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

Chapter 335 The Fun Has Gone Too Far

The scarred man and the thin man reacted instantly the moment the sinister man opened fire. They quickly separated and used the van as cover, firing wildly at the police car.

boom! boom! boom!
The gunshots made a loud clanging sound at the police car. Although there were only three handguns, they still kept Holland and Levin from raising their heads.

They're just patrol officers; there's no need for them to take such a huge risk and risk their lives here. They should just wait for backup.

They are not Eric.

"Fake!"

Holland didn't even show his body; he just fired a few shots randomly under the car door, but his aim was completely off.

“LAPD! Drop your weapons!” Levin could only shout.

"Retreat! Get in the car!" the sinister man roared. Their goal was to infiltrate and kill, not to fight the police.

Now is the perfect time to escape. By dragging this police car here, they can get away without pursuers.

The moment the words were spoken, the scarred man and the thin man immediately stopped firing, keeping watch on the direction of the police car while quickly bending down and moving towards the two side doors of the van.

The sinister man continued to provide cover fire, firing several more shots towards the police car. The bullets thudded against the car, forcing Holland, who had just opened the car door, to shrink back inside.

“They’re running!” Levin yelled at Holland from inside the car, trying to aim through the shattered windshield, but the other side was too fast and made full use of the vehicle as cover.

Bang! Bang!

Without the suppressive fire of three guns, Holland finally found a firing angle and fired two shots through the gap in the car door at the bandits who were getting into the car.

It only hit the body of the van, leaving two dents.

The sinister-looking man had already decisively boarded the vehicle, and bang! bang! The sliding door of the van was slammed shut.

At the same time, the scarred man in the driver's seat had already inserted the key and turned it sharply.

The engine roared, and the headlights suddenly blazed on.

"Stop them!" Holland shouted at Levin, firing at the vehicle's tires as he did so.

But it's too late.

The scarred man abruptly shifted into reverse and floored the accelerator! The tires screeched against the ground, and the van lurched backward, quickly putting distance between itself and the police car.

"7-A-20! The suspect vehicle is fleeing the scene! It's a dark-colored, unmarked van!" Levin reported over the radio, trying to make out the license plate.

"I can't see the license plate! They're driving north along North Kingsley Road!"

With just two sentences, the taillights ahead flickered and then instantly disappeared into the distance.

"Chase!" Holland sat back in the passenger seat, turned the siren up to the highest volume, and the red and blue police lights flashed wildly in the night sky.

Levin shifted into drive and steered the battered police car in pursuit.

However, the bandits were moving too fast; in the darkness, their taillights were no longer visible, and it was unclear whether they had turned off their lights.

-

After making several turns, the van entered a relatively quiet side road.

The scarred man glanced at the rearview mirror; the street behind him was empty, with only the dim yellow streetlights.

"We've shaken them off." The scarred man let out a long sigh of relief, his hands, which had been gripping the steering wheel tightly, loosened slightly.

"Damn it!" The skinny man in the back seat ripped off his balaclava, which was already soaked with sweat, and covered his arm, which had been scratched earlier.

"It seems like they missed a lot of things in the intelligence! They definitely overlooked the owner of that house."

The sinister-looking man also removed his mask, his face so dark it seemed to drip water. He didn't answer the question about the house, as that was beyond his comprehension.

He just wants to leave this area as soon as possible before making any further plans.

"Stop talking nonsense, turn left at the next intersection, take another route, and leave as soon as possible."

Before he could finish speaking, the van was about to cross an intersection. Just as its front end entered the intersection, two blindingly bright high beams suddenly lit up in the left lane without warning.

The light instantly turned the entire driver's cab a blinding white, and also revealed the momentary stunned expressions on the faces of the three people inside the vehicle.

Behind the lights, a massive, dark silhouette, accompanied by a deep, furious engine roar, charged straight toward the middle of the van without slowing down at all.

"Me!" The scarred man's pupils suddenly contracted to the size of pinpoints, and he managed to squeeze out only a broken syllable.

Driven by instinct, he reflexively slammed on the brakes with his right foot while frantically jerking the steering wheel to the right with both hands in an attempt to evade the impact.

But it was too late; the distance was too close, and the opponent was too fast.

