334: Chapter 214: Elite Squad, One Man Rampage 334: Chapter 214: Elite Squad, One Man Rampage In this kind of ergency situation, there was not much information available.
By the ti they rushed over, the patrol officers in the car had already adjusted their radios based on the guidance.
From the radio, the first policen on the scene were reporting, “It’s a group of xicans, they’re wearing white t-shirts, and most of them have automatic rifles, I repeat, a group of xicans…”
From the pager, apart from the patrol officers’ frantic reports, there were also screams and rapid gunfire, and calls admonishing residents to grab their guns and rush back inside.
It was clear that the scene was chaotic.
“Damn it, why would they call us for backup in this situation?
They should have sent out the SWAT team directly,” the patrol officer muttered under his breath.
At this ti, the LAPD’s weapon authorization wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t as exaggerated as one might imagine; at least among the first responding officers, only the high-level officers were equipped with automatic rifles and powerful shotguns in their cars.
The rest of the patrol officers just had standard handguns at most, perhaps with the addition of a bullet-proof vest.
Brian silently drew his handgun and checked his ammunition.
Ever since he had thrown stones with enough force to match the close-range power of a regular handgun, he seldom carried a lot of magazines—just a few small cantaloupes hung around his body.
On Brian now, there were only two spare magazines, totaling fifty-one bullets, and three fragntation hand grenades for ergency situations.
That should be enough.
anwhile, the patrol officers continued to grumble.
Listening to the intense gunfire coming through the radio, their hands gripping the steering wheel were trembling.
Before he could finish his complaints.
Boom—
Accompanied by a series of explosions.
From the radio, all the sounds disappeared.
The officers lips turned instantly pale.
This ant that the police car relaying the information had been destroyed…
…
Brian was also sowhat surprised.
In downtown Los Angeles, the last ti such a scene had occurred was when Mad Dog Ike went insane; that guy had hidden several rocket launchers at his location and even blown up two police cars.
Brian couldn’t believe that only about two months had passed before such an incident occurred again.
Three minutes later.
Within their line of sight, there appeared chaotic traffic fleeing the scene.
A large number of police cars were approaching.
At this location, they could already hear the explosions.
“Are you scared?”
Brian casually snatched the headset out of the junior officer’s hand, stuffed it into his ears, and clipped the receiver to his waist.
He kicked open the car door, looked back at him, and said, “Stay behind , you’ll need to drive back later.”
In the heat of battle, it’s easy to enter a state of adrenal explosion.
This state isn’t particularly good; not only does it make one prone to reactive actions, but it also easily wastes energy, leading to poor sustained combat ability.
Taking the junior officer with him was mainly because his uniform was noticeable and it wouldn’t be easy for him to be shot by his own people.
“Ah?”
The junior officer looked at Brian’s calm deanor, sowhat perplexed.
Wasn’t Brian the Autopsy Officer?
Wasn’t he afraid of dying?
Nervous, the junior officer hurriedly donned his bullet-proof vest, drew his small handgun, and followed behind Brian, looking around cautiously as if on alert.
In reality, they hadn’t yet reached the combat zone.
Walking about a hundred ters, crossing a community building complex and a street cluttered with a chaotic array of vehicles and raging fires, the scene unfolded before their eyes.
Scattered police cars encircled the houses on the left; on the lawns outside the houses lay seven or eight motionless figures, the attire and age indicating these were innocent civilians who hadn’t managed to flee and were shot dead in the chaos.
Most conspicuous was an overturned police car, next to which a Black patrol officer lay groaning in pain on the ground.
His leg had been shot, rendering him immobile.
Not far from this Black patrol officer, there was also a body on the ground, motionless and on fire.
Further away were two more downed police officers.
From their positions, they seed to have been attempting to rescue their injured comrade when they were fatally shot.
Most absurdly, there was a blast shield in front of these two n.
This shield, designed to withstand regular bullet impacts, showed a large bullet hole and a spread of dense cracks, indicating the powerful impact of the bullets that had penetrated it.
This was definitely not from a regular handgun or rifle!
Looking at the scene, Brian’s eyes narrowed slightly.
This was a classic sniper tactic: wound one or two first, then wait for their comrades to co to the rescue.
There was a sniper among the enemies!
…
Brian appeared to be observing ticulously, yet he only scanned the scene briefly.
The situation was not as he had anticipated.
Under these circumstances, there was no need for the burden of having the junior officer around.
He took a deep breath, a look of absorption crossing his face.
The scent of blood and gunpowder made his blood involuntarily start to boil.
Brian took out his pager and handed it to the junior officer behind him, “Tell your colleagues to stop firing indiscriminately, inform them Second Level Staff are intervening, and tell them to just secure the periter.”
After speaking, without waiting for the junior officer to respond, Brian, holding his gun with one hand, casually stepped into the battleground.
Imdiately, a patrol officer tucked in a corner shouted upon seeing him, “Get back, get back to your place, it’s dangerous here, get back!!!”
Next mont.
Brian flicked his gun.
Bang bang bang—
Three bullets fired out.
Three xican n who had just peeked out, intending to take down this suddenly appeared conspicuous package, collapsed silently behind their cover, startling their comrades.
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