North American riot police: Start by arresting P. Diddy!

Chapter 194 Sinning! The End Island Prison! (Two chapters combined, please vote with monthly tickets)

There is a highly controversial course within the FBI called "The Law Enforcer's Dilemma".

The main story revolves around the question of whether law enforcement officers, when faced with a major crisis, should choose to be a lone hero venturing into dangerous territory or immediately notify other law enforcement agencies for coordinated action.

The speaker was Jack Bauer, who is now the head of the Counterterrorism Bureau, but at the time he was the deputy director of the FBI.

Old Griffin once sat in on an FBI meeting during a business trip.

That was over a decade ago. Griffin had forgotten most of what was taught in the class, but near the end, Jack said something that he still remembers vividly:

"In dark times, justice is more important than procedure!"

More than a decade later, when he heard the news that Eileen had been kidnapped and trafficked, old Griffin finally understood the weight of those words.

He chose to go it alone!

Because some justice cannot wait for bureaucratic procedures!

As a veteran who had personally participated in Operation Desert Eagle and served as a police officer for many years, Griffin did not hesitate at all after making up his mind. He immediately contacted an old friend and asked him to help him get a plane that could fly to Florida as quickly as possible.

Then, he took one last look at the apartment he had lived in for only a month, and slammed the door shut.

Half an hour later.

Inside a gun shop.

"Sir, I must inform you in advance that even if you apply for a gun license in this state, you will need to wait seven days before you can purchase a gun, and then you can only purchase one weapon within the 30-day window. Of course, I can reserve the gun you need in advance, and you can pick it up after the window period."

"Are there so many rules now when buying a few guns?"

"Yep, there are more rules than the current NBA rules."

“However, I recall that according to regulations, you can rent these guns to a friend first. As you know, this is one of the conditions for a legal temporary transfer in New York State. So, nice to meet you, friend, I'm Pete Griffin.”

"I'm Lauren Belgian, and it's an honor to meet you. But I think you should also know that the legal temporary transfer of firearms to friends and family only applies to sports, so I'm guessing you're going to participate in a shooting or hunting competition?"

"Both."

"Then I must remind you that the law stipulates that rented firearms must be returned within eight hours."

"Of course, but strictly speaking, every moment is actually within an eight-hour period."

"OK, but I'm sure you also know the last point: a rented or transferred firearm can only be used when its legal owner, namely me, is present and under my supervision."

"In that case, Brother Lauren, how about you stand with me in spirit?"

As soon as he finished speaking, two thick stacks of hundred-yuan bills, bound together with rubber bands, were thrown onto the counter.

"Well, if God thinks it's appropriate, then I think it's fine too."

Soon, the gun shop doors opened from the inside. Old Griffin, dressed in a black leather jacket and wearing sunglasses, came out carrying a heavy gun sack.

He raised his wrist to check the time, and the Casio F91W displayed the time precisely on the small screen.

One minute left
The next second, a classic old-style Hummer sped up from the street corner and came to a smooth stop in front of him.

Griffin picked up his gun bag, opened the car door without a word, and sat in the passenger seat.

"The plane will take off in half an hour. Don't worry about safety. It's a flying club run by an old buddy from the Middle East battlefield who retired," the man in the pilot's seat said in a deep voice.

He was about the same age as old Griffin, but unlike the overweight old Griffin, this man was still robust, with a sharply defined face behind his sunglasses.

Although his gray hair betrayed his age, he still exuded an aura of quiet authority.

Seeing Griffin remain silent, the man glanced at the heavy gun pouch on his lap, hesitated for a moment, and then said, "Are you sure you can handle this by yourself? If you need help, just say so. Don't fucking try to tough it out, old man."

Old Griffin smiled and said, "No need, Barney, I want to go solo."

"Damn it, you've been cautious your whole life, but you've suddenly become quite assertive after retirement."

Barney Ross shook his head helplessly but didn't try to persuade him any further.

