Chapter 125 Start Recording

With a bang, the rearview mirror broke on the spot.

Yorks watched the Ford pickup truck pass by with an expressionless face. Even with only the light from the street lamp, he could see the driver inside the Ford pickup truck through the lathe.

It was an unfamiliar face, but judging from the skin color and facial features, it was a Latino man.

York shook his head, buckled his seat belt again, and watched the Ford pickup truck deliberately smash the police car's rearview mirror and continue driving towards the intersection, committing the illegal act of running a red light in front of him.

"Oh, what a bunch of idiots."

York sighed, pushed his foot on the accelerator, and caught up with the Ford pickup truck that ran the red light.

"But I'm also a fool."

York controlled the steering wheel with one hand, followed the Ford pickup truck, turned on the siren and police lights, and signaled the Ford pickup truck that had broken the rearview mirror and ran a red light in front of him to stop.

But obviously, the Ford pickup truck did not stop, but continued to speed forward.

When it came to this, York stared at the rear of the Ford pickup truck, followed the procedure and picked up the walkie-talkie with one hand.

"Calling Dispatch, this is 10-L-11, 480 (hit-and-run) seeking 37 (suspicious veh/person),
A black Ford F-Series with license plate number 54R5 was seen traveling northbound on 47381th Street in Huber.

Requesting backup, helicopter and monitors."

Dispatch Center: “Received, notifying.”

After hearing the reply, Yorks put down the walkie-talkie calmly. No matter what it was, he had to vent his emotions, and at the same time, he had to resolve these potential unsafe factors.

"Kill two birds with one stone."

York stared at the Ford pickup truck that was taking him somewhere and just smiled, with indifference in his eyes.

Humans are creatures that will continue to evolve. Before he became a patrolman, he had a certain fear of the unknown. Simply put, he felt scared because of his cognition in his previous life, which can be described as fear of death.

But after working so hard and becoming a patrolman again, everything he experienced in the two years had made him a completely different person.

Now, he had only one goal. Instead of imagining how the enemy would attack him later, it would be better to solve these unsafe factors in advance.

As for whether or not to wait for support to arrive, that was not on his mind.

Because no matter how stupid the other party is, he should know that he should not take action when so many police officers come to support him.

Therefore, he has to face and resolve these unsafe factors by himself, otherwise he will have to remain vigilant and cautious all the time.

This was not the result he wanted. He had killed so many people and taken so many vacations, which had long proved that he, like Mr. Williams, was not a weak person.

"Fortunately, I made some preparations before going to work." York thought calmly. He followed the Ford pickup truck into a quiet neighborhood and finally stopped at the back door of a large apartment building.

This is a peaceful looking neighborhood.

The street lights are dim. In front is an intersecting lane. Extending beyond this lane is the pedestrian street next to this lane. There are shops on the side of the street, and a convenience store is open for business.

This is not a chaotic, lawless area, but rather an ordinary neighborhood with decent security and environment.

It seems that these guys are well prepared.

I knew that I had chosen this place to lower his vigilance, so that he would instinctively think that no one would ambush in this place.

York watched as a man suddenly got out of the Ford pickup truck that had stopped in front of him. He watched the Latino man continue to run towards the back door before he stopped the police car two meters away from the rear of the Ford pickup truck.

The back door of the apartment on the right is two meters high and connected to a staircase made of an iron frame.

The Latino man ran in, causing a series of clanking sounds, opened the back door that seemed to be unlocked, and disappeared after entering.

The whole process took only seven or eight seconds, creating the atmosphere of a desperate escape. Yorks unbuckled his seat belt, picked up the 12-gauge M870 shotgun hanging on the buckle, opened the door and got out of the car, heading for the trunk.

Opening the trunk, the M4A1 that had been assembled long ago was lying there quietly, with a full magazine next to it.

Seeing this, York first took out some sundries from his tactical belt one by one, such as handcuffs, anti-wolf spray, pens and notebooks, stun guns, high-voltage batons, high-intensity flashlights, disposable gloves, etc. and threw them into the trunk.

There were too many of these things and they were quite heavy. If added with the gun he was carrying, it would affect his movements.

In fact, combat does not really require a lot of things. To a certain extent, the simpler the better. Of course, this is only for him.

After going through countless trials and tribulations, no one knows himself better than he does.

After York removed all the debris, his tactical belt began to look empty, with only the two gun holsters on the right side still there.

A Beretta 92fs, the police service gun, and a Colt M1873, a personal sidearm registered with the police station.

There are two full magazines next to the holster, but they are all Beretta 92fs. The rest are Colt M1873 loaded with bullets, only five.

In fact, one thing about the police station’s guns that made him dissatisfied was that each gun and bullet had actually been modified, and their power would be slightly smaller than that of the unmodified Beretta 92FS.

Even the 12-gauge M870 shotgun in his hand was the same, and the 12-gauge shotgun shells he used were also reduced-charge bullets.

This made him quite regretful.

"It's better than nothing, but it's a pity that these guys didn't come to me to scam me when I was off work, otherwise I would have to let them know what's in my pickup truck." York muttered to himself.

But York thought about it and understood these guys, because generally speaking, people would just call the police for this kind of fraud, so it would be better to lure him over when he was enforcing the law.

Before doing anything, thinking about all sorts of things, York hung the 12-gauge M870 shotgun on his left shoulder, then picked up the fully equipped M4A1 from the trunk, and then took out its full magazine and buckled it into his tactical belt.

With two guns in hand, there is still some weight. After all, the 12-gauge M870 shotgun alone weighs 3.6kg. But with his current physical condition, York can't feel any impact at all.

This is why he also brings a shotgun, otherwise he will abandon the shotgun and choose M4A1 first.

Of course, another important point is that he was afraid of being stuck without a gun.

I don’t know if it’s the influence of his homeland in his previous life, but he also has the fear symptom of insufficient firepower.

However, with the 12-gauge M870 shotgun bullets, there are seven rounds, and with the M4A1, there are sixty-seven rounds in total.

If you add the six rounds of Colt M1873 + the five rounds in the belt, and the Beretta 92fs15 + the two magazines in the belt.

So the total number of bullets he can fire now is 123.

This is a pretty good number.

Especially for someone like him, it's quite good.

After all, people's levels are different. The quality of ten bullets fired by an expert is comparable to that of fifty bullets fired by a novice.

"I don't know how many people there will be, but for something like this, a dozen or so people is about the same."

Yorks breathed a sigh of relief, calmed his emotions and breath, squinted his eyes slightly to get into the state, closed the trunk and walked towards the back door of the apartment without hurrying.
On the way, York checked his equipment again to ensure that no unnecessary accidents would occur during the battle.

"Start recording."

York clicked the record button on the body camera on his chest and stepped onto the iron steps leading to the back door of the apartment.

My feet stepped on the steps, making a clanging sound.

Before reaching the back door, York began to set up the M4A1 and entered the apartment with a calm face.

(End of this chapter)