Invasion of America

Chapter 20 Gunner
The living room was pitch black, with only the faint street light outside the window shining through the gaps in the curtains, casting dim shadows on the floor.

Zhou Qingfeng relaxed, his back against the second-floor wall, the M9 pistol in his hand cold and heavy. The gun was loaded, his finger resting lightly on the trigger frame, his thumb silently disengaging the safety.

There were soft footsteps coming from downstairs, like some kind of wild beast stalking in the darkness.

Although the man deliberately lowered his footsteps, the environment of the old house was not soundproof enough and betrayed him mercilessly.

The dry wooden boards creaked slightly, as if whispering an alarm to alert the intruder.

Every sound was like a needle piercing Zhou Qingfeng's eardrum, making him prepare in advance.

"Neither Julia nor Selina." He quickly ruled out the two possible options in his mind.

Julia always walked with the lightness of a cat's step, while Selina habitually shuffled her steps with a lazy rhythm.

But this time the footsteps sounded heavy and cautious, as if someone was deliberately suppressing his or her presence.

"Could it be Congers?" This thought flashed through his mind, but he quickly denied it.

Congers was wanted and would not return quietly at a time like this.

What's more, everyone's footsteps are different. Zhou Qingfeng is very familiar with the footsteps of the head of this family.

He had a vague feeling that the person coming was not friendly, but he lacked more information to make a judgment. At this moment, the only thing he could do was to remain still.

He pressed his body against the wall, his breathing slowing down. The wooden floor on the second floor was as thin as paper and would make noises if he wasn't careful.

Time was stretched out, and every second felt like an age.

My heart was beating heavily in my chest, as if it was about to break free. My ears caught every subtle sound downstairs, trying to discern more information from it.

Adrenaline was intensifying Zhou Qingfeng's perception, but he was calm, his muscles remaining neither tight nor loose.

His fingers gripped the pistol firmly, but without straining, ready to react at any moment. He lowered the muzzle, his gaze fixed on the stairwell.

"Who is coming?" A big question mark rose in his mind.

At this moment, the footsteps downstairs suddenly stopped. The house fell into an eerie silence, as if nothing had happened.

Zhou Qingfeng tilted his head slightly and looked from the stairwell toward the living room on the first floor. A blurry figure, reflected on the floor, flashed before him like a ghost.

"Not Congers."

The figure moved back and forth in the living room, sometimes stopping by the coffee table, sometimes turning towards the dining room, and even glancing towards the backyard a few times.

Finally, the figure cautiously approached the stairs.

Zhou Qingfeng's gaze tightened, and he clearly saw that the figure was holding a gun. He immediately raised the muzzle of the gun and aimed it steadily at the man's lower abdomen.

When the lower half of the figure appeared in view at the stairwell, Zhou Qingfeng suddenly shouted, "Stop! If you move again, I'll shoot you to death."

The sound was like a blade, cutting through the silence of the living room.

The figure froze in place, as if his feet were pinned down by an invisible force. His body leaned back slightly, as if he wanted to retreat, but didn't dare to act rashly.

"Sorry, I'll be leaving soon," the figure said slowly, a little flustered and tentative. He stepped back slightly, trying to distance himself.

"Do you want me to break one of your legs first before I talk to you?" Zhou Qingfeng's voice became even colder, trying to create a sense of oppression.

The figure downstairs was obviously shocked, but he couldn't help but feel a little doubtful and optimistic. Because from the angle downstairs, he couldn't see Zhou Qingfeng hiding in the shadows upstairs.

His fingers tightly gripped the gun handle, and he wondered in his mind: Is that guy upstairs really pointing a gun at me, or is he just bluffing?

"Who are you?" Zhou Qingfeng spoke again.

At that moment, the figure suddenly moved. Its body suddenly shrank, leaping back like a spring, while simultaneously raising its hand and pointing the muzzle of its gun towards the top of the stairs.

The action was swift and decisive, obviously a gamble - a gamble that Zhou Qingfeng was just trying to scare him, a gamble that he was fast enough to regain the initiative before being shot.

However, the uninvited guest underestimated Zhou Qingfeng's reaction speed.

"Bang!" A gunshot broke the silence of the night, and a blazing flame spurted out from the muzzle of the M9 pistol.

The bullet hit the figure's thigh accurately, and blood spurted out, like a bloody flower suddenly blooming in the dark night.

The figure let out a low, muffled groan, the roar of a wounded beast, the sound mixed with pain and unwillingness.