He knew his old comrade-in-arms too well.

This seemingly gentle and harmless old man was someone who dared to openly disobey his commander's orders on the Iraqi battlefield back then.

"If you don't come back, I'll avenge you in the most old-fashioned way we used to do, you know that."

"Come on, that 'blood for blood' mentality doesn't exist anymore." Griffin lit two cigars and tossed one to Barney.

This time, instead of simply letting the smoke swirl in his mouth as usual, he inhaled it deeply into his lungs.

The man beside him was his old comrade-in-arms from the Middle East battlefields, but after retiring, he chose the path of a policeman, while the other took a completely different route—

mercenary!
Moreover, they were mercenaries who did the dirty work for the CIA.

They take on one or two government contracts each year, then go to Africa or the Middle East under the guise of "liberating freedom" to kill a group of complete strangers.

Griffin neither liked nor disliked his old friend, but the two did have a life-or-death bond.

That's why he immediately thought of contacting the other party.

Time slowly passed in the smoke of the cigar.

Not long after, the Hummer stopped at a remote and desolate farm.

Ahead, a small civilian transport plane is waiting for Griffin.

Are you sure you can really do this job?

Just before getting off the bus, Barney asked one more question, still unwilling to give up.

Old Griffin glared at him unhappily: "They're just a bunch of human trafficking gang scum. I've fought my way through the Kuwaiti battlefield, and I've also brought the Chicago mob to their knees. You think I can't handle them?"

"Whatever. If you die, I'll avenge you. Sigh, old friends are becoming fewer and fewer."

"Don't worry, if I really fall, a young man will avenge me. It's not your old guys' place to interfere."

After saying that, he waved his hand without turning his head, picked up his bag, and walked towards the waiting plane.

Barney, sitting in the car, gazed at the slightly overweight yet still upright figure, and finally couldn't help but smile and shake his head.

"Shit, he was in logistics when he was in the army, and he was in the commercial crime division when he was a policeman, so how come he's acting like a top soldier charging into battle?"

Although Griffin never fought on the front lines of a battle, whether as a soldier or a policeman, his years of experience gave him enough confidence.

Shortly after arriving in Florida, he used clues he had obtained during a casual conversation with Erin, as well as the characteristics of gang members that Erin revealed in her panic during their last phone call, to pinpoint the local gang that specialized in human trafficking.

Instead of recklessly storming into the gang's hideout alone, he patiently lay in ambush for a whole day and eventually succeeded in kidnapping a lone gunman.

Originally, he only wanted to find out the location of the gang's stronghold, but under interrogation with bullets and blood, he unexpectedly obtained a different piece of information.

According to this gang member, they would sell the goods they obtained to a mysterious company in Florida.

Once, out of curiosity, he secretly followed them and saw that the company's people delivered all their goods to the vicinity of the Virgin Islands, but he didn't know anything else.

After obtaining the intelligence, Griffin shot the scumbag dead, then took out a map to analyze the location of the Virgin Islands.

Finally, he disguised himself as a tourist, rented a speedboat, and scouted the archipelago for a day and a night before finally pinpointing his target island—Little St. James Island!
Let's go back to this moment.

Under the cover of night, squads of fully armed mercenaries were on guard around the island.

They were all elites hired by the island owner, Mr. Stan, at great expense. Each of them had several lives on their hands and were strictly disciplined.

Hundreds of drones are patrolling the skies above the island in an orderly manner, with night vision cameras closely monitoring the sea surface. Any abnormalities will be transmitted back to the island immediately.

Suddenly, all the guards received an alarm.

A drone captured footage of a speedboat hurtling towards the island at high speed!
As soon as the alarm sounded, the guards on the beach saw a white speedboat cutting through the waves in the distance under the night sky!

They had issued a warning in advance, but the people on the boat did not respond for a long time. As the speedboat drew closer to the island, the staff on the island received orders from their superiors:

"Destroy it!"

