America: Starting with Daily Intelligence
Chapter 195 - 142 Small Town, Creating a Mythology

Chapter 195: Chapter 142 Small Town, Creating a Mythology

The sudden gunshot scared the Biker Gang witless, and they quickly crouched down, covering their heads. Bullets skimmed past their scalps, kicking dust into the air,

"oh shit! He’s shooting!!"

"It’s a submachine gun!!"

"Don’t shoot me! I’m innocent!"

"I think I’ve been shot! Ah!!"

They scurried with their heads down, the scene becoming instantly chaotic.

After a sweep of gunfire, the walls of the abandoned gas station were riddled with holes. Allen Zhang stopped shooting and blew the smoke away from the gun’s muzzle.

Looking at the yellow-haired guy who was now sitting paralyzed on the ground having peed himself, he asked with a laugh, "What were you saying just now? I didn’t catch that. Sorry, seems like I accidentally damaged your handgun? Please repeat that."

"I was wrong! Please, don’t kill me!" Yellow Hair shakily begged.

The ear-shattering gunfire at that moment had numbed his ears, his handgun was blown out of his hands by the bullet, and the web of his hand was grazed and bleeding profusely.

"Then disappear from my sight. Leave behind your cell phones and communication devices, and no riding off!" Allen Zhang waved his gun, feeling he hadn’t quite controlled his aim well; at such a short distance, he couldn’t suppress the gun? Luckily, he didn’t blow his head off.

Be more cautious next time.

"I don’t want to kill anyone today."

Hearing this, the Biker Gang felt a chill down their spines, thoroughly terrified.

They quickly scrambled up from the ground, piled their wallets and phones on the ground, and took off running without looking back, even losing their shoes.

Fearing they would be riddled with bullet holes if they didn’t run fast enough!

Sieg got out of the car and handled the scene, taking note of the bullet holes in the wall and the bloodstains on the ground, he felt puzzled, "This won’t be easy to deal with."

"If it can’t be handled, then don’t handle it. There’s nothing to worry about; no one will take the initiative to report to the police, and the officers won’t come to such a remote place to investigate. This sort of thing is not common in the city, but in the suburbs, it happens a lot! These guys aren’t good people, surely they won’t go to the police and turn themselves in."

Allen Zhang examined the three motorcycles; they were all old models, no telling how many hands they had passed through, but still looked decent on the outside. The tires were also severely worn. Were they worth maybe hundreds of dollars in the market?

"Let’s take them."

He hadn’t expected the extra windfall.

These guys were like the treasure-toting noobs in the wild, spawning like easy prey.

Sieg and Allen Zhang loaded the motorcycles on the Jeep, picked up the wallets to count, almost exactly $500. Not too bad, there was money to be made!

The gun was indeed damaged beyond value, disassembling would be a hassle, so Sieg simply removed the magazine, found a random spot, wiped the fingerprints clean, and threw it far into the dense forest! Destroying the evidence.

Returning, Allen Zhang had already started rummaging through the abandoned oil pipes, and Sieg joined in to help search. After some time, they finally found the cash wrapped in plastic film and oil paper bags inside an oil pipe stuffed with cardboard. There was also a Glock 17 Ghost Gun, fully loaded with ammunition.

The guns were handed over to Sieg for disposal.

Allen Zhang took the money, opened the oil paper bags to count the amount, not a single US Dollar was missing, feeling completely refreshed.

"Together with that $500, a total of $5000 in paper currency, plus those three vintage motorcycles, even if each is only worth $400, this has been quite a profitable haul."

Inheriting Black’s legacy, Allen Zhang felt cheerful.

Back in the car, they set the coordinates and embarked towards the next target location.

"Aren’t you tired anymore?"

All along the way, Allen Zhang showed no signs of wanting to rest, prompting Sieg to ask in surprise.

"I’m in high spirits right now," said Allen Zhang with a casual smile, and cranked up another passionate, rousing rap song.

Listening to the restless rap, they took in the beautiful scenery.

The vehicle turned at the crossroads, heading towards the town in the countryside. In just over twenty minutes, they had reached the coordinates, which was an ordinary rural town.

Allen Zhang parked the Jeep at the curb and began searching according to intel, looking for dilapidated cabins, one by one. Town residents noticed the two newcomers, their clothes and the Jeep clearly marking them as visitors from the city, but they didn’t pay too much attention.

The town wasn’t large, a myth created.

Allen Zhang and Sieg soon saw a Civil War monument in the town, detailing the events of a battle and recording a touching, tragic love story, with precise dates and locations, and there was even a theme park.

However, after some research by Sieg, he discovered there was no historical record of this story; it was fabricated.

To think the mayor would do anything for money, shamelessly hyping up a love story, and yet, some tourists were willing to buy into it.

In the heat of battle, with one’s head almost getting blown off by the enemy, who would still have a mind for romance?

Sieg scoffed, "Bullets in a gun on the battlefield are for the enemy. If that woman was captured, her fate would be grim; no way she’d be treated nicely or have any kind of romance with an officer."

"In modern armies, bullets are meant for comrades," Allen Zhang commented.

"..."

Sieg suddenly felt a bit helpless to argue.

The two walked and stopped occasionally, taking just over ten minutes to nearly finish touring the town, finally guided by signs to a solitary cabin at the edge of the town.

"Is there someone still living in this house?" Sieg noted the doghouse in the yard.

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