Stay alert.
MMP, lawyers. Damn rich bastards!
The cops only cursed them under their breath, seething with resentment. But for the sake of the US Dollars, they weren't about to offend their big spender. They just wanted to finish the job without any trouble and collect their money.
Nobody wanted to cross US Dollars. This world was nothing if not practical.
The woman who'd tried to spray the bus with her AK had fallen into the bushes. Her body had been split in two at the waist, and her heart, liver, lungs, intestines, stomach, kidneys, and other organs had spilled out. Pink viscera hung everywhere from the branches and leaves.
The little sports car had been twisted into a pretzel, its windshield reduced to shards. The overturned car, all four wheels in the air, was smoking. The driver—a young white man with curly hair and tattoos all over, who didn't look like a good person—was slumped over the steering wheel, his face covered in blood. His neck was twisted at an unnatural angle, his head somewhat deformed, and blood gushed from beneath him. He was dead, too.
As Li Bai casually went click-click here and click-click there, taking photos while inspecting the scene, the two American cops couldn't help thinking, Damn, won't looking at all this traumatize you?
After he'd finished taking pictures, Li Bai asked, "Salt Lake City gang?"
At last, one of the American cops had a chance to lecture this audacious Chinese man. With his hands on his hips, he spoke without the slightest courtesy. "That's right. Chinese man, I suggest you go back where you came from, and do it quickly. Go to your consulate or embassy right now and ask for protection. Then keep out of sight. There are things even we can't stop. This