Chapter 16: The Tough Guy Turns Out to Be Me? (Please Keep Reading)
Ao Xi emptied his magazine, not bothering to check the situation on the other side. He rolled away to a safer distance, discarding the spent magazine mid-roll. Once he steadied himself, he retrieved a full magazine from his pouch, loaded it into his gun, and with another roll, released the slide and chambered a round.
Only then did he have time to lift his head and observe the enemy’s position.
He discovered the man in black had long since collapsed to the ground, motionless.
[Host has eliminated the target. Reward: $150. Skill: Police Procedures +1 Level.]
Ao Xi slowly stood up, feeling sharp pain in two parts of his body. There was no time to inspect his wounds; he forced himself to endure the pain and walked over to kick the pistol away from the ground.
He glanced down at the man in black—he’d been riddled with bullets.
Ao Xi went to check on James. He reached out and felt his neck—there was no pulse.
“What the hell is all this?” Ao Xi muttered helplessly.
Soon after, a police cruiser sped to the scene, stopping at a distance. From afar, an officer shouted, “Drop the gun! Hands up!”
“Get down on the ground slowly! Let me see your hands!”
The newcomers were likely from the Temple Division, but Ao Xi was in no mood to explain. He simply tossed his gun aside, raised his hands, and slowly lay down.
“Slower! Take it slow!”
Footsteps approached. An officer came over and kicked the gun further away, while another cuffed Ao Xi.
“I’ve been shot. I need a doctor,” Ao Xi said.
“We’ll call you an ambulance—as long as you can pay the fare,” came the reply.
Ao Xi was taken aback. He really didn’t know if the health insurance he’d just bought a few days ago covered gunshot wounds. He’d heard that getting medical treatment in America could bankrupt a person, and he was a little frightened.
More and more police cars arrived. As Ao Xi saw the officers getting out, his eyes lit up. “Mark! Wally! It’s me, Ao Xi!”
Mark and Wally had been talking with the first responders about what had happened. When they heard someone shouting, they looked over and were dumbfounded to see the “suspect” was Ao Xi.
The two walked over and sized him up. “Brother, what did you do?! You just shot someone this morning, you know? And now you’re cuffed again tonight!”
Ao Xi rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t cuffed this morning.”
Wally waved his hand. “That’s not the point. Tell us—what happened?”
Ao Xi gave a brief account of the events.
Mark lifted Ao Xi’s shirt to check. “You took hits to the shoulder and chest. Luckily you were wearing a bulletproof vest—the bullets didn’t penetrate, so you’ll be fine after a few days’ rest.”
“If what you say is true, you acted in self-defense. You’ll be alright.”
Ao Xi nodded. “It’s just a shame about James. He’d just found a job and was about to start over. Now it’s all over.”
Wally looked around at the scene. “It’s not ideal, but I have to say, you shouldn’t have given James so much new stuff. That’s too conspicuous—it draws greedy eyes.”
Ao Xi lowered his head. “I didn’t think about that. I just wanted to bring some gifts for James.”
Mark patted Ao Xi’s shoulder. “This isn’t your fault, Ao Xi. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to help a friend. The problem is with those bad people.”
“Go get in the ambulance. Leave things here to us.”
Ao Xi was loaded into the ambulance by the medics and taken to the hospital. The doctor’s assessment matched Mark’s: the injuries weren’t severe, and he’d be able to leave after half a month of recovery.
Later, Ao Xi learned the man in black he’d killed was named Joseph Powell—no ordinary character. His car had been seen at the scenes of three homeless murders, and the gun he carried was linked to a home invasion and shooting.
After joint examination of the evidence and gunshot wounds by the medical examiner’s office and firearms experts, it was concluded that the three murdered homeless men and the fourth, James, had all been killed by Powell, and the pistol was identified as the murder weapon.
The victim of the home invasion also confirmed that Powell was the perpetrator.
In other words, by killing Powell, Ao Xi had effectively solved several cases.
Ao Xi didn’t care about that. He wasn’t a full-fledged officer, so this wouldn’t earn him a promotion or a raise. What mattered was that it wasn’t his generosity that had gotten James killed, and that was enough.
Because James’s ex-wife and daughter refused to claim his body, citing that they no longer had any relationship with him, Ao Xi, as a friend, had to arrange the cremation after his release from the hospital. He chose a scenic cemetery for James.
On James’s tombstone, he had this epitaph engraved: He made many mistakes, but found redemption at the end of his life. May he rest in peace.
Because Ao Xi had acted in defense and to stop a crime, he bore no responsibility.
The one to announce this decision was Captain Mesa, the head of the Temple Division—a white, middle-aged officer of unremarkable appearance, but with piercing eyes.
Chief Mesa didn’t say much; he just told Ao Xi to rest and recover, that his assigned patrol car was ready, and that he should hurry to apply for citizenship.
Ao Xi was puzzled and went to Mark to ask what the chief meant.
Mark gave him a helpless look. “So you think being a cop is all about shooting people every day?”
“Well, yeah, that’s what I thought.”
Mark looked defeated and started explaining: According to some North American civil organizations, in 2018, about 1,098 people were shot and killed by police, including those killed by firearms, tasers, beatings, or restraint.
Seventy percent of them were criminals or fit the criteria for deadly force; less than thirty percent might have been misjudged by police.
Depending on the figures, there are about 700,000 police officers in the country. With so many, only a little over a thousand deaths occur each year. American police are actually extremely cautious.
Most officers go their entire careers without ever firing their weapons, or without killing anyone. The goal is to apprehend criminals, not end lives.
But Ao Xi was exceptional—he had already killed two people himself, making up one five-hundredth of the nation’s annual total.
So, after his first shooting, the chief put him directly on the duty roster. That same afternoon, he fired his weapon again, which alarmed the chief, who even hinted that a full police position would be prepared for him—hence the reminder to apply for citizenship. Only citizens can become official police officers.
Wasn’t that a bit over the top? Ao Xi thought it was making a mountain out of a molehill.
Mark felt compelled to explain further. Police work is extremely tough. According to the FBI’s 2018 crime report, there were 58,866 assaults on police officers that year, resulting in 18,005 injuries and over 100 officers killed on duty.
Every shooting is followed by strict internal review to determine necessity and justification. Internal Affairs is known for scrutinizing colleagues for promotions.
And there are too many predatory lawyers in America, ones who specialize in exploiting official mistakes. If a case goes to court or is found unjustified, the department might have to pay millions in compensation.
Most American police officers are just there to earn a living. Quite a few who have drawn their weapons and killed in the line of duty need psychological counseling afterward, and some even resign or take their own lives.
Though a life was lost, so too was a normal life for the officer involved.
Ao Xi was stunned, even a bit in awe. Despite such a harsh environment, only a bit over a thousand people are killed by police each year. Restraint didn’t even begin to describe it.
He thought to himself, if he were in that environment, he’d probably have to kill several every day—no exaggeration.
Wait, isn’t that exactly the environment I’m in now? Is it too late to quit?
He started to understand. “So, you’re saying the chief wants me to handle the dirty work?”
Mark clapped his hands. “Exactly! Who wouldn’t want a couple of tough guys in their department? You’re Temple Division’s tough guy!”