North American Patrol: American Iaido

Chapter 3 Arrival

Hearing Talib's screaming voice, Yorke pictured a cute little girl who called him Uncle Yorke all the time.

"That's enough."

Upon hearing the gunshots coming from his phone, Yorke immediately hung up and dialed a number.

As he dialed the number, he was already heading towards the tactical belt on the platform in front of him.

"Feed?"

As soon as the call connected, Yorke picked up the tactical belt with one hand and fastened it around his waist.

"Olha, I have to go to work."

Orha, a second-class police superintendent, is the duty commander of their patrol department, literally meaning the head of the patrol department in the entire area.

Here we must mention the organizational structure of the Los Angeles Police Department.

The Los Angeles Police Department has 21 precincts, which are further divided into four divisions, or four command districts.

Central Branch, Southern Branch, Canyon Branch, Western Branch.

Below the four command areas are 21 sub-regions.

His district is the No. 10 Police Station in the West Canyon District.

The West Canyon area is relatively close to Hollywood and Beverly Hills, the most famous ultra-wealthy areas in Los Angeles, so the security situation is generally quite strict.

But clearly, the crime rate in this parallel world, which is exactly the same as the previous one, is unusually high.

Orja, a dark-skinned middle-aged man with a few stubborn strands of hair on his head, stood in the office, frowning as he spoke:

"You found out?"

"Yes, Talibor just called me. The suspect is firing at me quite fiercely, and he's almost at his limit," York said calmly, but his words were remarkably clear.

He fastened his tactical belt.

"The gunfight is very close to here, so I should be faster than the reinforcements."

Upon hearing this, Orha sighed and placed the documents in his hand on the table.

"Approved. Your administrative leave ended yesterday. Remember to submit your leave request form from this morning."

At this point, Orha warned, "Things happen suddenly. I'm only allowing this once, York. Next time, you'll have to..."

Before he could finish speaking, the notification sound of the call being disconnected interrupted Orha's words.

"This guy is as annoying as ever," Orha thought helplessly, looking at his phone.

"However, it's because his father is the chief of the Los Angeles Police Department."

-

York was unaware of Orha's complaints, but even if he had, he wouldn't have taken them seriously, as he was a seasoned veteran who had been firmly rooted in the West Canyon District patrol department for almost two years.

So even if his father wasn't the current Los Angeles Police Department Chief and Commissioner General, his relationship with Orha alone would have been enough to make Orha back down.

This was simply because Orja was a protective man, and the last thing he wanted was for his men to get injured.

"But I hope I won't have to take administrative leave again this time?" Yorke said, briefly checking the single-action revolver and Beretta 92Fs pistol in his tactical belt.

They were all his personal sidearms, but the Beretta 92Fs was the same as the sidearm he kept at the police station.

The two terms have slightly different meanings.

Handguns: refers to firearms carried by military, police, or other law enforcement personnel. These can be self-purchased firearms used for work purposes or firearms issued by their unit.

Arms: refers to firearms issued by military, police/other law enforcement agencies and security departments to personnel who are qualified to carry weapons. The ownership of the firearms belongs to the unit, and the personnel carrying them only have the right to use them. Therefore, he had already handed them over after his administrative leave.

The Beretta 92F was once the standard issue weapon for the Los Angeles Police Department.

Since his father took office, there have been many improvements to firearms.

After graduating from the academy and passing their probationary period, police officers can choose to purchase weapons as their sidearms for carrying and use. The selection of models includes a range of handguns such as Beretta, S&W, and Glock.

When he entered the police station, he chose the Beretta 92fs, not for any particular reason, but simply because he thought it looked good.

His current situation is that the revolver takes the initiative, and then, depending on the situation, the Beretta 92fs provides additional firepower.

Yorke glanced back at the shooting range, then picked up the car keys from the table and headed outside.

Outside was a large open space, with rows of low houses standing on both sides, only a few meters apart. Looking out from these low houses, one could see the bustling skyscrapers on the horizon.

This was the location he chose for his shooting club, and it at least met the requirement of being far away from residents and residential areas.

Of course, this large area cost a lot of money. It can be said that after successfully setting up this small private shooting club, he owed his grandfather a lot of money.

Yes, he is a miserable debtor who has been working for the Los Angeles Police Department for almost two years and still hasn't paid off his debts.

After all, a patrol officer's annual salary, excluding some good benefits, is only around $100,000 before taxes.

Yorke strode straight toward a muscle car parked in the open space.

The Ford F150 Raptor is a very common pickup truck muscle car on the streets or farms of the Free Country.

It's quite suitable for his tall stature of 187cm, and he doesn't feel cramped when sitting in it.

boom!

After York closed the car door, he pressed the start button, and the Ford Raptor roared powerfully from under his rear.

But as the car shook, along with the coffee that had been placed on the tray, Yorke slammed on the gas pedal, flooring it.

boom!

With a deafening roar, the tires left a trail, and riding the cloud of dust, the Ford Raptor shot forward like an arrow.

-

31 Bogle Street.

Gunshots rang out throughout the area.

A fierce gunfight is taking place on a street lined with villas with their own yards on both sides.

The residents all fled in panic or hid in their homes, too afraid to show their faces.

Two black and white police cars with police station markings and red and blue flashing lights were already parked at the front of the street.

Bang bang bang!

Talibo was hiding behind a two-seater patrol car, sparks flying from the car above him.

This was caused by a bullet hitting a police car; under such fierce firepower, Talibo dared not show his face at all.

At his feet lay three wounded police officers, bleeding and looking weak.

"Shit!" Talibor cursed under his breath. He hadn't expected things to be this bad before he came to help.

I couldn't help but glance at the single-person patrol car that was a good forty meters away from us.

That was the police car he drove when he came to provide support. If we could move it over there, we would have more room to maneuver, but we couldn't.

Bang bang bang!

Gunshots continued to ring out, indicating that the suspect, who was only about thirty meters away, was keeping a close eye on him.

Talibor sat on the ground, leaning against the car body, looking at his colleague lying on the ground, bewildered and unaware of what was happening. He licked his dry lips from nervousness and peeked back.

Through the rearview mirror of a police car next to him, he noticed that the suspect was carrying a 300BLK-Honey Badger and was shooting as he walked toward him.

The suspect was even carrying what appeared to be an HK416 automatic rifle.

The firepower was quite fierce, so much so that he didn't dare to peek out and fight back. After all, he was afraid of dying, especially after his daughter was born. He had been slacking off whenever possible, issuing tickets and drinking coffee on the roadside to get by.

He didn't want to lose his life for a job.

(End of this chapter)