North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws
Chapter 41 Anthony, Who Conceals Without Leaking, and Dean Lee With Reluctant Consent (A 4000-word Mega - , Please Follow)

Chapter 41: Chapter 41 Anthony, Who Conceals Without Leaking, and Dean Lee With Reluctant Consent (A 4000-word Mega Chapter, Please Follow)

"Buddy, this... this joke isn’t funny at all!" Seeing the blades, needles, and pistol before him, the elite lawyer lost his usual sharp rhetoric, his speech laced with stutters.

"A joke?" Dean’s smile slowly faded. "Why would you think this is a joke? Just because you’re a union lawyer?"

THUD!

The chair fell to the ground.

The poor lawyer, powerless to resist, was hoisted into the air by the neck with just one hand by Dean, his legs flailing wildly. He grabbed at Dean’s hand, terror filling his eyes.

Madman! This is a madman! Attacking me in a police station! Damn it, I can’t breathe!

At that moment, a myriad of thoughts flashed through the lawyer’s mind, a veteran of many negotiating tables. All of them came to rest on the interrogation room’s surveillance light, which no longer shone. This place is now a surveillance blind spot!

As the oxygen in the lawyer’s body rapidly depleted, gripped by terror, in just over ten seconds his normally composed face turned as red as a cooked shrimp from the congested blood, his expression hideous.

Amodeo, standing to one side, was so frightened by the sight that he shrank into a ball. He wanted to run, but his cuffed hands kept him pinned to the chair, completely immobilized. Amodeo could only curl his head down tightly, praying Dean wouldn’t notice him. At this moment, he showed none of the brutality he displayed during his crimes.

Just as the lawyer thought he was about to die, CLICK! Dean suddenly loosened his grip.

The lawyer fell to the ground, clutching his throat as he coughed violently. Disregarding the splattering saliva and flowing snot, he gasped desperately for air. He survived!

"Don’t say I didn’t give you a chance." Dean tossed the handgun at the lawyer’s feet. "Either shoot me or tell me who sent you to be Amodeo’s lawyer!"

With the election drawing near, the head of the Los Angeles Truckers Union would have to have shit for brains to let this lawyer defend the perpetrator of the recent series of brutal home invasion murders. Once this news got out, the head of the Los Angeles Truckers Union would be forced to step down immediately.

"No!" The lawyer quickly crawled backward. He wasn’t stupid. There was no way he could shoot that gun. If he touched it and left fingerprints, he’d die for nothing even if he was killed!

"Let me go, please! I won’t defend Amodeo anymore! Do whatever you want with him, just let me go! I’ll leave right away, and I’m willing to sign a confidentiality agreement about this!" The lawyer knelt on the ground, wailing and begging for mercy. Their kind of boldness only worked against those who played by the rules. But the Dean in front of him looked every bit like a psychopath.

"Your lack of cooperation with my treatment is making things difficult for me," Dean shook his head, feigning regret. "However, I admire a man with professional ethics. Since you’re unwilling to speak, I won’t force you."

Hope sparked anew in the lawyer’s eyes. He lay there, looking eagerly at Dean, just hoping to hear the madman say he could leave.

Seeing the light of hope igniting in the lawyer’s eyes, Dean grinned, his own filled with a chilling disregard for life. "So, before I finish treating Amodeo, Mr. Lawyer, think about your and your family’s epitaphs. Consider it your reward for keeping your mouth shut."

The light of hope in the lawyer’s eyes shattered. The interrogation room door could only be opened from the outside. The gun on the floor was definitely a trap. This madman had no intention of letting him live; he was even using his entire family’s lives as a threat! At that moment, the lawyer was filled with despair. Because even if he spoke up, the outcome would be the same!

"AHHHHHH!" The lawyer suddenly howled and leaped up from the ground, not charging Dean but lunging toward the cowering Amodeo. "Fuck you! It’s all your fault, you bastard! Die!"

THUMP!

