“Bang!”
“Bang bang bang!”
Suddenly, sharp gunfire cracked behind them. A moment later, tires screeched like nails on a chalkboard.
A car out back spiraled out of control, swerving like crazy. Their driver wrestled with the wheel, but it was no use—the car had a mind of its own and slammed right into the vehicle ahead.
Samantha felt the jolt. Her body lunged forward before the seatbelt yanked her back. One hand was clamped on the handle the whole time—thank god—otherwise she probably would’ve been thrown clear across the van.
The driver beside her hit the brakes hard, veering sideways. The tires screeched again as the car skidded and finally came to a near-drift stop at the edge of the road.
Debris and shattered glass scattered everywhere—it was a full wreck scene.
Out of nowhere, bullets started flying at them with that terrifying whistling sound, ruthless and deadly.
Samantha’s body went rigid from instinct. Her eyes tracked the bullets outside, full of panic and dread. Luckily, there was still some distance between them and the car behind.
Quickly, she undid her seatbelt and forced the driver down under his seat before ducking down herself.
The car that hit them also came to a screeching halt in the center of the road. Other cars that had been in the chase braked too, boxing it in.
Doors slammed open. A bunch of armed guys jumped out, all dressed in weird, mismatched gear. They were packing serious heat, and their faces showed zero emotion—just focused and cold.
Time felt like it froze. The sound of that jeep idling and the weapons cocked around them made the air heavy, like the whole street was holding its breath.
The driver next to her breathed in short, shaky bursts. You could see the panic taking over, all thoughts pushed out by the fear of dying.
Samantha didn’t move a muscle in the backseat. One wrong twitch and she’d probably be a goner.
The armed men spared a glance at their van. Just looked like a boring hotel shuttle—nothing special—so they ignored it.
Guns raised, they moved towards the car in the center. The guy in front rattled off something in a language Samantha didn’t understand, but the driver clearly caught the meaning.
“They want him alive,” he whispered, voice tight. “They’re gonna use him to trade for their boss.”
Everything went dead silent. So quiet it made your skin crawl.
Everyone circled around that one car, eyes glued to its windows.
Then—click—the window suddenly rolled down with a snap, breaking the stillness like glass shattering.
Gunfire exploded instantly. Bullets sprayed in every direction like a storm. The attackers outside didn’t even have time to react—screams, yells, chaos. Total meltdown.
Shots fired from all sides inside the car, and just like that, half the group outside dropped.
Metal pinged and sparked where bullets hit. The air reeked of burned powder. It was total pandemonium.
The rest of the gang scrambled for cover, ducking and dodging, trying to survive the ambush.
Fear and mayhem swallowed up the whole street. There was no way out.