A bullet pierced his left leg, causing his body to tilt violently. The severe pain made it impossible for him to stand.

However, the guy did not stop resisting. Instead, he gritted his teeth, held up his body, gripped the pistol tightly, and pointed the muzzle at the stairs.

"Bang, bang, bang!"

Continuous gunshots rang out in the silent night sky, and bullets poured down towards the stairs like violent raindrops.

Under the impact of the bullets, the wooden floor and handrails collapsed instantly, wood chips flew everywhere, and the air was filled with the smell of burnt gunpowder.

Each bullet was like a scythe of death cutting through the air, enough to kill anyone who dared to stop it.

Zhou Qingfeng reacted extremely quickly. The moment the other party pulled the trigger, his body instinctively dodged.

He rolled over and ducked to the corner of the stairs, his back pressed against the cold wall.

The vibration of the bullets hitting the wall was as if the fingertips of the god of death were gently tapping, playing the melody of hell.

"Where did this bastard come from... He's really a tough guy."

Zhou Qingfeng cursed inwardly. He had originally thought that one shot would be enough to render the other party incapable of resistance, but he had not expected the other party to fight back so fiercely after being shot.

The figure downstairs also realized the situation he was in. Blood was gushing out of his thigh, and the severe pain and bleeding were constantly sending out warnings.

The other party rolled on the floor, looking for cover, his gun constantly aimed at the stairwell, guarding against Zhou Qingfeng rushing down from the upper floor.

Soon, his vision became blurred. That was the negative effect of heavy blood loss. It must be that the aorta was broken.

The heart was beating violently, pumping blood like a fountain. If it was not stopped, shock would be inevitable.

The figure bit his lips hard, forcing himself to stay awake, and in the process tore off his clothes and bandaged the wound on his thigh.

At this time, the muzzle of his gun would occasionally fire a few times, reminding Zhou Qingfeng upstairs not to rashly come down and cause trouble.

But to Zhou Qingfeng who was upstairs, the gunshots behind seemed a bit chaotic and the bullets landed too randomly.

This means that the enemy's physical strength is rapidly depleting, and the hand holding the gun must be trembling slightly.

Zhou Qingfeng keenly noticed this. He tilted his head slightly, peered out from the edge of the wall, and quickly glanced at the situation downstairs.

In the dim light from the street lamp outside the window, I could see the figure leaning against the sofa in the living room. His face was as pale as paper, but his eyes were as fierce as a wolf.

The muzzle of the gun was still pointed at the stairs, and the magazine had been changed. However, the frequency of firing had decreased significantly, probably because they were conserving bullets.

"This guy is dead..." Zhou Qingfeng saw the large pool of blood on the ground and made a quick judgment in his mind.

He wasn't in a hurry. Instead, he shouted downstairs, "Your bleeding won't stop with just a simple bandage. Do you want to leave a last message? Let me know who you are? And who should I ask to collect your body?"

The figure still didn't speak. He aimed the gun at the stairs with one hand and dragged his body on the floor with the other hand, crawling towards the living room door.

Zhou Qingfeng could hear the sound of his heavy body rubbing against the floor, but he leaned forward to try to observe the other party's condition.

"Bang!" Another gunshot.

But the bullet missed the target and hit the chandelier on the living room ceiling. Shards of glass fell one after another, like a crystal rain.

Zhou Qingfeng felt very strange: most people who were shot would have screamed loudly, but the man downstairs didn't say a word from beginning to end.

Who was the other party? Why was he so ferocious, even fearless of death? This almost crazy persistence made him feel a strong sense of oppression.

"Do you want to call the police?"

"Neighbors around here should have heard the gunshots."

"The police should be here soon, right?"

The stairwell had been blocked by the other party, so Zhou Qingfeng turned and walked towards the second-floor window to see what was going on outside.
He crouched down, moved quickly to the window along the wall, and gently pushed aside a corner of the curtain with his fingers, trying to observe the situation outside the house through the glass.

This cautious tactical move saved Zhou Qingfeng's life - just as his eyes swept across the yard, he was surprised to find that there was another figure in the yard!
The enemy in the front yard was holding a gun, with the muzzle pointed steadily at the second-floor window. He seemed to be hesitating whether to go into the house to rescue his companions or be wary of the target intercepting him from the second floor.

Zhou Qingfeng's eyes met the man's for a split second, both of them greatly surprised. He instinctively moved aside, and at the same moment, gunshots suddenly rang out.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The glass window shattered instantly, and the fragments flew everywhere like sharp blades.

