My Realistic Adult Game
Chapter 78 - 44: I’ll Give You One Minute—Try Threatening Me Differently

Chapter 78: Chapter 44: I’ll Give You One Minute—Try Threatening Me Differently

The alarm rang, the policewoman released me with her eyes closed, turned to the other side, and kicked me with her foot. "It’s time, I have to go to work. Damn day shift today."

Is this her way of telling me to leave?

I got dressed and left Stella’s apartment with the snacks I bought at the supermarket yesterday.

I wasn’t upset about her asking me to leave, because our identities destined us to remain hidden.

It would not only cause trouble for her but also for me.

If Johnny finds out I’m with the police, he’ll definitely label me as an undercover agent, making me an unwelcome person in the family, even giving them an excuse to kill me.

My relationship with Stella is dangerous yet sweet, making it hard to let go.

Looking over Biscayne Bay, I swore that I would become a resident here too.

I drove back to the Upper East Side apartment and walked into the dilapidated hallway.

I could hear discontented shouting from the neighbor’s house, probably the kids not getting up, and the mom shouting frantically and restlessly.

Reaching my floor, I carried my bag to the front door.

As I touched the keys in my pocket, my phone rang.

[Boss, where did you go last night?]

Ella sent a message.

[Didn’t you go to the club yesterday? I had things to do.]

Seeing my reply, the girl seemed to be in a better mood.

[I’m with Kelly now at Natasha’s house. We had a drink together after work last night. Want to come over to Natasha’s for dinner?]

[I have an appointment today. See you tonight.]

[Okay.]

Ella hung up the phone in disappointment, and Natasha and Kelly looked at her, "Is he coming?"

"He has plans today."

"Damn it!" The three women lay on the sofa, chatting unhappily.

I pulled out my keys and opened the apartment door.

The moment I stepped on the mat, I noticed footprints at the door.

These aren’t mine. I change into slippers when I get home, so these footprints aren’t mine. Someone came by, or rather someone came in.

I carried the bag, slowly felt behind my waist, took out the gun, pulled the slide, and lowered my footsteps, pretending to be on the phone.

"Amir, I told you, don’t move goods at the club."

I spoke as I checked the kitchen and living room.

There was no one inside, but the floor was covered in messy footprints.

Not only did someone come in, but there was more than one person.

Could it be the Haitians?

I walked to the kitchen, placed the bag by the fridge, opened the fridge, and took out a bird’s beak knife from the warmer.

My fingers slipped through the knife handle’s loop. The blade spun two loops in my hand before I gripped the handle tightly, my left hand holding the dagger, essentially gripping the handle with the blade facing down, while my right hand held my Glock 18. Picking up the remote, I turned on the TV to the maximum volume.

The sound from the TV soon filled the living room.

I slowly walked to the bedroom door.

I remember that when I left the apartment, the bedroom wasn’t locked. Did Kelly close the door?

No, there are footprints on the floor.

I didn’t open the door but moved to the side of the bedroom door, pressing the gun muzzle against the composite wooden wall.

Bam!

I pulled the trigger without hesitation.

The bullet left the chamber with immense kinetic energy, spinning through the composite wood, bam!

"Ahhh!"

A roar came from inside the bedroom. "Hey buddy, are you okay?"

There’s someone.

I lowered my body, bam!

The door was turned into a beehive by a shotgun blast, creating a hole in the middle.

Looking at the bedroom door, a tall, mildly overweight man holding a shotgun retreated. There was a leg in the doorway.

I lowered my muzzle, aiming a meter from the ground.

Bam bam! Two consecutive shots.

The bullets pierced through the wall, and I heard a thump as an object hit the ground.

"Damn it. You bastard!"

"Fack!"

I lowered my body and leaped out, sliding across the floor to the window.

The place I was just at was punctured by a shotgun, the wooden boards blasted through, creating a huge cavity in the wall. Crawling on the floor, I dodged bullets.

Some might say this doesn’t look cool at all.

Take Jason Statham and The Rock, they’re so cool, with slick moves and strong, able to easily take down enemies.

I just want to say, shit! That’s the movies, the action is choreographed, and extremely stupid.

Do you think bullets can’t pierce through doors and car doors?

I crawled quickly across the floor.

Bam!

Another shot, the big man in the bedroom shot through the door, the bullet making a big hole in my sofa, the back of the sofa riddled with tiny bullet holes.

The steel pellets in the shotgun turned the sofa into a real beehive.

Lying on the floor, I raised my arm, aiming at the man’s thigh.

Bam bam!

Two quick shots, the bullets danced through the air, hitting the target with a whistling airflow.

Tearing through the skin, muscles, with blood spraying from the wound.

"Ahhh, damn it!" The man kneeled on the ground, raising his weapon.

In his view, the young man’s face on the ground broke into a smile.

"Fack!"

Bam!

I pulled the trigger, the bullet piercing his scapula, shattering the bone.

The shotgun fell to the floor.

Just as the man was about to pull out the pistol behind him, a voice appeared in his ear.

"NO, if I were you, I wouldn’t do anything so stupid."

I walked to the bedroom door, pushed open the shattered door, and looked at the man kneeling in front of me.

The bird’s beak knife in my left hand plunged into his other shoulder, the shoulder muscles were torn, blood sprayed out, staining the floor.

"Ahhhh, Fack!" The man’s arms drooped, completely losing his ability to attack.