The real life of an American police officer: Winning over others with virtue

Chapter 278 Rough Bandits
"Ventilation ducts?"

Upon hearing this, Eric instinctively felt a strange unease.

Who would be so kind as to climb a ventilation duct at this hour?

This just seems strange no matter how you look at it.

But Eric glanced at the SWAT team gathered there, and seeing that they seemed oblivious, he shook his head inwardly, then looked at the house thirty meters away.

I don't know if it's because I've added too many mental points, but my so-called sixth sense and intuition have also evolved.

The more Eric looked at the house, which was only emitting sporadic light, the more he felt as if some monster was hiding inside, making his heart pound with fear.

The questions surrounding the wanted fugitive's veteran background, the location of the vehicle's disappearance, and the sudden appearance of several accomplices.
Eric glanced at Daves, who was standing with the SWAT team, and stepped over.

"Sir!"

Daves, who had been keeping a close eye on Eric to prevent him from causing trouble, frowned and asked, "What's wrong?"

Eric whispered, "I feel like something's off about this house."

Daves paused for a moment: "Something's not right?"

“I think there’s a ‘big monster’ hiding inside,” Eric said seriously.

Daves was speechless. He looked at Eric, who had a serious expression on his face, and asked, "What does this mean?"

“Exactly, this group might be very well prepared!” Eric said after a moment of thought.

"It might not just be spears."

If you can make him sense it, then he'll know this.

Veterans, plus freedom of firearms, that's definitely more than two.

Daves stared at Eric, his expression darkening.

“We need to be fully prepared!” Eric added, glancing at the SWAT team still in a meeting.

Upon hearing this, Daves let out a soft sigh of relief and did not refute Eric's words.

On the contrary, he trusted Eric more than anyone else and knew Eric's capabilities well.

“I’ll go tell them,” Daves said.

"Stay here and don't wander off!"

"Sir! Don't worry!" Eric waved his hand and said helplessly.

"I won't go anywhere! I'll stay by your side and protect you!"

Upon hearing this, Daves glared at Eric and turned to walk towards Rafe, who was deploying the operation.

Eric felt relieved. In this situation, unless SWAT specifically requested his assistance as a patrol officer, his duty was limited to working on the periphery.

His gaze shifted, finally settling on the house. Eric pursed his lips, his eyes calm; this was all he could do.

-

"Did he say that?"

Rafe glanced at Eric standing over there, then spoke to Daves in front of him.

"Well, although what my subordinate said has no basis." Daves paused.

"But I don't think he'll just talk the talk."

Rafe frowned, as if he had thought of something: "We have made full preparations, and the operation has already begun."

Daves was silent for a moment. This was indeed the default rule, and he couldn't refute it. SWAT was in charge of the operation, while the investigation was handled by detectives.

The patrol officer is just a roadside member on this chain, at the very bottom.

"Alright, we've already given you the warning."

Daves turned to leave, but Rafe suddenly spoke up: "Could we borrow one of your men?"

Daves stopped. "Of course," he said, turning to look at the fully armed Rafe.

“But if you just want him to go in and risk it with you, then I can only say I’m sorry.” Daves said and left.

Go to hell! You won't listen to any advice, and you expect Eric to rush in and risk his life with you? Don't even think about it, not a chance! As long as Eric is at the West Canyon Police Department, I'm his direct superior!
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The room was dimly lit, filled with the smells of gun oil, coffee, and a faint sense of tension. Thick curtains covered all the windows, completely isolating the outside world.

Beside an old dining table.

Two men were silently loading magazines, their faces showing no sign of the fatigue one would expect at four in the morning.

"Miguel, check if the barrel of that Remington is clean, just in case it jams."

One of the men, wearing only a vest, spoke to his accomplice without looking up.

On the table were several AR-15 rifles equipped with optical sights and several fully loaded magazines, their surfaces gleaming with a cold, hard metallic luster in the dim light.

“Don’t worry, I’m more diligent about this than those people who come in and out,” Miguel said, but he still picked up the shotgun and skillfully inspected the chamber and feed tube.

He looked up at his accomplice leaning against the wall, a sinister glint in his eyes.

He killed someone in the street for a bitch who cheated on him, exposing himself and possibly implicating his teammates. What an idiot.

No, damn idiot!
“At least it’s much better than some piece of trash,” Miguel continued.

"If he affects the plan, I'll kill him!"

The man in the vest glanced at Miguel beside him, then at the wanted Armand, a look of helplessness flashing across his face.

Whether in the military or outside, these two have always been at odds.

"She cheated on me!" Armand's eyes were bloodshot as he stared intently at Miguel, as if declaring his emotions and explaining his reasons for taking action.

"While I was still overseas risking my life for the country! Using the money I earned, in my own bed!"

The man in the vest said in a deep voice, "Shut up, all of you! After we finish this job, we can go to South America and live a carefree life, and we'll never have to live in this shithole place again."

I will find a kind and honest woman to marry and have children with.
And you, Miguel, will have a house by the beach.

"You, Armand, can change your ways, start a new life, and become a rich man. Then you can do whatever you want; I won't care about you anymore."

At this point, the man in the vest's tone instantly turned cold: "It'll be dawn in two hours, so I don't want anything to happen before we're done, like we do in the army, where you fight one last time after the mission is over."

Miguel looked at the silent Armand with a gloomy expression and nodded slightly.

"Miguel, go and call Wavin over. We'll go over the plan again later."

Miguel nodded and prepared to go over.

Just then, a noise came from behind, causing him to stop instinctively, but he only glanced at it before walking out of the house.

"Help me get it!"

Armand, who was closer, stood up and went over to take the two backpacks that were being handed out from inside.

Next, a man carrying a backpack came out of the pipe. As soon as he got down, he looked at the man in the vest and said dejectedly.

"Was it necessary to hide it so deeply, Sheen?"

Sheen ignored the man named Ryan and gestured for Armand to bring over the backpack.

Armand silently placed the two backpacks on the table.

Sheen unzipped the backpack, revealing what was inside.

Lumps of material resembling white clay or putty were kneaded into strips and tightly attached to several magnetic detonation devices the size of metal lunchboxes, with wires carefully wound and arranged beside them.

Several cylindrical canisters, distinguished by markings on their surfaces, indicate that they contain smoke grenades and stun grenades.

There were also several round hand grenades next to the tank.

There was also an RPK light machine gun, a cold, steel beast, with a 100-round drum magazine lying beside it.
Finally, Ryan shrugged, picked up the last backpack, walked over, placed it on the table, and then unzipped it.

A long, green iron pipe, embodying the violent aesthetics of the Soviet Union, suddenly appeared – an RPG-7 rocket-assisted grenade launcher!
Two PG-7V high-explosive anti-tank warheads were placed next to it.

(End of this chapter)