The gloom on the face of the sinister man in the passenger seat was instantly replaced by horror; he could even see the galloping horse emblem on the hood of the car opposite.

This is a Ford Raptor!
"No!!!" The thin man screamed in the back seat, his hands instinctively gripping the back of the front seat tightly.

boom!
A tremendous crash resounded, and the van, as if struck by an invisible giant hammer, instantly deformed and was pushed and shoved by the black Raptor, tumbling and rolling uncontrollably.

Meanwhile, the entire front of the Ford Raptor emitted a teeth-grinding sound, and the added front bumper and grille twisted and deformed under the pressure of the impact.

The airbag sensor was triggered.

puff puff!

The driver and passenger airbags deployed instantly, filling the space in front of Eric and cushioning some of the impact.

His body was tightly bound by the seatbelt, and the enormous inertia pulled him forward, but the airbag and seatbelt worked together to firmly press him back into the seat.

A brief moment of dizziness followed, but Eric regained his senses within fractions of a second after the impact.

He had anticipated the moment of impact, and his muscles tensed up before the collision, minimizing the damage.

Eric glanced at the wrecked, smoking van, took a deep breath, unbuckled his seatbelt, pushed open the somewhat deformed door, and stepped out.

He drew his custom 2011 Watchman pistol from his waist, held it in an isosceles triangle position against the Ford Raptor's body, and slowly stepped into the quiet van.

The muzzle of the gun was subtly adjusted as the line of sight moved, always pointing at the various windows and doors of the van.

My nose caught a strong smell of gasoline, burnt plastic, and blood mixed together.

As he closed the distance, Eric noticed that the driver's side door was twisted and deformed from the impact, and was half-open.

The driver, a man with a scar, was slumped over the steering wheel in an unnatural position, his head tilted back at an odd angle, and dark blood splattered all over the shattered windshield. He had clearly died the moment of impact.

Eric wasn't surprised; in a side impact like this, where the driver is directly facing the driver's seat, the probability of the driver dying is too high.

As he moved, Eric's gaze continued to sweep across the rear of the carriage.

The sliding door on the left side had completely fallen off, and the empty carriage was in a mess, with tools and weapons scattered all over the floor.

He heard a faint, blood-tinged groan as someone gasped for breath.

Eric lowered his center of gravity and carefully moved to the rear of the vehicle, always relying on cover to block the line of sight.

Eric found the protagonist a few steps away from the carriage on the driveway.

The thin man was curled up there, his body contorted in a painful angle, a small puddle of dark liquid pooling beneath him. His chest heaved violently but shallowly, each breath accompanied by a hissing sound of blood and foam. He was clearly not wearing a seatbelt and had been flung out by the terrifying centrifugal force the moment the car door was slammed open.

Without even looking, Eric knew that the guy's lungs were already filled with blood and he was doomed.

Eric felt relieved and turned his attention back to the carriage.

The sinister man was still inside the car, but the door on his side was severely dented inwards from the impact, squeezing him in the middle.

Not only was his head covered in blood, but one arm was bent at an odd angle. More importantly, the person was still conscious, letting out a painful groan, while his other hand, which was still functional, was weakly flailing about.

"Its vitality is quite tenacious." Eric put away the Watcher 2011, lowered his body, and leaned into the carriage.

The sinister man sensed someone approaching and struggled to lift his blood-stained face, his intact hand instinctively reaching for something.

But Eric's left hand had already reached out and pressed down hard on the gloomy man's forehead, slamming his head against the deformed passenger seat, leaving his neck completely exposed and unable to move.

Immediately afterwards, he grabbed the sinister man's chin with his right hand and twisted his hands along the cervical spine axis.

click!
A sound of bones breaking rang out.

The sinister man's body convulsed violently for a moment, then fell silent.

Eric released his grip, his eyes expressionless. He would never show mercy to his enemies; if they were dead, all the better, but if they weren't, he would find a way to kill them.

He glanced around the car and began searching for useful clues.

Having clues is great, but not having them is not a big deal.

But Eric still managed to find a black shoulder bag under the driver's seat, which was half-pressed down by the scarred man's body.

Eric pulled it out and quickly rummaged through it in the dim light inside the car.

