America: Starting with Daily Intelligence
Chapter 128 - 117: Drawing the Sword_2

Chapter 128: Chapter 117: Drawing the Sword_2

Opening the window for a look, the driver was a Black person.

The plainclothes officers from the Special Action Bureau beside them immediately moved in inconspicuously.

The Black driver, upon seeing an officer stopping him, felt a bit uneasy and forced himself to stay calm as he said, "Good afternoon, officer, may I ask which driving law I’ve violated?"

"I’m Officer Romi from the Southern Branch and this is my colleague Rod. The reason for stopping you is that your vehicle’s window tinting is too dark. Sir, please show your ID document. What’s in this car?"

The patrol officer took out his own credentials, indicating a lawful stop, and took the opportunity to ask for and request the other party’s driving documents.

Not wanting to cause any trouble, the Black driver’s hands did not dare leave the steering wheel for even a moment, "Oh, there’s just some ordinary pork in the car, nothing serious. Officer, there’s a problem with this car’s refrigeration system, I really can’t open the trunk for you to check, because once the cold air leaks, this batch of pork might spoil, and I can’t take that responsibility."

"Is that so? Please get out of the car and cooperate with the investigation." The patrol officer completely ignored his request, "I suspect you’re carrying illegal items in your car. Are there any concealed weapons inside your cabin?"

The Black driver was so anxious that sweat broke out. The officer next to him was eyeing him fiercely, with one hand never leaving his Glock 17 pistol.

"Alright, I can get out, but my hands have to leave the steering wheel temporarily. I also need to call my boss first to tell him about the trouble I’m in," the Black driver compromised.

"Ok," the officer nodded in agreement.

The next moment, seeing the Black driver’s hand bending down and hiding, he quickly shouted loudly, drawing his gun and pressing it against his face, "Hey! What are you doing?"

"I... I’m getting my phone..." The Black driver was startled, sweating profusely, under immense pressure.

"Put your hands where we can see them! Quick!" the officer shouted.

"But then I won’t be able to unbuckle my seatbelt and get my phone," the Black driver said with a sense of grievance.

"Raise your hands! Get out of the car!"

"Sir, I need to reach to unbuckle my seatbelt..."

"I said! Get out of the car!!"

The argument continued, both sides were agitated and unrelenting.

The Black driver was infuriated, slammed on the gas pedal, and drove the vehicle violently out of there, "Fxxk you! Eat shit! Damn white-skinned officer!"

He pulled out the pistol hidden under the seat, leaned out the window, and fired several shots in rapid succession!!

"Shots fired! Shots fired!!" The patrol officers were taken aback, luckily avoided danger, with the bullets just grazing past their heads. They took out the radio to call for backup.

Officers from the Special Action Bureau who were already lying in ambush didn’t say a word, drew their weapons, and burst out from all directions, firing a storm of bullets!!

Old Black had just driven the refrigerated truck out of the intersection when it was hit like it was riddled with Gatling gun fire, the glass shattered, the tires deflated, and with the steering wheel out of control, it crashed into a roadblock, the hood and bumper instantly crumpled!

The whole truck flipped on the spot and slid a great distance, sparks flying and parts scattering everywhere!

The officers continued to fire relentlessly!!

Damn, what a gunfight!

Allen Zhang and the others were hiding far away, watching this scene, couldn’t help but feel that this is the level of professionalism of Los Angeles officers. It was good that they didn’t rashly confront those criminals head-on.

Free America, gunfights every day.

From start to finish, the whole incident was over in just a few hundred bullets. Los Angeles officers were unharmed and successfully took down the criminals, finding refrigerated pork laced with drugs and traces of drug-smuggling residue in the refrigerated truck.

The Black driver was also quite lucky; an examination revealed that although he had been hit by 23 bullets, he was still lively and kicking with an unusually strong vital sign.

After being arrested by the officers, he was crying and confessing his guilt, begging to call for an ambulance to save himself as he did not want to die. In hopes of a lighter sentence, he ratted out his boss and downstream contacts in a heartbeat.

The officers immediately reported to the dispatch center and began to deploy and organize a capture of the people responsible for the canning factory, setting a trap to catch this group of smugglers.

With Lawyer Dave present, their sentences started at at least 200 years!

But only the living have the right to sit in prison.

Those pork guys still thinking of hiring people for retaliation? Ridiculous, what era are they living in that they still consider hiring hitmen, all violent and bloody, when their own butts aren’t clean? How dare they jump around like that?

To make it in this world, you need power, backing, and weapons that can strike from a different dimension.

Well, isn’t it good now? The details determine success or failure; when the underling gets into trouble, even his hometown and partners are going to be caught in one sweep, causing both upstream and downstream to suffer.

Not even knowing how they got into this mess.

Allen Zhang was in a good mood.

But it quickly became less so.

Because Sieg’s phone displayed an unknown call coming through, which, upon answering, the person on the line directly addressed him by name, "Hey! Sieg Comprey? Murderer, hello!"

Sieg: "I’m not."

"Stop pretending, you are!"

"Who are you?" Allen Zhang took the phone from Sieg to ask.

"Who I am is none of your business. And who are you?"

"Juan Jin."

"Juan Jin? Hamburg? Hahaha, I heard that you are now the boss of Lori Louis 19, aren’t you? Would you be interested in attending a boxing match? The winner can receive a prize of 150 US Dollars!"

"I’m not interested."

Allen Zhang rejected it outright. 150 US Dollars, are you kidding me? Although we indeed are...