Law America, the Devil's Agent

Several days later, in the early morning, in the North Side of Philadelphia.

At the border between the territories of the South African Gang and the Blood Hand Gang, on a narrow buffer zone separated by abandoned railway tracks, the early morning mist had not yet dissipated.

On the graffiti wall at the street corner, the red handprint logo of the Bloody Hands gang and the black shield logo of the South African gang each occupy one side.

This is the division of territory between two gangs, defining the spheres of influence of both sides.

A black SUV was parked quietly on the side of the road closer to the South African side.

Mankla, the leader of the South African gang, was sitting in the back seat. The refined gangster boss's gold-rimmed glasses reflected the hazy sunlight from the window.

He was wearing a dark tactical jacket today. As he watched the second hand of his watch complete a full circle, he looked up and nodded to the driver in the front seat.

The driver got out of the car and headed towards the gang's gathering point deep inside.

"Have you confirmed the location, Gerard and the others?"

Mankla picked up the walkie-talkie and whispered a few words in Xhosa.

Two short static noises came back from the walkie-talkie as confirmation.

He put down the walkie-talkie and turned to look at the Chinese lawyer next to him who was leisurely scrolling through his phone while leaning back in the back seat.

"The big wig is coming!"

Link simply replied with a smile.

"Good news."

He didn't look up; he simply typed the last line of text on the screen, then switched to the call interface and dialed a number.

"I said, how much longer?"

Daniel's rough voice came from the other end of the phone, and the low rumble of a diesel engine could be faintly heard in the background.

"Coming right away. I've got some serious stuff for you today."

A moment later, the roar of a heavy engine came from the end of the street.

It was definitely not the engine of an ordinary modified car; it was the deep, dense, and oppressive sound of a diesel engine that could only be heard during military convoys.

Mancla and Link looked back:

Two enormous beasts, beyond description, slowly emerged from the morning mist.

Mankla pushed open the car door, stood up straight, and looked up at the two monsters that were slowly approaching him.

His lips opened and then closed.

He was someone who had witnessed street violence many times.

They fought for territory in the slums of Johannesburg with machetes and iron bars, and robbed the black market in the dark alleys of North Philadelphia with pistols and shotguns.

  

But he had never seen anything like this in the midst of a gang war in his entire life.

"What...what is this...?"

"Of course, it's reinforcements, Mr. Mankla."

Link finally looked up, put his phone in his pocket, opened the car door, and walked to Mankla's side.

The morning breeze ruffled the hem of his suit jacket as he watched his reinforcements stop in the middle of the street, a cheerful smile appearing on his lips.

"As I said, I have my own reasons for seeking cooperation with you."

Now, the battle begins.

……

……

Blood Angels Bar.

The Blood Hand Gang's headquarters were hidden on the ground floor of this three-story brick building, while their underground black market for medicines was located upstairs.

The fentanyl and midazolam that leaked from Philadelphia General Hospital were repackaged here and distributed on the streets.

It was early morning, and most of the Blood Hands gang members were still hungover and sleepy, not fully awake.

Two young men on guard duty at the door were leaning against the wall, sharing a cigarette.

But just then, a noise they could not possibly ignore shattered their sleepiness.

It was a deep, mechanical roar they had never heard before.

One of them pricked up his ears and looked toward the street corner, then the cigarette slipped from his lips.

He saw a sight he had never seen before in his life.

Two black armored vehicles were driving side by side out of the morning mist, their blast-proof searchlights on the roofs lighting up simultaneously, illuminating the entire street as if it were daytime.

The rear doors of the armored vehicles opened simultaneously, and more than a dozen figures wearing dark tactical vests and bulletproof helmets poured out.

Before he could even yell a warning along with his companion, two silencer sounds rang out.

He then felt a sharp pain in his head, and the world spun around him before he collapsed to the ground.

The two AnDun members who raised their guns didn't say much; they simply dealt with them and quickly returned to their unit.

Their movements were clean and efficient, without shouting or firing warning shots, only brief commands over the walkie-talkie and the sound of boots pounding on the sidewalk.

The leader was Daniel Carter, a former Marine Corps reconnaissance sniper and head of the tactical operations team at Anton Security.

"A frontal assault. Drones take off."

All exits are sealed off. There are no non-combatants present; those with weapons may use their own judgment to hunt and kill as needed.

Go! Go! Go!

A miniature reconnaissance drone was launched from the top of the armored vehicle and hovered above the bar, transmitting real-time footage of the rooftop and back alley to the tactical tablet on Daniel's wrist.

"Two people in the back alley, holding pistols."

A man on the rooftop, holding a shotgun.

He spoke into his headset and then made two hand gestures. Two veterans silently flanked him from the side.

A moment later, two short, muffled thuds came from the direction of the back alley—

Another silenced weapon, followed by the sound of a heavy object falling to the ground.

In the drone footage, the person on the rooftop with a shotgun is frantically searching for cover.

Without firing a single shot, all three outer outposts were eliminated.

The armored vehicle continued to advance, its ramming front bumper smashing open the bar's iron gate.

The Blood Hands members inside finally reacted, and someone leaned out of a second-floor window, firing submachine guns at the armored vehicle.

The bullets struck the armor plating, sending up a string of sparks, but the armored vehicle remained unharmed.

The explosion-proof searchlight on the roof turned towards that window, and the blinding white light made the gunman instinctively close his eyes.