Magazines, weapons, everything else was ignored; only a stack of hard-copy documents was found.

Eric frowned as soon as he turned the first page.

Because this document contains all of Tifa's personal information.

The three men's goal was quite clear: they came for Tifa, but their plan backfired.

Eric secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Thankfully, his house renovation was finished, and he had left Tifa at home; otherwise…
Hearing the faint sound of police sirens in the distance, Eric dropped his satchel and folded all the documents, stuffing them into his pocket.

I need to go back and review the specifics with Tifa.

In the distance, the sirens of police cars grew closer. Eric stepped out of the car and looked at the red and blue lights that were visible from a great distance.

"I just don't know if it's Holland and Levin," Eric thought to himself, shaking his head.

He knew about the gunfight outside long ago through his mobile phone's real-time monitoring; otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to track the van's route in advance.

Moreover, this area is within the jurisdiction of the Wilshire Police Department, so apart from Holland and Levin, he doesn't know many colleagues.

As the police car emerged with its windshield shattered, Eric relaxed; it was Holland and Levin.

Eric quickly reviewed the possible scenarios in his mind, then went to meet them and raised his right hand to beckon.

-

Levin drove the police car with its windshield shattered and the front riddled with bullet holes, both he and Holland on edge.

Suddenly, Holland sat bolt upright, pointing straight ahead. He saw something and looked utterly horrified.

Hey! Look over there!

Levin looked in the direction his partner pointed and saw a scene of chaos at the intersection not far ahead.

A severely deformed dark-colored van lay overturned on the side of the road, wisps of white smoke still billowing from its front.

A familiar figure was standing nearby, raising his hand and waving at them, his relaxed demeanor like someone casually greeting someone they bumped into on the street.

"What the hell? That's Eric?" Levin couldn't believe his eyes and thought he was hallucinating.

He subconsciously eased off the accelerator, and the police car slowed down.

"How did he get here? And is that Raptor his car?"

Holland also spotted the Ford Raptor with its slightly deformed front end further away. Unable to answer, he shouted incredulously into the empty windshield:

"Eric? What the hell? How did you get here?"

They had just exchanged fire with the gang of thugs outside Eric's house and then chased them all the way here, only to find Eric, who was clearly not home, suddenly appearing here.

"This"

The police car stopped a few meters in front of Eric.

Eric looked at the two bewildered and dazed faces in the car, and simply shrugged and greeted them.

"Holland, Levin, are you on the night shift again?"

Holland and Levin looked completely bewildered as they got out of the car, their eyes darting quickly between Eric, the wrecked Raptor, and the van.

“Holy shit!” Holland’s voice rose eight octaves.

"Eric, is this Raptor yours? Don't tell me you stopped them all by yourself? By ramming it?"

Levin looked at Eric, who was calm and clean, and his cheeks twitched. He inexplicably recalled the calm look on Eric's face when he and Holland opened the door after killing ten people after they came to the door because of the gunshot.

Eric wasn't even scratched at that time. He really is worthy of being called Eric the Grim Reaper!
“I rushed back as soon as I received the system alert,” Eric said succinctly, meeting the gazes of the two men, his words betraying no trace of the violent clash he had just experienced.

"So unfortunately, they just happened to run into them."

Holland and Levin exchanged a glance, both seeing the same thought in each other's eyes: "How unlucky are these guys to run into death the moment they stepped out!"

Holland took a deep breath, forcing himself to recover from his chaotic emotions.

How are the people inside?

Eric's gaze swept over the van: "The accident was serious."

Eric avoided specific details, attributing the outcome entirely to the car crash.

"The driver was the first to be hit and died instantly, and the other person was thrown out during the impact and looks like he's not going to make it either."

There was one last person trapped inside the carriage, but when I checked, they were already dead.

Holland and Levin remained silent. As veteran patrol officers, they naturally understood that things might not be so simple.

But the scene, the horrific state of the Raptor's front end, and the twisted state of the van perfectly corroborated Eric's account.

This was a car accident scene with extremely serious consequences, seemingly without any faults.

"Fine, they're just unlucky to have run into you." Holland finally wiped his face and shrugged helplessly.

"This is going to be a big mess, Eric."

(End of this chapter)