A mercenary immediately picked up a rocket launcher and aimed it at the speedboat. With a "whoosh," the rocket accurately hit the speedboat from hundreds of meters away, and a towering column of water exploded on the sea!

Immediately afterwards, teams of people quickly moved out and surrounded the location of the explosion.

Just then, a fat old man dressed like the Terminator quietly surfaced from the other side of the water, quickly climbed onto the shallows, and nimbly disappeared into the woods.

At this moment, old Griffin had already noticed something was wrong.

Even if this is the headquarters of a human trafficking ring, would it be necessary to deploy so many mercenaries on the periphery?
Not to mention the swarms of drones hovering overhead, and the armored vehicles and armed helicopters he glimpsed when he first landed.
"Fuck? Is this what human traffickers are supposed to have?"

Old Griffin frowned, vaguely sensing that he might have stumbled upon some earth-shattering secret.

Could this be some kind of human experimentation base for the military?
Although he was full of questions, he had no time to think about them at the moment.

His goal was clear: to rescue the little girl, Eileen.

But now he faced several major problems: he didn't know where he was being held, and he encountered patrolling soldiers almost every few steps. What was even stranger was that some of these soldiers were wearing military uniforms, while others were wearing suits, making them look like secret agents.

Not far in front of him, several guards were patrolling casually.

The moment the moonlight was swallowed by the dark clouds, old Griffin moved.

The first guard had just reached for the walkie-talkie at his waist when a burst of blood exploded on the back of his head!
The muffled thud of the silenced pistol was drowned out by the sound of the waves, and the body fell into the tide with a thud.

The sentry, who was three meters away, noticed something was wrong and turned around, only to have his Adam's apple suddenly grabbed by an old hand!
"Click——"

The sound of a broken cervical vertebra is like the sound of a celery stalk breaking.

Griffin gently laid the body down and casually removed the other person's thermal imaging goggles.

On the screen, the second firing point is hidden in the sand dunes behind the palm trees.

Old Griffin slid out from the shadows of the reef, plunging his dagger into the sentry's kidney while simultaneously covering the man's mouth and nose with his right hand.

"Shh."

Griffin lay beside his head, his once kind face now contorted with rage.

In the distance, two other guards were chatting idly at the edge of the bushes when suddenly a series of hurried footsteps sounded from behind them!
Before the two could turn around, a bullet had already pierced the eardrum of the man in front from behind!

The instant the other man raised his gun, the submachine gun hanging on Griffin's chest suddenly rose up, and the butt of the gun smashed his Adam's apple!
In a short while, four or five fresh corpses appeared on the ground.

"Huff, huff." Old Griffin was breathing heavily, looking tired. Although his marksmanship and skills hadn't deteriorated much, his physical strength was nowhere near what it used to be.

He only swam a thousand meters, and then killed a few more people after getting ashore.

But now his legs are trembling and he is panting heavily from exhaustion.

"Shit! If I'd known this would happen after I retired, I should have eaten fewer donuts!"

He chewed the gum he had taken from the corpse, and without pausing, forced himself to move forward again.

What Griffin didn't notice was that at the top of a nearby coconut tree, cameras disguised as coconuts were flashing red light.

five minutes later.

"Bang bang bang—!"

A burst of gunfire suddenly erupted, accompanied by the sound of grenades exploding.

Old Griffin's gun barrel was getting hot.

He leaned against a section of the collapsed concrete wall, his chest heaving violently, sweat rolling down his graying temples and leaving dark craters in the sand.

At this moment, the gunshot wound on his right arm was still bleeding, staining the rolled-up cuffs of his shirt red.

Twelve.

Twelve corpses lay scattered along the road leading to the center of the island.

Some had black holes between their eyebrows, others had their throats torn apart by bullets—all were killed cleanly and decisively with a single shot.

But it's not enough.

The roar of diesel engines came from afar, and two armored vehicles with steel plates were approaching him, crushing the wreckage of palm trees.

The blinding beam of the searchlight swept across the sand, instantly locking onto his location.

