Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Gunfire erupted throughout the Textile Factory. Taking advantage of the terrain, the assassins fought the Special Operations Team members on equal terms.
After all, the Textile Factory was the Assistance's headquarters. There might not be many assassins who had mastered Gun Fu at the highest level, but there were still plenty of cheap killers who charged no more than two thousand dollars per job.
"Rat-a-tat-tat!"
"Boom boom boom!"
Two assassins who darted out from a corner were instantly riddled with bullets by the Special Operations Team members guarding the routes they might use to escape.
Not even a fly could get out.
That was what Lake had said, and it was also the unanimous thought of the five surviving Special Operations Team members.
An eye for an eye...
And blood for blood!
"Boom!"
The security room on the second floor exploded in an instant. With a thunderous blast, Butcher and the Rat Person hiding inside were hurled violently from the second floor to the ground by the shock wave, their bodies covered in blood.
"Don't move!"
"Don't move!"
Three Special Operations Team members instantly surrounded them, their black, heat-radiating muzzles aimed directly at Butcher and the Rat Person. Even if they wanted to move, they couldn't—and they were about to bleed to death.
"Open the door!"
"Open up!"
Jack and a squad of team members protected the mayor, who had come to support Sloan only to end up standing around for nothing. As they evacuated from inside the factory, he shouted at the SWAT officers guarding the entrance.
The mayor's face was full of panic. He had only one thought now: leave this place as quickly as possible.
Rumble!
A helicopter appeared in the distance. Right after it, three helicopters from the NYPD appeared as well.
Reinforcements had arrived.
The NYPD wasn't the only one that knew what had happened at the Textile Factory. The Continental Hotel knew too.
Even the Continental Hotel, which monopolized the assassin world, didn't dare openly clash with law enforcement. It had merely sent some people over to observe the situation.
Carlos the Cross had no idea.
Once Carlos's son had been taken out of the Textile Factory by his son and put into a police car, Carlos stopped paying attention to the Textile Factory. Instead, he followed behind the police car, pondering whether he should rescue his son.
The Textile Factory was in complete chaos!
"Bang!"
Lake shot an SWAT officer in the head. The SWAT team swept upward from below while Lake cleared the building from the top down.
A red figure flashed in the distance.
"Bang!"
"Bang!"
Lake swung his muzzle toward the emerging Fire Fox and said, "You were born a beauty. Why become a bandit?"
It was still the same.
Today, the Assistance had to be wiped out.
Even a beautiful female assassin would receive no special treatment.
As soon as he finished speaking.
Lake swung his muzzle again and once more engaged Fire Fox in a shooting duel.
Bang bang bang!
Bullets collided between the two of them one after another. The constant clang of bullets losing their momentum and dropping onto the floor sounded like a clear symphony—or a funeral hymn for the dead.
"Bang!"
"..."
Fire Fox's pupils contracted violently. The half-inserted magazine fell to the floor.
Click!
Click!
Lake removed his own magazine and placed the full one in front of Fire Fox. His tone was light. "See? I could shoot all day and never get tired."
Fire Fox lowered her eyes to the hole in her chest.
The next second.
Thud!
Lake watched Fire Fox close her eyes and collapse heavily to the ground, then shook his head.
If Lake's bullets had been limited too, he felt certain he would have lost this duel. Unfortunately, Lake wasn't an ordinary man. He was a man with a cheat.
The Glock 17 had practically infinite ammunition, upholding a man's bottom line and keeping his bullets flowing endlessly like the Yellow River. He could shoot however he wanted without worrying about running out!
Lake raised his head, his gaze landing on the factory director's office in the distance.
One remained.
Sloan was in the factory director's office. After going to the secret escape route and discovering signs of Special Operations Team activity in every passage, the old man had returned to his office.
When Lake entered the office, the old bastard Sloan was sitting in his chair, which had been torn into pieces and barely put back together, smoking a cigar.
"Mr. Sloan."
Lake walked in with a smile, as if greeting an old acquaintance. "Why aren't you trying to escape?"
Sloan, still smoking his cigar, stared fixedly at Lake. "You... who are you, exactly?"
How could an ordinary detective be this powerful?
And even if there were such a detective, what detective would know the Assistance's secret signature art, Gun Fu?
So...
Sloan stared intently at Lake, wanting an answer. Otherwise, he knew he would die with his eyes open.
He was going to die.
Sloan was certain of that. As he had said, ordinary police officers would arrest him, but this police officer who knew Gun Fu had definitely not come to arrest him.
So Sloan wanted to know the answer before he died.
But!
"Bang!"
"..."
Lake shot through Sloan's forehead, walked out, and tossed the pistol that had pierced Sloan beside Fire Fox's corpse. He then returned to the office and looked at Sloan's body before saying quietly, "Villains talk too much. I don't like that. I prefer killing you first and talking afterward. Why? Because you people made my job harder."
He had originally only intended to take Joe, the burden, through the motions.
But look what happened.
It had gone straight from going through the motions to a gunfight. If anyone was to blame, it was that assassin for fighting dirty. Everything had happened because of him.
Lake stood where he was and surveyed the office.
The next second.
"Oh no!"
Lake raised an eyebrow. Looking at Sloan's corpse, he suddenly remembered something: he had forgotten to ask Sloan where his private stash was.
Five minutes later.
Lake stared at the safe room hidden behind the bookshelf and frowned deeply.
What was the password again?
Lake turned to glance at Sloan, who was slumped in the chair with his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. He really wanted to ask him, but unfortunately, dead men couldn't talk.
Just then.
"Lake!"
"Lake!"
Joe brought a squad of Special Operations Team members to clear the office. After entering and seeing Lake inside, Joe exclaimed, "Thank God!" and then hugged him tightly.
Don't get the wrong idea.
This was purely the friendship between colleagues.
Besides, Detective Joe Martinez was a married woman. She was already married. Lake might have had thoughts if he were single and unaware of the fact, but he wasn't single, and he knew she was married.
Put it this way: even if Detective Joe Martinez hugged Lake tightly now, Lake's heart would remain calm and undisturbed. Even as he felt her chest rubbing against his, Little Lake didn't react in the slightest.
At this very moment.
Lake had only one thought in his mind.
That was...
How much money had he lost this time?
As Joe hugged him, Lake glanced from the corner of his eye at the fortress-like safe. His heart was bleeding. No matter how little money was inside, it would at least have been enough to exchange for one draw.
My money...
It's gone!!
Before you continue