Before he could get close to Amodeo, Dean kicked him away. "Think again."

Ignoring the lawyer on the ground, Dean grabbed Amodeo by the hair, forcefully yanked his head down, and made him look directly at him. Amodeo hadn’t rested for a moment since his capture; his spirit was stretched taut, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked at Dean in terror.

Damn it! Isn’t this the police station? This madman is blatantly abusing prisoners and even threatening a lawyer in here! Are there no human rights, no laws left in this world?

"TSK TSK TSK." Dean picked up a thin sheet of paper and slowly laid it over Amodeo’s face. "Mr. Amodeo, it’s unfortunate to meet you here. I thought a killer who could torment three women would make a fine patient, but your current performance is deeply disappointing."

WHOOSH!

Amodeo quickly blew the paper off his face. "I was forced to! If I hadn’t done it, Bill would have killed me!"

"Is that so?" Dean, unhurriedly, bent down, picked up the water bottle from beneath Amodeo, and imitated Amodeo’s earlier tone: "No! I’m not done playing yet! ...Understood, Butcher. It was a pleasure working with you. Looking forward to the start of the next game..."

Hearing these words, Amodeo’s pupils constricted violently; his heart nearly stopped. Damn it! Wasn’t that his last conversation with Bill?

Seeing the utter terror in Amodeo’s eyes, Dean had his answer. He continued to provoke him: "Amodeo, didn’t Lucifer’s people tell you? We installed listening software on Bill’s phone long ago... Oh, right. The reason you were caught so quickly is because a ’good Samaritan’ reported your location. Let me guess, they tricked you, didn’t they? Said they’d arrange everything, that you’d be fine, and that’s why you foolishly allowed yourself to be captured?"

Amodeo clenched his teeth. No way! Lucifer entrusted me with such an important task; he wouldn’t send me to my death! This lunatic in front of me... he must be bluffing!

Terror reached its peak, and paradoxically, the brutality within Amodeo’s heart surged. He glared viciously at Dean. "Who the hell are you? I swear, I will kill you, and then I’ll rape and murder every woman in your family!"

Dean’s expression darkened. "Good. The treatment begins. By the way, my name is Dean. When you see Satan, don’t forget me!"

"Dean!" Amodeo’s eyes looked as if they would pop out of their sockets, transforming into flames to burn Dean to ash. "You’re Dean! Bastard, I... MMPH!"

Dean expressionlessly stuffed paper into Amodeo’s mouth, then took a thin sheet, moistened it, and covered Amodeo’s face. As Amodeo gasped for breath, the supple, absorbent paper clung tightly to his nose and mouth. Deprived of oxygen, Amodeo struggled frantically, but his cuffed hands were useless. One by one, thin, icy water-soaked sheets of paper were laid over his face.

Before long, Amodeo’s body began to convulse, and a foul stench rose from below him. He had lost control of his bladder.

Nearby, the lawyer, who had been wrestling with the idea of grabbing the gun to fight Dean, looked at the miserable Amodeo, gulped, and said weakly, "I’ll talk! I’ll talk! It was the Dagger Gang who told me to defend Amodeo!"

"Excellent, Mr. Lawyer. It seems your treatment is quite effective," Dean crouched down. "Tell me, what’s the deal with the Dagger Gang?"

The Truckers Union was a major union in the United States. In its early years, it was essentially a mafia, now merely whitewashed. Ordinary gangs wouldn’t dare touch a Truckers Union lawyer, especially with an election approaching.

The lawyer glanced at the nearly motionless Amodeo and spoke rapidly, "The Dagger Gang is the largest violent gang in Los Angeles. They threatened my family’s lives; I couldn’t refuse. As long as you protect my family, I’m willing to testify against the Dagger Gang!"

Knowing his target, Dean picked up a nearby plastic pen, removed the ink cartridge, and fiercely stabbed the hollow tube into Amodeo’s throat. Then he punched him in the chest.