The bullets struck the concrete wall, sparks flying, and gravel splattered into his collar.

"Hold!"

Griffin spat out a mouthful of blood.

He should have thought of it earlier!

Those defensive lines with deliberately left gaps, those seemingly accidental shift changes.

This island is a well-designed trap, and right now someone in the monitoring room is surely enjoying his foolish act of walking right into it.

The most ironic thing is that he didn't even know which building Eileen was being held in!

The armored vehicle's turret suddenly spun, and Griffin lunged toward the crater three meters away. The concrete wall where he had been hiding was blasted into countless fragments by the anti-tank rockets.

"Ahhh!!! Fuck!"

A flying piece of gravel slammed into his leg, and he, who had already run out of bullets, was now completely unable to move!

"Well~Well~Well~"

A mocking voice came from afar.

When he saw who it was, old Griffin's pupils suddenly contracted.

If his memory serves him correctly, the man opposite him should be the Florida State Police Commissioner!
"Long time no see, Griffin." The man looked down at him and shook his head helplessly. "I heard you retired. Can't you just enjoy your retirement? Why are you so curious?"

"Fake Squid!"

Old Griffin roared, "So it was you! You're the protector of this human trafficking ring! You damned beast, you don't deserve to wear this police uniform!"

"Don't get agitated, old buddy." The police inspector looked at his former colleague with pity and said softly, "The background of this island is far beyond your imagination. You've trespassed into a place you shouldn't have been. However, given your special status, you're not without a chance to survive."

"Opportunity?" Old Griffin looked at him, puzzled, not understanding what the guy meant.

The next second, a tablet computer was thrown in front of him.

The moment he saw the screen, old Griffin felt his blood freeze—it was a photograph of a body cut into pieces, like an anatomical specimen, and the victim looked to be about the same age as Eileen.

His fingers trembled as he slid down the page, his arm shaking more violently with each photo he turned.

At that moment, he finally understood: these people trafficked people from all over the world, and after defiled them, harvested their organs for transplantation to dying wealthy and powerful individuals.

The victims who were too young had a substance extracted from their kidneys and injected into the bodies of elderly people who were nearing the end of their lives.
This island.
Griffin clenched his teeth, his eyes bloodshot, his anger erupting like a volcano.

The old man could no longer control himself when the familiar figure appeared in the next photo.

The Eileen in the picture had been dead for a long time, and her organs were preserved separately in a freezer, arranged neatly like goods on a supermarket shelf!

"Fake Squid!"

Old Griffin suddenly sprang to his feet, gripping the man's neck tightly, and roared with a ferocious expression, "The opportunity you're giving me is to harm innocents like you beasts?! Huh?! To collude with you filthy bastards?!"

“As a law enforcement officer, you should have more morality and a stronger sense of justice than ordinary people! You beast, you don’t deserve to wear the badge, much less this uniform!”

The Florida police superintendent was choked until his face turned purple, and he was forcibly pulled away by the guards who rushed up to him.

He was panting heavily, and roared hysterically, "Don't think too highly of yourself, Griffin! Do you know what kind of people are allowed on this island?! You're just a small-time city police chief, you don't even have the qualifications to know about this island! If it weren't for someone above saying so, do you think you'd still be alive!"

With that, he kicked Griffin hard on the head: "Want to be a hero, huh? Let me tell you, what this island has in abundance is the head of an idealist like you who doesn't know the immensity of the world!"

Seemingly enraged by Griffin's resistance, he kicked Griffin's head repeatedly, and blood quickly soaked the sand.

But at this moment, old Griffin showed no reaction to the pain.

He stared blankly at Eileen's shattered image on the tablet, his lips trembling as he murmured, "I don't want to be a hero. I'm a police officer. I need to do my duty. I need to stand up for myself."

The next second, Griffin suddenly pulled out the police gun that he had been hiding at his back waist and pulled the trigger!