The next second, a tear gas canister shot into the second floor through the gap in the car window, and the entire floor was instantly engulfed in choking white smoke.

……

News of the commotion in the Blood Hand Gang's core area slowly spread.

"All the South African gangs! Go! Go!"

Mankla's voice came from across the street.

He stood on the back of a pickup truck, and with a wave of his arm, dozens of South African gang members armed with machetes, baseball bats, and pistols surged out from behind him, flanking the side passages on both sides of the bar.

Their mission is not to fight in the core area—

Because that place is a paradise for the veterans of Antion.

—They came to clear out the scattered gang members who had been driven out by tear gas and armored vehicles.

The Blood Hands gang members stumbled out of the back door and side windows, only to run into the South African gang's blades before they could even get a good look at their surroundings.

Street gang fights have always been chaotic and bloody, but today is different.

Today's chaos was overseen by drones overhead, with two armored vehicles running over it head-on, and a dozen battle-hardened veterans precisely filling in at every critical juncture.

This isn't a firefight, it's a joint harvest.

The battle lasted for almost a whole morning.

The gunfire went from dense to sparse, and from sparse to sporadic.

The neighborhood seemed to have been muted; even the stray dogs nearby tucked their tails between their legs and hid in the sewers.

Not a single police officer arrived.

Sitting in the car, Link, who had a complete overview of the situation, knew that there was a DEA cordon around the perimeter controlled by Miles White.

Today, this area is marked as a "federal law enforcement operations area" on police channels, and police forces are kept behind police lines everywhere.

As the gunfire subsided, Mankla and his gang began cleaning up the mess.

The drone was still circling in the sky, occasionally firing a red laser beam towards a corner—

That was Daniel marking the scattered, disorganized soldiers still putting up a last-ditch resistance for the South African team.

Each time a red dot lands, it is followed by a burst of gunfire, and then the red dot moves to the next target.

Link drove the black sedan alone, slowly heading towards the Blood Angels Bar.

Three cell phones were spread out on the center console, connected to Benny, Mankla, and Daniel respectively.

Benny was responsible for coordinating with Miles' DEA team on the periphery, monitoring loose gang members trying to escape the blockade area in real time, intercepting them one by one, disarming them, and handcuffing them on the hood of police cars.

Mankla reports on the progress of the surrounding cleaning.

All seven of the Blood Hand Gang's strongholds outside the bar have been wiped out, and the captured members are being loaded onto trucks in batches.

Daniel then reported on the sweeping progress in the core area:

The bar has been completely cleared out, and the An Dun team is searching Gerard's private area floor by floor, but so far they have not found any trace of Gerard himself.

Outside the car window, a few sporadic gunshots occasionally rang out on the messy street, followed by the rough shouts of members of the South African gang.

Link listened to the reports from the three parties with a blank expression, his eyes fixed on the front.

Then he heard the roar of a motorcycle engine.

It wasn't the tactical motorcycle brought by AnDun, nor the pickup truck from the South African group.

It was a red heavy motorcycle, rushing out of the back alley of the bar, its rear wheel leaving a charred arc on the wet pavement as it sped away in its direction.

The rider was burly, wearing a white shirt stained with blood, and clutching a pistol in his right hand.

Link saw the face contorted with fear and rage.

He was Gerard, the leader of the Bloodhands.

Link calmly stepped on the brakes, then opened the car door to use as cover.

Then he drew the Glock 17 from under his ribs with his right hand and finally raised the gun.

[Firearms Shooting - Expert Level], activated.

The crosshair stopped above the windshield, my breath hitched, and the trigger was pressed to the limit by my fingertip.

"boom--"

First shot.

The motorcycle's rear tire blew out, causing the motorcycle to tilt violently to the side, and Gerard's body was thrown forward by inertia.

He gripped the handlebars tightly with one hand, trying to straighten the bike, while firing his gun haphazardly at Link with his left hand.

The bullet struck the car door, sending up a shower of metallic sparks.

"boom--"

The second shot.

Gerard's left shoulder exploded in a cloud of blood mist, and the pistol flew out of his loosened fingers, landing on the ground and spinning for more than ten feet.

He tumbled off the motorcycle and crashed heavily onto the asphalt road, his right leg trapped under the frame, letting out a muffled scream.

Link then slowly stood up, and the two bulky armored vehicles behind him drove up from both ends of the street and came to a steady stop in front of and behind Gerald.

The security personnel from AnDun Company quickly surrounded the man who was groaning in pain.

Daniel jumped out of the passenger seat of the lead car, glanced at Link leaning against the door, putting his Glock back into its holster, and said loudly:

"Two shots. Rear wheel plus left shoulder. Moving target."

He walked up to Link and punched him on the shoulder with his fist:

"It's a real shame you don't join the army."

"It's just luck."

Link straightened his suit collar, tucked the holster back under his arm, and then slowly walked toward Gerard.

Gerard lay on his back on the cold asphalt, blood seeping from the wound on his left shoulder, his right leg pinned under the motorcycle frame, each breath accompanied by a painful groan.

His eyes were still fierce, but that fierceness was now mixed with too much fear.

Link crouched down in front of Gerard, looking down at him.

The morning light streamed down from behind him, casting shadows over his calm face, leaving only the smile at the corner of his mouth clearly visible.

"You're really hard to get a hold of, Mr. Gerard."