Zhou Qingfeng's body pressed against the wall, his ears filled with the sound of bullets whizzing past, like the whisper of death. Although his reaction was extremely fast, he still couldn't completely avoid the damage.

A bullet grazed his forehead, causing a burning sting. He could feel his skin being torn apart, and warm blood slowly flowed down his cheek.

The air was filled with a pungent smell of burning hair mixed with the smell of blood, which was nauseating.

"Hiss..." Zhou Qingfeng sucked in a breath of cold air and rolled continuously on the floor. The pain in his forehead almost made him bite his teeth.

Bullets poured in from outside the house like a rainstorm, each shot carrying a deadly whistling sound, penetrating the thin wooden wall and closely following Zhou Qingfeng's footsteps.

Wood chips and debris were flying in the air, like countless exploding shrapnel, which could cut him at any time.

The injured gunman who was still in the living room on the first floor opened fire again. Bullets flew up from the floor and intersected with the firepower outside the house, trying to force Zhou Qingfeng into a desperate situation.

"They want to kill me." Zhou Qingfeng finally understood the situation. The enemy outside the house downstairs was definitely not an ordinary thief who broke into the house.

They are professional gunmen - one goes into the house to search, and the other one waits outside, a standard two-person teamwork, with clear goals and decisive actions.

Zhou Qingfeng was moving quickly, his eyes scanning the room, looking for a cover he could use.

However, most of the furniture in the house was flimsy and could not withstand the penetration of bullets. He could only rely on the cover of walls and corners to barely avoid the dense firepower.

It was not until the two killers downstairs emptied their magazines and the gunfire stopped temporarily that Zhou Qingfeng got a chance to catch his breath.

His back was pressed against the wall, his breathing was rapid and heavy, and the cold sweat oozing from his forehead mixed with blood slowly flowed down his cheeks.

Just when he breathed a sigh of relief, a sharp sound of tires rubbing against each other suddenly came from outside the house.

"FBI, everyone put down your weapons!" A loud voice came from outside the house, with unquestionable majesty.

Zhou Qingfeng heard this sound as if it were the sound of nature. He only had two magazines, which was not enough to sustain a long-term high-intensity confrontation.

What's more, the number of killers outside is unknown. If they choose to set fire, I will be forced to jump out the window to escape, which will be even more dangerous.

However, the two killers tonight are obviously not ordinary people.

Although the killer inside the house was shot in the thigh, he remained silent and tried to fight back tenaciously; the killer outside the house was not afraid of the arrival of the FBI and turned the gun around and fired at the agents.

There were only two FBI agents who arrived, and they obviously did not expect to encounter such a fierce counterattack.

They were forced to flee in panic by the flying bullets and hid behind the engines of their vehicles, barely avoiding the killer's firepower.

Zhou Qingfeng heard the gunshots outside and quickly returned to the second-floor window. He gripped his M9 pistol tightly and aimed at the gunman who was suppressing the FBI agent.

After a few gunshots, the gunman outside fell to the ground and the scene finally quieted down.

The FBI agent hiding behind the car was still in shock. He cautiously stuck his head out and then quickly retracted it.

They hurriedly called for backup and shouted into the house, "I'm Detective Carr from the FBI's Miami branch. Anyone inside, surrender immediately, lay down your weapons, and come out for questioning!"

Zhou Qingfeng responded loudly from the second floor: "I am Victor. There is another gunman in the room, but he was shot in the thigh. I am not sure if he is dead or not."

Inspector Carl raised the muzzle of his gun slightly, aimed it towards the second floor, and then exchanged a glance with his partner.

The two men took out their high-intensity flashlights, tacitly covered each other, and walked carefully into the house.

Just as they were about to step through the door, a series of gunshots like popping beans rang out from behind the door.

It was the last struggle of a severely wounded and bleeding killer. Bullets were fired randomly in all directions, riddled with holes in the door frame and walls.

The two FBI agents outside the door quickly stepped back. When the gunfire finally stopped, they separated and entered the Congers' house simultaneously through the front and back doors.

The dining room and living room on the first floor were in a mess.

Broken chandelier glass was scattered all over the floor, the furniture was shattered by bullets, and the air was filled with a strong smell of gunpowder and blood.

The killer who was shot in the thigh was still leaning on the sofa, and the gun in his hand was empty of bullets.

Excessive blood loss caused him to fall into a near-death shock coma, his face was as pale as paper, and his breathing was so weak that it was almost imperceptible.