The gun of kindness that had accompanied him for more than 20 years of police career finally fired its first bullet, and the first target was the state police commissioner—this heartless beast!

A bloody hole appeared instantly on the man's forehead, and he collapsed in a pool of blood, unable to believe his eyes.

The guards around immediately raised their guns and aimed!

However, just as Griffin had accepted his death, someone he never expected appeared.

"Don't kill him."

Secretary of State Joe, leaning on a cane, slowly emerged from the shadows.

The old man glanced at Griffin expressionlessly and said coldly, "Since you think you're so noble, I'd like to see if you can still maintain this sense of justice when you're disgraced and imprisoned with a bunch of crimes that aren't yours."

After saying that, Old Joe gave him one last contemptuous look: "If I remember correctly, that bastard Rorschach Butcher was trained by your police department. Like father, like son; the two of you are cut from the same cloth!"

Griffin was completely deaf to what the other person was saying. His eyes widened in shock, his expression almost collapsing—the Secretary of State was also on this island of sin?!

"Oh!"

The butt of the rifle slammed heavily into the back of his neck.

In his last moments before plunging into darkness, Griffin vaguely saw Eileen smiling at him from heaven.

----------

The next day.

An explosive news story began to spread wildly across major media outlets:
Former Midtown Chicago Police Chief Pete Griffin was convicted of murdering two Brazilian immigrant father and daughter and was sentenced to life imprisonment after trial. He was sent to Termination Island prison.
In New York, Ginny, who guards the ruins of the Statue of Liberty, is on the phone with her father in a hurried tone, but the only reply she receives is a helpless sigh.

Soon, this once-renowned and decorated director was escorted by several armored vehicles to a two-mile-long island prison far from the mainland.

Unlike ordinary prisons, none of the thousands of criminals held in this private prison are minor offenders—it only houses life-sentenced and death row inmates!

As Griffin was escorted through the prison gates by two guards, he raised his numb eyes and looked around.

Strangely, the central plaza of this prison has no exercise area; instead, there is only a circular building resembling a car racetrack standing in it.

"Death Race".

Old Griffin muttered to himself as if he had just realized something.

Given his status, he had naturally heard of the car race on Termination Island, which was composed of death row inmates, but he never expected that one day he would be imprisoned there himself.

In the warden's office.

Wearing a white suit and silver high heels, Warden Hennessy coldly glanced at Griffin on the surveillance screen. Her beautiful face was slender, and her red lips parted slightly as she said in a chilling voice, "Remember, this guy only has three days to live."

“Haha, don’t worry, ma’am,” one of his men replied confidently. “The prisoners all know this old man is a policeman. I bet he won’t even make it through tonight.”

"Bam—!"

The cell door slammed shut.

Griffin, dressed in an orange prison uniform, sat silently on the lower bunk.

He was the only prisoner in the cell for the time being, but the guards said that another prisoner would be brought in soon.

Griffin gripped the metal plate on the edge of the bed tightly.

If I'm not mistaken, the upcoming "roommate" must be an assassin sent by the Federation to kill me.

First, ruin his reputation, and then assassinate him in prison after he's completely disgraced?
Old Griffin took a deep breath and suddenly roared as if to bolster his courage: "I joined the army at nineteen, participated in Operation Desert Storm at twenty-five, and after retiring, I went to police academy and ranked first in the entire school for two consecutive years. Intelligence agencies invited me, and the FBI was scrambling to recruit me!"

"What's there to be afraid of in a mere prison?"

Just then, the cell door behind them opened again.

Griffin gritted his teeth, took a few deep breaths, and slowly turned his head.

He had made up his mind that even if he were to die in this damned prison, he would take a few bastards down with him.

However, upon seeing who it was, he was completely stunned.

"Don't look at me like that, newbie."

Wearing a prison uniform, Luo Xia grinned at him: "Also, don't think that just because you have some connection with me you can sleep on the top bunk. The top bunk is reserved for me!"

(End of this chapter)