North American riot police: Start by arresting P. Diddy!

Chapter 113 Guns! Lots of guns! (Seeking monthly tickets)
Washington, D.C.
Many people who have never been to the United States or lack understanding of the northeastern United States may have a stereotype.

In people's general perception, the more a city is labeled as a political or economic center, the lower its crime rate should be, after all, it has the most abundant police resources in the country.

In remote and desolate areas with inconvenient transportation, the crime rate is often higher. There is a saying in the East that "poor mountains and bad waters produce unruly people", which is exactly the same truth.

But in America, the situation is completely reversed.

Over the past decade, the national average violent crime rate was 4%, while Washington, D.C., saw a whopping 15%. This is not to mention fellow Eastern metropolitan areas like New York and Chicago. California, with the largest population of immigrants of color in the country, is even more often called a hotbed of crime.

On the contrary, the crime rates in southern states such as Texas, North Carolina, and Tennessee, whose economies are relatively backward compared to the northern region, are far lower than the national average, at only 1.2%.

Franklin, Tennessee, even holds a record for zero robberies in its historic downtown area.

In the United States, this is a miracle.

Of course, the security in the capital Washington is not really that bad.

At least in the Northwest District, where government agencies such as Capitol Hill, Georgetown, the Judiciary Building, and the Federal Law Enforcement Center are located, and where high-end wealthy areas are located, the public security situation is still quite good.

But just a few blocks across, to the Northeast and Southeast districts, the picture is very different.

Any tourist who walks around here can see countless street prostitutes and drug addicts. It's like being in Raccoon City, with zombies everywhere.

Sometimes, it is really hard to imagine that such a city would be the capital of the world's number one superpower.

In these dark corners, the Washington East Subway Station at night is a place where demons run wild.

late at night.

A group of young people just finished a wild party.

They wore blue turbans representing the Crips, their jeans were sagging and half of their buttocks were exposed, they made hip-hop gestures, and drunkenly rushed through the ticket gate in groups and entered a subway train running late at night.

It was already two in the morning, and besides this bunch of drunken gang members, the only people still on the subway were homeless people and low-income immigrants working overtime.

After seeing this group of guys who looked tough, the few citizens who were originally scattered in the carriage all got up carefully and moved to another carriage.

This group of young gang members were chatting and laughing, looking around with a defiant expression from time to time, and they obviously enjoyed the fact that others were afraid of them.

But soon, they discovered an outlier.

In the corner of the carriage, a man was sleeping soundly with a big white dog in his arms.

He was wearing a dark red leather jacket inside and a tattered dark coat outside. He had an unshaven beard and messy hair covering his eyes.

In his right hand he held a half-empty bottle of strong vodka, and in his left hand he held a silver-haired sheepdog.

Apparently, this guy is a homeless man with a dog, who can be seen everywhere on the streets of Washington.

But now the carriage was empty with only their gang members in it, and the appearance of such a guy who refused to hide was extremely eye-catching.

“Crab without meat”

The gang of thugs looked at each other, grinned evilly, and walked towards the man in the corner.

"This leather jacket is nice. It looks a bit like the one Brad Pitt wore in Fight Club."

"I like his boots, f*ck, a homeless guy wearing cowboy boots!"

"It seems this guy was a rich man before he went bankrupt, haha"

A thug with a cockscomb haircut reached out to forcibly take off the man's boots, but as soon as he did so, he heard a suppressed growl in his ears.

The big white dog had woken up at some point and was glaring at him with its teeth bared, its expression full of ferocity!

"Fake."

Cockscomb was frightened and took a few steps back, causing a burst of laughter from his friends around him.

Feeling that he was embarrassed, he pulled out a dagger from his pocket and rushed forward viciously to save his face.

Just then, a deep voice sounded from the front.

"If I were you, I wouldn't do that."

Rorschach opened his eyes and looked at the dozen or so gang members surrounding him. He said calmly, "Just stay here. I'm getting off at one more stop."

"Watfake!?"

The thugs looked at each other, seemingly not understanding why the other party was so calm.

They looked at the homeless man in front of them. Apart from being a little taller, he seemed to be no different from ordinary people.

But because Brian kept baring his teeth at them, although these guys were unhappy, none of them was willing to take the risk of being bitten by the dog and be the first to take the blame.

Soon, the arrival announcement sounded in the carriage.

Rorschach stuffed the unfinished vodka into his arms, patted Brian on the head, and ignored the gang of thugs before getting out of the car.

However, just as the car door was about to open, a thug deliberately revealed the pistol at his waist and cursed at Rorschach's back: "If you don't want to die, get out of here, bastard."

"Don't scare him, man. Didn't you see he's wearing a plastic bracelet like the kind only elementary school kids wear? He's just a sissy."

"Yes, she was probably just kicked out of her home by her boyfriend."

"Hahaha"

Seeing one of their comrades pull out a gun, the other thugs became bolder and started to curse at Rorschach.