Inspector Carl stepped forward and kicked the killer's gun away. After confirming that there was no threat on the first floor, he turned his gun towards the second floor and shouted, "Victor, was it you who fired the gun just now?"

"Yes," Zhou Qingfeng replied from upstairs, "but I was acting in self-defense. I had no idea who the two people downstairs were."

"We'll investigate." Detective Carl was very calm at the moment. "Now drop your gun, raise your hands, and slowly appear before me."

"Are you here to arrest me?" Zhou Qingfeng asked back warily.

"I'm here to look for Congers and search his house. You have to come down first, otherwise I can't guarantee your safety." Inspector Carl's tone left no room for doubt.

Zhou Qingfeng on the second floor was silent for a moment, with only his own heavy breathing in his ears.

He quickly weighed the pros and cons in his mind: should he continue to resist, or choose to cooperate?

Resisting meant he could only escape by jumping out the window, which would bring him too many unknown dangers. Furthermore, Zhou Qingfeng hadn't committed any crime; he was the victim of an attack.

And cooperation... at least can ease the relationship with the FBI and avoid having to face the police who are following closely.

Finally, he took a deep breath and threw the M9 pistol in his hand down the stairs. The metal made a crisp sound when it collided with the wooden floor.

Then he walked down the stairs step by step, looking around vigilantly at every corner.

The lights in the living room on the first floor are already on.

Inspector Carl took a few steps forward, the muzzle of the gun in his hand still pointed at Zhou Qingfeng, his eyes filled with professional indifference and scrutiny.

He signaled Zhou Qingfeng to stop, and then personally searched his body, from Zhou Qingfeng's shirt to his trouser legs, leaving no detail untouched.

After confirming that Zhou Qingfeng had no other weapons on him, Karl nodded slightly, pointed to the sofa in the living room, and said coldly: "Sit down, don't move."

Zhou Qingfeng did not resist and obediently walked to the sofa and sat down.

The inspector's eyes were filled with suppressed anger and confusion, waiting for the right moment to throw out all his questions at once.

Meanwhile, Carl's partner, another FBI agent, stood by, holding his phone and reporting to someone unknown:

"We were at the Congers' home when we encountered two unidentified gunmen. The suspects and their family of three are nowhere to be found.

The guy named Victor is still alive, and Carl is with me. What? Okay, I will cooperate with him to bring that guy back.

His partner's voice was low and rapid, with an inexplicable tension at the end. After hanging up the phone, his eyes flickered between Zhou Qingfeng and Karl, then he slowly took a half step back.

The action seemed casual, but the partner picked up the M9 thrown by Zhou Qingfeng. The latter's eyes naturally turned to the agent.

Carl habitually lifted up his shirt, revealing the pistol tucked under his ribs, and was staring coldly at Zhou Qingfeng, ready to interrogate him.

But when his partner answered the phone, he was silent for a long time, as if he was receiving some instructions. Carl turned around curiously and asked, "Who's calling?"

"It's Deputy Chief Schulte."

"What's the matter?"

"He said someone made an anonymous call and said they could prove that a guy named Victor was the real murderer in the 'Bar Lottery' case. The deputy director asked us to bring this guy back, and..."

Inspector Carl was very surprised and asked, "And what?"

"And kill you!"

At this moment, a sudden change occurred.

Carl's partner suddenly loaded his M9 and pointed it at Carl, who was standing in front of him. A fierce look flashed in his eyes, and he pulled the trigger.

Zhou Qingfeng had been keeping an eye on his partner, and when he heard him say "anonymous report video", he tensed up.

When he pulled out his gun, he realized something was wrong. He thought the other party was going to execute him, so he ducked and jumped off the sofa.

"Bang!" A gunshot rang out in the living room, making Zhou Qingfeng's eardrums buzz.

Inspector Carl was shot in the head and fell to the ground like a puppet without a word. Blood slowly seeped from his head, staining the floor red.

Zhou Qingfeng's heart nearly stopped. He didn't know why the FBI would kill each other. Instinct drove him to run in the opposite direction of the gun, and he slipped into the kitchen.

But the kitchen was an enclosed space without even a window, with only a cooking table in the middle. There was nowhere to escape or hide.

The partner agent didn't give Zhou Qingfeng any time to think. He followed with a gun in hand and shouted in a low and cold voice:

"Boy, don't resist in vain. Get out of here while I don't want to kill you. We only want money."

(End of this chapter)