I'm building Gundams in America

Chapter 200 A Dark and Windy Night for Murder (Seeking Monthly Tickets)

Wayne usually wore a loose robe and had a slightly unshaven face, and most of the time he showed the compassion of a saint.

Therefore, everyone subconsciously believed that Mr. Wayne should be like the pastors in churches, often paying more attention to spiritual cultivation.

As for physical strength, he should be completely powerless.

But when they saw Wayne in his combat uniform holding an automatic rifle, the ICE agents were all stunned.

His physique is similar to that of Henry Cavill, the actor who played Superman.

However, Wayne had changed into this tactical gear, with several bulletproof plates inserted, and wore a black mask. His aura was completely the opposite of that of Saint Wayne.

He was like a black god of death descended from hell.

This appearance immediately excited all the ICE agents present.

For teams about to enter battle, nothing is more reassuring than a battle priest.

"Manager Wayne is so handsome! He's just like a State priest from Warhammer!"

"Wow, I feel like with Supervisor Wayne around, I can take down at least twice as many illegal immigrants!"

"Brilliant! Manager Wayne, please bless me before I go into battle!"

The ICE agents applauded and shouted, or whistled to cheer for Wayne's appearance.

Who wouldn't love a handsome and cool priest on our side?

Of course, the agents present didn't have high expectations for Wayne's marksmanship and combat skills.

Building muscle at the gym and firing a gun on the battlefield are two different things.

Many of the agents present were retired from the U.S. military and had killed people on the battlefields of the Middle East.

They all understood that true gunfight skills couldn't be acquired easily through training.

One must actually engage in face-to-face combat with the enemy to gradually develop skills.

Wayne clearly doesn't have that option.

However, they didn't expect Wayne to actually join the battle; that was enough for them.

In the command vehicle, Supervisor Hunter glanced at Wayne, who was sitting next to him, and said in a deep voice through the radio, "Let's go!"

SUVs and armored vehicles roared out of the building housing the Seattle field office.

Dusk had fallen.

This should have been dinner time, but the case couldn't wait.

Thinking of the hungry illegal immigrants and the beckoning reward, the ICE agents no longer felt hungry.

Let's feed the bullets to those starving illegal immigrants first.

"Director Wayne, here you go." Hunter handed over an energy bar, saying somewhat nervously, "I've given Director Camilla a brief report on the operation. She takes it very seriously and plans to meet with you after the operation is complete—"

"I hope our operation will be a complete success—"

Fifty agents were deployed at once, and the matter was reported to the director.

This is definitely a big job.

If he fails, he won't know how to explain it to his superiors.

He might even be dismissed.

After all, the ICE Seattle field office is currently under intense scrutiny.

Wayne nodded as he ate his energy bar and said, "Don't worry, Hunter, God is on our side."

As he spoke, he raised his hand and patted Hunter's shoulder, instantly unleashing the "divine awe" effect of the Messiah Ring.

Hunter, who had been extremely nervous and uneasy, trembled all over, suddenly recovering from the high tension and calming down instantly.

He took a deep breath, looked at Wayne, and said, "Thank you, Mr. Saint, I feel much better after hearing your words—"

The address provided by Wayne is located in the Beacon Hill neighborhood south of Seattle.

The houses here are mostly typical mid-range, cost-effective buildings in the suburbs of the city.

The area is mainly composed of old-style bungalows, renovated detached houses, and modern townhouses, making commuting convenient, and the price is also lower than that of the East District.

A decent villa with a scenic view costs only around 100 million US dollars.

It's also less than a 20-minute drive from the ICE Seattle field office.

Soon, the ICE vehicle arrived at a landscaped luxury residential community and stopped a few dozen meters away from the target building.

The target building was a two-story detached villa with a yard and a private swimming pool, which was brightly lit and seemed to be hosting a party.

The car doors opened, and a group of fully armed ICE agents poured out and crept towards the target building.

In the darkness, if it weren't for the huge ICE logo on their bodies, these masked ICE agents would be virtually indistinguishable from terrorists.

Wayne also got out of the command vehicle at this moment, frowned and asked Hunter beside him, "Chief Hunter, why not conduct drone reconnaissance?"

Hunter gave a wry smile and said, "ICE has tactical drone use permits, but they are mainly obtained through interagency support from CBP (Customs and Border Protection). We do not have an independently organized fleet."

"And as you know, Washington is a blue state. People there would rather die than see drones. The use of drones and infrared technology here must comply with federal laws and DHS regulations, and even then, we're constantly criticized for privacy violations and excessive enforcement—"

"Every operation requiring the use of drones must go through complex legal authorization and approval processes, and must also avoid specific areas —"

"This was a last-minute operation, and there wasn't enough time to apply for drones. Fortunately, the intelligence you provided was detailed enough, and with the infrared night vision goggles, that should suffice."

Hunter was initially a little frustrated, but later became very confident.

After all, on American soil, ICE has been virtually invincible in arresting illegal immigrants, and has never suffered a setback.

Since ICE was founded in 2003, only about 30 people have died in the line of duty, all of whom died from illness, accidents, or suicide.

