Chapter 13: The First Time I Fired My Gun as a Police Officer

“We’re not out on patrol today. Instead, we’re assisting the municipal government and sanitation department in an operation: clearing away the homeless who have occupied the streets around Homeless Park for too long.”

Ao Xi’s feelings were complicated; just a few days ago, he himself had been among the homeless.

“Don’t be like that, Ao Xi. You’ve started a new life. We’re only doing our jobs, and driving them away isn’t permanent—it’s for their own good as well.”

Mark considered his words carefully: “You know, the homeless usually don’t pay much attention to environmental hygiene. There’s garbage everywhere. If we ask them to leave temporarily, sanitation workers can clean up, and when they return, they’ll have a fresh living environment.”

Ao Xi thought of how he used to toss trash carelessly and how others relieved themselves wherever they pleased. It was indeed filthy and chaotic. “I hope so.”

“Of course. We have nothing against the homeless, as long as they don’t break the law.”

Clearing out the homeless did give a chance to clean the environment, but for the homeless, the downside was that their stable situation was broken. They would have to temporarily find new places to sleep and new locations to seek aid.

The scope of the municipal sweep was unknown, so they might have to walk far before settling down again. And by then, their old spots might be occupied; either they’d have to keep moving or compete for space, which meant danger.

The police car sped along and soon arrived at Rosemead—a place Chinese tourists love to visit, famed for its excellent Cantonese cuisine and seafood.

It might feel odd to eat Cantonese food in America, but people didn’t mind. Plus, clothes, shoes, and bags were much cheaper than back home, so many bought in bulk. Rumor had it that some wealthy women spent thirty thousand dollars in a single day.

Truly rich.

So the Rosemead city government was quite attentive to city management. After all, if the streets were full of homeless, garbage, and waste, it would hurt business.

Ao Xi felt much better, as long as it wasn’t Monterey Park. If he had to personally drive out Old Black James, he couldn’t bear it. The homeless in Rosemead were strangers to him, so it didn’t matter.

There were quite a few government workers involved this time, and seven or eight police officers as well.

“We’re only responsible for security and preventing incidents. The rest is up to the municipal employees. Don’t get involved,” Mark said.

Ao Xi nodded. Less work suited him just fine.

The police, all wearing sunglasses and looking cool, followed the government workers at a comfortable distance, watching as they called out to people inside the tents. If there was a response, a written notice was handed inside; if not, it was taped to the tent.

Usually, after a notice was posted, someone would come to clear the area the next day. By then, the homeless should have moved, otherwise their tents would be thrown out along with everything else—a major loss.

You’d never know unless you walked the streets yourself—there were so many homeless people, tents everywhere in parks and along roads.

It had to be said, even homeless people in America had a decent standard of living; at least they all had tents, and camping tents cost several hundred back home.

“Even when clearing the homeless, you have to be careful. Many have histories of drug use or mental illness, and poor hygiene means they carry many diseases. They might suddenly lash out, and with America’s abundance of firearms, some homeless even have guns,” Mark explained to Ao Xi, carefully avoiding the filth underfoot.

Are you hinting at me? My first gun was picked from a trash bin.

Ao Xi was about to reply when suddenly a female voice called out nearby, “Excuse me, are you Chinese?”

He turned to see two young women in their twenties, lively and beautiful, gazing at him hopefully.

“I speak Chinese, no need to use English. What can I do for you?” Ao Xi replied, feeling a bit odd, though he couldn’t pinpoint why.

The girls hugged each other excitedly, cheering, “He really is Chinese! I knew I wasn’t mistaken!”

“This is great, fantastic.”

Ao Xi scratched his head; you two don’t have to be this happy, as if you’ve discovered a new world.

After a while, they realized their excitement was inappropriate, straightened their hair, and apologized, “We’re here as tourists. We thought you might be a Chinese police officer and felt especially close, and you’re so handsome! Can we take a photo with you?”

Ao Xi glanced at Mark beside him.

Mark shrugged, “Go ahead and chat, I’ll check things up front.”

That settled it. Ao Xi took a photo with the two girls.

They chattered away, asking why he became a police officer, if being a cop was fun, and so on.

Of course, it’s for love and justice.