After all, those with guns are certainly not afraid of those with bare hands, unless—

The opponent himself is a weapon! "Ding——"

The subway door slowly opened, but Rorschach didn't rush out.

He sighed helplessly at Brian beside him.

After a few seconds.

Rorschach stepped out of the subway door.

“Click, click.”

He pulled the bullets out of the magazine one by one and threw them into the trash can.

A man and a dog slowly walked up the stairs leading to the ground, and in the carriage behind them, a group of guys with twisted hands and feet were lying on the ground, wailing in pain.

----------

In a bar in the East District.

The drunk men and women were dancing to the sounds of the DJ on the dance floor, hugging the aliens and swaying their bodies to their heart's content.

In the booth, a bald man wearing a floral shirt and a blue suit, who looked like he had a lot in common with Better Call Saul, was particularly eye-catching.

He was hugging two dancers on his left and right, chatting with his younger brothers and bragging about his heroic deeds on the battlefield in Afghanistan.

"It was a raid and my target was one of the top leaders of al-Qaeda."

"The other side has thousands of militiamen and countless heavy firepower."

"Do you know what the General Staff said about this raid? They thought it was a suicide attack! There was almost no hope of success!"

"But who am I? I'm an Army ace, an elite member of the Screaming Eagles of the Airborne Division!"

"There were only 23 of us at the time. We all airdropped to the rear of the target position and trudged silently for dozens of kilometers."

"I remember it clearly. It was three in the morning."

The bald man boasted to his brothers in a vivid manner, "We've already eliminated all the guards outside the villa, but because of one... well, a careless but truly good soldier's mistake, he caught the attention of the guards inside. They just carried a rocket launcher and fired at him. Guess what happened?"

The younger brothers stared at him expectantly.

Seeing this, the bald man raised his eyebrows proudly. Just as he was about to continue bragging, a voice suddenly interrupted him.

"As a result, I used the barbed wire on the wall to help you block the rocket. That way, you were able to retire safely, and then successfully inherited the inheritance of a distant relative and opened a bar in Washington."

Hearing this familiar voice, the bearded man was stunned at first, then he opened his mouth as wide as possible, widened his eyes, and quickly turned his head to look.

Behind him, a shabbily dressed, unshaven man was looking at him with a smile, and at his feet sat a big white dog with its tongue hanging out.

The bald man was shocked and incoherent: "Luo Luo. Luo."

He suddenly thought of something and immediately suppressed the cry that was about to come out of his mouth. He stood up suddenly and hugged the other person tightly.

A few minutes later.

Rorschach was already sitting in a secluded private room with his former comrade-in-arms.

The bald man put his arm around Rorschach's shoulder and sighed, "When I saw the news, my scalp exploded! False accusations! Absolutely false accusations! I was planning to visit you in the Chicago prison one of these days, but then the news broke about the prison explosion. Damn! I was so worried for days, I thought you died in that explosion. By the way, where are you going now? If there's anything I can help you with, just let me know! If it weren't for you, Captain, I'd have been blown to pieces by a rocket."

Rorschach just smiled faintly and didn't respond.

In terms of feelings, the two of them did have a life-and-death friendship, but after so many years, they had almost lost contact. Compared with the friendship they had on the battlefield back then, they had become a little distant.

"Philip, don't worry, I won't stay here long." Rorschach said seriously.

Upon hearing this, the bald man Philip was a little embarrassed, but he still hugged Rorschach's shoulders tightly, as if he was ready to let him know if he needed anything.

Rorschach continued, "Now that I'm in Washington, I think you should know what I'm going to do."

"You," Philip couldn't help but persuade him, "Why bother, Rorschach? Those who framed you are all big shots. We've retired and are no longer the soldiers we once were on the battlefield. I have connections in Panama and can arrange for you to leave tonight. With your abilities, you can live a very comfortable life in any South American country. Why bother?"

"Philip."

Rorschach suddenly spoke, interrupting the other person.

He turned his head to look at the comrade in front of him whom he had saved more than once, and said with a serious expression: "I have never come down from the battlefield. My war has never ended."

Philip was stunned for a moment. He looked into Rorschach's determined eyes and sighed heavily.

"I know that no one can shake the decision you've made. Is there anything I can help you with? If you still consider me a brother, just ask. I'll do my best to help you in any way I can."

Rorschach smiled and patted his shoulder, then pointed to Brian, who was lying on the ground tearing into a steak.

"Please take care of Brian for two days. If...if I don't come back after two days, take him and my gray pickup truck parked in the West Side Walmart parking lot to the Upper East District Police Station in New York, where a policewoman named Ginny Bower will be stationed. And tell her..."

Rorschach was silent for a few seconds, then slowly said, "I broke my promise."

Philip opened his mouth, but finally nodded heavily.

"What else? What else do you need?" he continued to ask.

Rorschach took a deep drag from the cigarette butt, then turned his head to look at Philip. In the misty smoke, his eyes hidden behind his messy hair flashed with a cold light.

"Guns!"

“Lots of Guns!”

(End of this chapter)