The True Face of the Textile Factory

The shootout was over.

Body after body was found, neatly lined up to the side. Injured SWAT officers, police officers, and the still-living killers were being loaded into ambulances, sirens wailing as they headed to the hospital.

The entire Textile Factory had been completely surrounded by the NYPD.

The scene was almost identical to what had happened at the World Trade Center incident last month.

Bang!

Bang!

Chief Burt and Inspector Montgomery stepped out of their respective cars. The first thing they saw was Lake, sitting on the steps, his right arm in a sling and a bandage on his forehead.

"Jesus Christ."

"Look at all these bodies, my God, how many people died?"

The two men exchanged a look and then walked towards Lake.

Joe, standing nearby, nudged Lake, who was chatting with SWAT Captain Jack, who had also received a hasty bandage.

Lake snapped back to attention and looked at Joe.

Joe gestured with his eyes towards the approaching Chief and Inspector.

Seeing this, Lake stood up and greeted Chief Burt and Inspector Montgomery, "Chief, Inspector!"

Burt looked around. The ground was littered with shell casings and bloodstains, which were very noticeable. "Is the arrest over?"

Lake followed Burt's gaze and then nodded.

A wave of curiosity washed over him.

During the search, he had instructed them to turn the place upside down, but they hadn't found a single gun. Then, when the fighting started, the firepower in the Textile Factory was almost equivalent to that of an entire company.

So, where had these guys been hiding their arsenal?

Caroline from Public Crisis Relations also walked over from nearby. After greeting Chief Burt, she said to Lake, "Lake, what's the situation? How am I supposed to explain this to the reporters who are still rushing here?"

Lake looked directly at his direct superior, Inspector Montgomery, and then subtly gestured towards Carlos, the handsome, blonde police spokesperson who was popular with the public. He was signaling for Caroline to talk to Montgomery.

Caroline turned her attention to Montgomery.

Outside the police cordon, at least ten media outlets had gathered in the last half hour, and the number was still growing.

After all, the stream of ambulances couldn't be hidden.

Caroline, who had been overwhelmed by the reporters just moments ago, couldn't worry about anything else now. She just needed information, regardless of who provided it, as long as it could help her deal with those reporters who were like jackals.

Montgomery looked at Lake and Caroline, both of whom were looking at him. His expression darkened, and he directly turned his gaze to the highest-ranking official present, NYPD Chief Burt.

Burt was slightly taken aback, then said to Lake with a hint of annoyance, "This is your case, you handle it!"

Lake smiled slightly, stood up, and walked aside with Caroline. He then briefly recounted the entire operation.

Caroline listened intently.

Half an hour later.

The New York Daily was the first to publish their report, putting the electronic version online at top speed.

"Shocking: The Textile Factory That Donated Five Million Dollars, Its True Face Is Actually..."

On the way back to the police station.

Lake looked at the headline published online on Joe's phone. He blinked, wondering how the New York Daily had adopted such a sensationalist tone.

And...

Lake blinked again, looking at his own published photo on the phone. He held the phone up to Joe, "Don't you think this photo looks incredibly imposing?"

"Lake Edwin, Head of the Major Crimes Unit, Leads SWAT Team to Dismantle Secret Assassin Base."

"I'm famous now."

As for why he was using Joe's phone, there was a reason.

Lake's phone was an old flip phone, not a smartphone. It was fine for making calls and sending texts, but using it for the internet was a pipe dream.

Lake did want a smartphone.

But who knew if someone would install a backdoor to eavesdrop on him? In short, until he won a lottery for some electronic technology, Lake refused to use a smartphone for safety reasons.

Joe, who was driving carefully, glanced at Lake, who seemed to be admiring his own photo, and didn't answer the question. Instead, he asked with some confusion, "Lake, I still don't quite understand, why did they suddenly go berserk?"

When Joe saw the Mayor's car arrive, he had already prepared himself to sit on the sidelines with Lake or even get fired. Who knew things would take such a turn?

Lake smiled and thought for a moment, "If someone killed your husband right in front of you, would you go berserk?"

Joe rolled his eyes at Lake, "That's an inappropriate analogy."

Lake shrugged, "But it's the most fitting analogy. So, Sloan had no choice."

Either he would watch Lake dismantle the Fate Textile Machine, ending the belief of the Assistance, or he would take a gamble and perhaps fight back.

Unfortunately...

Lake won.

Downstairs at the police station.

As Lake got out of his car, a fragrant breeze wafted towards him. Immediately after, Lake saw his girlfriend Maureen running down the steps and throwing her arms around him.

Maureen looked at Lake's right arm in a sling, blinked, and looked at Lake.

Lake smiled, "It's just a minor injury!"

Joe, standing nearby, lowered his head and pouted. Minor injury? He wasn't injured at all. According to Lake, since everyone else was injured, it wouldn't make sense if he wasn't. Besides, it would be difficult to write the case report later.

So...

Lake had one arm in a sling.

Speaking of which, Lake was regretting it a little now. It wasn't for any other reason than that he seemed to have put the wrong arm in the sling. He should have put his less-used left arm in the sling, not his dominant right arm.

As a result, this led to one thing.

When they had dinner that evening, Lake couldn't even hold a fork steady with his left hand.

His girlfriend Maureen was laughing.

Lake fumbled with it a couple of times, sighed, and seemed to give up on the meatball in his bowl. It was finally not a vegetable day, and he couldn't even eat it.

Maureen, sitting opposite him, shook her head, got up, and walked over.

When Maureen was about to feed him, Lake refused. However, after the meatball entered his mouth, Lake suddenly felt that having his right arm in a sling wasn't such a bad thing after all.

If he didn't have something to do that evening, Lake felt he might have enjoyed some king-level pampering tonight.

Too bad he had something to do tonight.

He wouldn't get the money from the safe at the Textile Factory, but Lake felt he would definitely get the next two installments of money.

At the very least, he'd get Wasteful Xiaobai's protection money.

What?

What if Carlos goes back on his word? Anyway, the Textile Factory is gone now, so Carlos could just eat it and spit it out?

Heh.

If that were to happen, Lake dared to guarantee that Carlos would regret it very much. Killing someone outside during the day was easy for Lake, and similarly, killing someone in the police station's solitary confinement cell was even easier for him.

I bet he wouldn't dare not give me my money!

That's the fruits of my labor!