Otherwise, if he said it was just to make a living, how could he ask for their phone numbers?

The three laughed and joked, about to exchange contact information, when Ao Xi noticed Mark and the others running ahead.

Something had happened?

“I have to get to work now. Hope you enjoy your stay in Los Angeles.”

Ao Xi left them and hurried over—women or work, work always won.

Getting closer, he saw a Black homeless man fighting another whose ethnicity was unclear. The big Black man was pinning the other down and beating him.

Mark and the others rushed in to separate them. Fighting in front of so many police officers was a blatant show of disrespect.

A middle-aged white officer pulled out his notebook and asked the Black man for identification, intending to record his information.

This infuriated the Black man, who gestured wildly, acting as if he were the victim. But the homeless man he’d beaten was lying on the ground, face covered in blood.

Seeing the officers unmoved, the Black man suddenly knocked the notebook from the white officer’s hand.

Strictly speaking, knocking a police officer’s notebook away was already considered assaulting an officer. The white officer didn’t let it slide; he drew his baton—the kind shaped like a cane—and swung it at the Black man.

The Black man took the hit, then swung his arm to block, astonishingly knocking the baton away. The white officer was stunned.

While the officer hesitated, the Black man didn’t. He grabbed the officer and began struggling, the two of them tumbling to the ground, rolling about like children fighting.

This unexpected development left everyone momentarily frozen. Then, the others rushed forward to separate them.

But suddenly, the white officer on the ground shouted, “Gun! He took my gun! He took my gun!”

Everyone immediately stopped, scattering to find cover.

Ao Xi, hurrying over, saw the Black man rolling on the ground, the mark of evil above his head turning red. He drew his pistol and aimed at the two men on the ground. “Los Angeles County Police! Drop the gun! Drop the gun!”

Mark and the others reacted quickly, guns drawn and pointed at the Black man.

“Show me your hands!”

“Get your hands out! Did you hear me? Get your hands out!”

“Damn it, what are you doing? Don’t touch it!”

“Ah! You’re hurting me!”

Ao Xi glanced over; a woman watching the commotion was trying to pick up the fallen baton and was tackled by a police officer, cuffed on the spot.

The scene was chaotic, everyone shouting and dizzy with adrenaline.

Suddenly, the two men on the ground began to separate. Ao Xi, who had been watching closely, saw his chance. He squeezed the trigger—five shots in succession.

One man on the ground stopped moving instantly; the other officers rushed in to separate them.

The homeless man died on the spot; the middle-aged white officer, though covered in blood and mud, was unharmed.

Mark approached slowly, hand outstretched. “Ao Xi, it’s me, Mark. Ao Xi, relax. It’s over. It’s over.”

Ao Xi looked at him—what’s wrong with this guy? Of course I know who you are.

He thought for a moment and realized Mark’s intentions.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.”

He removed the magazine, pulled back the slide to eject the chambered round, reversed the gun and handed it to Mark, then unfastened his tactical belt and passed it over.

According to police regulations, whenever an officer-involved shooting occurs, the involved officer must surrender their weapon immediately after the incident, awaiting internal review.

Mark took everything with a sigh of relief. Someone who’s just fired their weapon is usually tense and sensitive; he genuinely feared Ao Xi might do something irrational. The nerves of everyone present were taut—if someone panicked and shot Ao Xi, it would be a disaster.

Killing a homeless man in broad daylight was newsworthy enough; if police officers started shooting each other, it would make headlines nationwide.

The other officers relaxed as well, holstering their guns and getting to work—filing reports, setting up a cordon, and checking if the Black man was truly dead.

He was indeed dead; Ao Xi heard the system notification: [Reward: $100; illegal Glock 19 converted to system item, can be stored in inventory.]

Ao Xi felt a surge of satisfaction as his Glock, hidden in the XT4, entered his inventory. While there was no skill reward, this was still a good prize. Sometimes he really worried someone would search his car.

Now, he had nothing to fear. He could ambush anyone, anytime, anywhere.

With so many witnesses, everyone knew exactly what had happened. Ao Xi was a police officer, so no one cuffed him.

He stayed put, watching the others work.

Suddenly, he remembered something and looked back—the two young women had vanished, nowhere to be seen.

He hadn’t gotten their contact information. A pity.