Chapter 44: Taking It All (Please Keep Reading)

Body cameras are really inconvenient—you can’t even pull off a surprise attack. You have to announce yourself first, or it’ll count as a violation.

The gunman took a round and looked like a hot water bag full of holes, blood spurting everywhere. The sight was enough to shake anyone’s nerves. No wonder only the toughest in the military or SWAT dare to use shotguns as the vanguard in an assault.

The thunderous blast of the shotgun was unmistakable. Another gunman across the street turned at the sound. “Watch out! Armando’s been killed by a cop!”

Good eyes, thought Aoxi, raising his weapon and firing. The gunman was quick, ducking behind a corner just in time, splinters from the wall flying everywhere.

The Remington M870 police shotgun’s effective range was forty meters, but even beyond that, it could still do some damage. The spread got too wide, though, risking collateral hits—and even if it struck, it might not be lethal.

If the gunman had been slower, he’d have a few more holes in him.

Aoxi reloaded with a sharp snap, then darted across the open space between two buildings, pressing his back against the wall to catch his breath before circling around to the rear.

He instinctively moved in silence, a strange sensation rising within him. He found he could control his posture and muscle strength so that his steps made almost no sound, without hindering his movement.

Even without looking down, he could avoid stepping on branches or debris that would give him away, like a cat padding through the night. The thought flickered through his mind.

“F**k! I’m going to kill you!”

A man’s low curse came from around the corner, then silence.

Aoxi paused, realizing the gunman was lying in wait for him. Not hearing any footsteps, the man assumed he hadn’t arrived yet and let slip a curse. If he’d known Aoxi was already there, he’d have stayed silent.

Aoxi calculated the man’s position, aimed the shotgun at the spot, and fired through the wall.

With a deafening blast, a gaping hole appeared in the wooden wall. The gunman screamed and was thrown out.

Striding over, Aoxi didn’t bother checking if he was dead. He reloaded, fired another round into the man lying on the ground—just to be sure. Now he was dead.

“LASD! Who’s there? Don’t move!” came a warning from behind, echoed faintly from across the street.

“I’m a deputy with the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department, Temple Station—Aoxi! Two gunmen down here!” he shouted back.

“Understood.”

A few officers rushed over, weapons ready, and checked the bodies. “You’ve got good skills, man.”

Aoxi smiled. “Let’s hurry and back up the others across the street.”

“OK.”

They fanned out, weapons raised, using parked cars for cover as they advanced around the corner.

Aoxi peered out briefly. In the middle of the street, a car riddled with bullet holes blocked the way. A man lay motionless on the ground. Another, bleeding, was curled up beside the car door, clutching a gun. The sinister mark above his head was jet black.

He signaled to the others, indicating the gunman’s position.

They nodded, aiming at the car.

“LASD! Drop your weapon, crawl out slowly, then lie face down with your hands on your head! Do you understand?” Aoxi shouted.

With other officers present, he couldn’t just rush over and finish the guy off—had to go by the book. If the man refused or didn’t respond, then he’d have an excuse.

The man, not eager to die, quickly tossed his gun away, shouting, “I’ve dropped my gun! I’m crawling out—don’t shoot! I’m doing it now!”

Aoxi curled his lip. Another black mark wasted.

The man crawled out from behind the car and lay face down where they could see him.

As soon as he was down, Aoxi darted over, sliding to pin the man’s neck, shotgun pressed to his back. “Any more weapons on you? I said, do you have any more weapons?”

The man wailed in pain but didn’t dare move. Gritting his teeth, he shouted, “There’s a spare magazine on my belt, a knife in my pocket—nothing else! That’s it!”

While the other deputies kept guard, one came over, frisked him, tossed aside the knife and magazine, and cuffed him.

The man groaned, “I can’t breathe—I can’t breathe!”

Reluctantly, Aoxi got off him. Why did this guy take so long? Wasn’t asphyxiation supposed to be quick?

After a few gasping breaths, the man cried, “I’ve been shot! I need an ambulance—I need to go to the hospital!”

“You’ll be taken care of, but you have to wait until the fight’s over.”

There was still gunfire—no time for ambulances. He’d have to wait.

Aoxi grabbed his shotgun, eager to help on the other side.

One officer blocked his way. “I know you—you’re Aoxi the Barbarian. You’re impressive, but you can’t do everything yourself. Trust your partners—they need something to put on their résumés too.”

Suffocation or not, hearing that nickname always left him short of breath.

With no argument, Aoxi stepped back, taking cover behind a car, listening to the gunfire across the street as he thought through the case.

If it was the same number on both sides, there were four in total—two ambushed in the car.

Caught off guard, one died instantly; the other, though wounded, managed to return fire.

These four were truly incompetent—even with the advantage, they couldn’t take out the second man, leaving him alive until police and Aoxi arrived. Pathetic.

As he pondered, the gunfire dwindled and finally stopped. Soon, his colleagues emerged, escorting two men in custody.

The results: rapid response, three captured (including the one ambushed), two killed, and not a single officer injured.

It was a resounding victory. Every deputy wore a beaming smile, knowing their service records would have some fine achievements to note.

Only Aoxi felt unsatisfied—not able to take down another one or two. The system didn’t upgrade for just one more; he’d need to tally ten, and who knew when that would happen.

Though slightly frustrated, he still exchanged greetings and contact info with the other deputies, chatting warmly—after all, the more people who knew him, the less he’d have to keep yelling his identity every time.

Of course, that was partly his own fault. Aside from the gas station incident, this time he’d driven over without linking up with the others, just showing his face before heading off alone to scout. No wonder the other deputies were always so on edge.

No one ever announced someone was moving ahead—even in uniform, was he really one of them?

All Aoxi could do was promise, “Next time, for sure.”