No ICE agent has ever been killed by an illegal immigrant!

Not to mention that their power has now been strengthened to an unprecedented degree.

What the FBI can't handle, ICE will. What the CIA dares not handle, ICE will handle!

Execute first, report later—King Trump has given special permission!

Just then, a group of ICE agents not far away surrounded the target villa, preparing to storm in through the front door.

Kicking down the door head-on is a common tactic used by ICE.

Just then, a piercing whistle suddenly rang out from the roadside.

An obese white woman, glaring at the ICE agents in front of her, was frantically blowing her whistle!

The piercing whistle instantly broke the silence of the night, sounding particularly harsh!

Hunter's face turned deathly pale instantly, and he cursed, "It was that damn nationwide ICE alert that stopped it! I hate Blue State!"

"Break in! Break in immediately!"

Inside the villa, a young Latin American man with a mustache, wearing a striped shirt and shorts, was sitting on the sofa in the living room, drinking tequila and smoking a cigar.

It was Pepe Cervantes.

A heavily made-up Latina woman, whose figure was somewhat exaggerated due to multiple plastic surgeries, curled up obediently beside him like a kitten, massaging his hairy thighs.

It was his mistress, Maria.

I had a blast at a nightclub downtown last night and met two local girls. I didn't come back until almost dawn.

He had only just woken up from his hangover.

-

His unrestrained behavior was not due to his desire for pleasure.

It was precisely after careful consideration that this was done.

Having just arrived in Seattle, and especially with a group of fully armed men, having just settled things with the local CJNG forces, he planned to lie low for a few more days.

Too many consecutive actions could easily attract the attention of local authorities, and if it draws the attention of the DEA or local police, it could cause serious trouble.

Therefore, we might as well have some fun these few days.

"You mean, that damn Saints Gang clown, that self-proclaimed saint, asked me for a three-day grace period?"

Pepe blew a puff of smoke toward Matteo, who was standing opposite him, and raised an eyebrow as he spoke.

As he spoke, he reached into Maria's arms, who had an exaggerated figure, and squeezed her forcefully.

This caused Maria to let out a low cry of pain.

As a local beauty queen in Mexico, Maria had long been kept by Pepe and had undergone plastic surgery according to his preferences, resulting in her current exaggerated figure.

She always understood that, to Pepe, she was nothing more than a plaything.

This is why South American countries are so keen on holding beauty pageants, and it's also the fate of those beauty pageant winners.

She underwent plastic surgery to become a drug lord's woman.

Continue with plastic surgery, aiming for the exaggerated physiques favored by drug lords.

Then they might become part of a drug cartel, or one day be discarded or even killed by drug lords after they've grown tired of them.

Seeing the scene before him, Matteo's eyes flashed with pity. He then took a deep breath and respectfully said to Pepe, "Yes, boss, the leader of the Saints Gang is known as the Saint of the South, but after hearing your name, he was terrified and immediately declared that he was ready to submit to you."

"He said he needed three days to make some arrangements, gather the homeless people, and tidy up the streets. He said he would invite us to Saint Street immediately after three days."

"Ever since we killed two people and injured one of his trusted men on that street, he's been terrified and doesn't dare to resist at all. Taking control of that street is a piece of cake for us."

Pepe picked up her glass, swirling the golden liquid inside, and shook her head, saying, "No, he doesn't respect me. I just got here from Mexico a few days ago, how would he know me? He respects the CJNG name, he respects Mr. Menjo—Matto, how can you always be so stupid?"

Matteo quickly bowed his head and said, "Yes, boss."

Pepe downed his drink in one gulp and said, "Give him three days? Impossible. You shouldn't trust these damn Americans. These are the same people who have been burning, killing, and looting all the way from Mexico to Argentina. They're much more cunning than us Mexicans."

"He'll just use these three days to set traps and wait for us to get there, or he might simply collude with the Seattle police."

Pepe's eyes flashed with a ruthless glint. She slammed her cup heavily on the table and said, "We can't wait any longer. Tomorrow morning, you go and pinpoint this damn clown saint's location. Keep an eye on him, and by tomorrow night we'll move in!"

"Once we catch this so-called saint, we'll make him into a human head apple and hang it at the entrance of Saint Street so everyone can see what happens when you don't obey CJNG."

"I'm going to establish my authority in Seattle's underworld, starting with this saint!"

Pepe's performance exceeded Matteo's expectations.

Although the other party enjoys pleasure, he is by no means a fool, and even has some of the demeanor of a ruthless leader.

If that's the case, he can no longer listen to Wayne; he must kill that so-called saint Wayne to protect his secret.

Matteo's mind raced.

Just then, a piercing whistle suddenly came from the silent night outside the window.

Pepe was taken aback and asked, "What was that sound? Why is someone blowing a whistle? Is there a football field outside?"

He had only rented the place a few days ago and didn't know much about the community.

Matteo and the others shook their heads, not understanding what it meant.

Pepe frowned and gestured to one of the armed bodyguards beside her, saying, "Go check it out."

Suddenly, a loud explosion erupted from the front yard, followed by a barrage of gunfire and shouts.

"ICE!"