HUFF!

A foul stream of air immediately rushed out of the pen tube. Amodeo was revived.

After doing all this, Dean took out a cigarette, lit it, took a drag, and tossed it to the lawyer. As the lawyer stared in bewilderment, Dean pulled out his detective badge, pointed to the insignia, and said, "Remember this. This is the biggest violent gang in Los Angeles. You’ll be glad you received my treatment today."

With that, he picked up the handgun and the other items from the table and walked out of the now-open interrogation room door.

Truthfully, if the lawyer had actually helped Amodeo, he would have been signing his own death warrant. The Dagger Gang would have silenced him, and the Truckers Union, once they found out, wouldn’t have spared him either.

Behind him, the lawyer watched Dean’s departing figure, picked up the cigarette from the floor, put it in his mouth, took a few drags, and whispered, "Thank you, Detective Dean." He understood the meaning behind Dean’s words. It was just that, before this, he’d had no choice...

「Outside the interrogation room.」

Anthony looked at Dean with a complex expression. "You’re even more... wild than I imagined." He had wanted to say crazy, perverted even. Dean’s performance inside hadn’t seemed like an act at all; it was more like he had revealed his true nature.

"Thanks for the compliment," Dean leaned against the wall. "The Dagger Gang the lawyer mentioned is probably connected to the Lucifer Game Organization. Also, regarding Amodeo, he seemed to feel that Lucifer’s people deceived him, so I suspect he intended to get caught."

"I know," Anthony took out a cigarette, placed it in Dean’s mouth, and lit it for him. "I suspected that lawyer was problematic, but I didn’t intervene."

"Why?" Dean asked, puzzled.

Seeing Dean like this, Anthony actually breathed a sigh of relief. In the interrogation room, Dean hadn’t seemed like a twenty-one-year-old fresh from six months at the police academy, but rather a seasoned interrogator, a butcher indifferent to life. Now, he seemed normal again.

Anthony thought for a moment, then explained, "Because he represents the Truckers Union. Dean, the more you do, the more mistakes you make; the less you do, the fewer mistakes. The FBI is full of factions. I’d rather follow orders from above and pretend I don’t know. That way, if problems arise later, the Truckers Union takes the fall. But if I interfere, then I and my rookies here will be the unlucky ones. This is politics. Consider it my first lesson."

He extended his hand. "Let’s reintroduce ourselves. Anthony Morgan, an old FBI hand and a rookie training instructor. I’m currently looking for someone to inherit my skills. I have high hopes for you, Dean."

Dean shook his hand. "Dean Lee, a rookie detective with more up his sleeve than you think. Anthony, are you sure you can handle me?"

"I’ve personally trained over three hundred recruits," Anthony said, his grip firm, his tone serious. "Some are dead, some have quit, but many are spread throughout various departments across the United States, forming a unique network. Dean, this is my second lesson for you: when you’re out in the world, backing and connections come first; ability is last! Think about it. After we deal with Amodeo, I’ll give you the intel from Bill’s side and teach you the third lesson."

"Alright. I actually have to attend a good friend’s funeral soon. But I am curious, what’s the third lesson?"

"Total annihilation!" Anthony’s sunken eyes glinted with a chilling coldness. "You must remember, many criminals, once caught and stripped of everything, develop an obsession with revenge. And our families become their easiest targets!" He looked directly into Dean’s eyes. "So, when you catch those vicious criminals who might one day get out of prison, you must learn how to... dispose of them appropriately. Don’t leave such dangers lurking for yourself or your family!"

Dean maintained a final shred of composure on his face. "Mr. Anthony, I eagerly await the third lesson!" With that, he waved and turned to leave.

Holy shit! This old guy really fucking gets me! Connections, and he’s on my wavelength. Dean appeared calm, but inwardly he was howling. He decided then and there. After Mas’s funeral, he’d throw in his lot with this old man, Anthony. Sucking up to a powerful figure? There’s no shame in that.