America: Starting with Daily Intelligence
Chapter 462 - 233: Trade

Chapter 462: Chapter 233: Trade

"I was defending myself! He threatened my life with a fire axe!" Old Jack argued unconvincingly: "Texas law says I can do that!"

"Why did you shoot so many times then? Don’t you know that’s also threatening others’ lives, a criminal act? You are disturbing the public order. Come back to the station with us for investigation. You’ll have to pay a fine of 4000 US dollars and be detained for 7 days," the officer reprimanded.

"I only have Mexican pesos," replied Old Jack.

"I gather you’re not a local, you must have swum over from the city across the river. For that, I will also charge you with illegal border crossing and smuggling. You need to pay an additional bail of 50,000 US dollars to get out of jail."

Faced with arrest and accusations from the officer, Old Jack was cornered and turned to pull out another gun from the car.

"Fxxk you!" Seeing his move, the officer quickly drew a Glock 17 from his holster and fired a flurry of shots while retreating and called in on his radio, "Shots fired! Shots fired!! Requesting backup!!"

Upon receiving the officer’s report, sirens wailed as police cars rushed through from another street, charging recklessly. Private cars at the intersection couldn’t get out of the way fast enough and were unfortunately caught in the fray. The arriving officers didn’t say a word and just started shooting!

Bang bang bang bang! The black Ford Mustang was riddled with bullets, its tires blown out.

The white driver, who had initially dodged Old Jack’s shooting and was unscathed, was inexplicably hit by several bullets and immediately collapsed on the ground.

Just like that, both were whisked away!

Swift and decisive.

The efficiency of this police action and case handling was incredibly fast! It was stunning.

But the passersby nearby acted as if it was all commonplace.

If you can’t solve the problem, eliminate the person causing the problem.

Now that the officers had neutralized their target, they began to secure the scene and put up barricades, reporting to dispatch that they had killed two criminals.

Upon verification, it turned out that Old Jack had been living locally for more than half a year and had a history of trafficking South American imports, while the white man was a mentally ill individual suffering from manic depression who had been released from prison just a few days ago; the car he was driving was stolen.

Well then, they ended up accidentally executing justice!

Why on earth would you be fighting on the streets? If you weren’t fighting, you might not even die.

"Is everyone here like this?" Allen Zhang watched the shootout happening at the intersection from behind a window.

He sighed, thinking that if this were Los Angeles, the police officers would never handle cases this efficiently and carelessly. At the very least, when facing white people, they would consider adhering to some shooting protocols, otherwise, instead of administrative leave, they’d be out of a job.

It’s not like here, where a shot is fired and a quick ID check reveals a criminal record.

No wonder they make such decisive shots.

"What else can you do?" Old Jack turned the steering wheel, leaving the neighborhood through another intersection, and said indifferently, "All these fence jumpers or swimmers are desperados; no one can assure what they’re involved in, how many lives they’ve taken. Here, being a police officer, to some extent, means you aren’t bound by the law. If the other person poses a threat to society and yourself, lacks United States citizenship, you have the right to arrest, interrogate, and shoot to pass judgment!"

After driving around Laredo for over two hours to get familiar with the local environment and routes, and enjoying the beautiful scenery of Night City, they finally stopped the car at a Mexican-style restaurant.

As soon as they got out, some scantily clad Latina girls waiting on the roadside approached, greeting them enthusiastically, "Hey! Gentlemen! Need some company?"

"Sorry, ladies, not now," Old Jack replied with a beaming smile, not at all rejecting the warmth of the street beauties, hugging them from left and right.

He slapped one on her perky behind, which jiggled like jelly, drawing playful complaints from the girls.

One must admit, the quality of Latina beauties here is excellent, each one more voluptuous than the last.

This is paradise indeed!

"Maybe we’ll have time for your business after we’re done. What’s your name, where do you live?" Old Jack started to pry.

"We live in the Motel next door, room 209, sir. Here’s my contact, remember to come find us," the girls waved their hands and reluctantly turned to leave.

Old Jack cheerfully saw them off and then instantly changed his expression, cursing under his breath: "Damn it, they’re definitely into some love scam."

"How do you know?" Allen Zhang raised his eyebrows; you look like you were enjoying it.

"I’ve been here before, I know what they’re up to when they stick their butts out. I’m an old man, clearly an outsider; they are definitely looking to make a quick buck off me," Old Jack sneered.

"Many grey industries around here have their bosses, and if these girls can be streetwalkers, it means they have support behind them. Their usual trick is to lure outsiders to the Motel to set up a scam, extort money from you. At best, they might genuinely provide services, then get you to sniff coco, buy their touted products. The worst outcome? To be tied up and sold to those in need, shipped across to Mexico on a black boat, nobody knows what ends up happening."