Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 191 is no longer an ordinary citizen.

California.

Eight in the morning.

Casares sat in the police car, his right hand pressed against his tactical vest, his collar soaked with sweat.

Sunlight reflected off the dome of the parliament building, forming a white line that fell right on the corner of my eye.

The square was so empty.

Only the overturned plastic bottles were blown by the wind and rolled over the garbage heap.

He instinctively knew he shouldn't go out today.

It wasn't entirely because of the internal briefing, but the smell.

There was a damp, burnt smell in the air, similar to the lingering smoke left after an old transformer burned down.

In the past, this kind of feeling always arose whenever a major event occurred.

At 8:37, the first group of people appeared.

It's not a large scale, only seven or eight.

They walked over quietly, without any slogans or banners.

Casares wasn't the first to see it.

It's Harold.

"They're here," his partner whispered.

He nodded, but didn't deliberately turn around to look—because he didn't want to be "the first policeman to be filmed live."

Casares heard the sound of his shoes scraping against the floor tiles.

One pair, one pair, three pairs. More and more.

more and more dense.

Something has completely changed.

It makes one's hair stand on end.

When I looked up again, the square had been occupied by about a hundred people.

Their clothing varied, and they did not form any specific formation.

But they have a great understanding.

The woman set up a tripod, took off her coat and spread it on the ground, and then took out white paper and a red pen from her backpack.

He couldn't see what was written on the paper; he only noticed her movements.

My hands are shaking, and my handwriting is unsteady.

Two banners fluttered in the distance from the skyscrapers.

The wind picks them up and then lets them go.

Casares has not yet realized what this means.

Ten minutes later, a strange whistle was heard.

Two short and one long.

Then came a continuous rhythm, which seemed to be some kind of signal, a call.

Then, more people appeared.

They poured in from the buildings and from the ends of the streets.

Casares recognized one of the familiar faces.

Pedro.

Every morning, they set up a stall by the parking lot, selling Mexican tacos and tortilla chips.

He tried to call out to him, but found that he had somehow lost his voice.

Suddenly, the headset was filled with noise.

Two seconds later, the dispatch center's announcement sounded:

—Attention all units, we are now entering Red-6 response level.

—Driving or enforcing the law is prohibited unless absolutely necessary.

—Avoid contact, refrain from provocation, maintain restraint, repeat, maintain restraint.

His back was pressed against the seat, and he felt a tightness in his chest.

It wasn't fear, but a feeling of impending loss of control.

Okay, that's fear.

The city is no longer under the jurisdiction of law enforcement agencies.

It belongs to them, not to them.

They are the ones who "did nothing" but were silently closing in.

At 8:59, a metal key was thrown into the air.

Casares witnessed it firsthand.

The key used for those old-fashioned dormitory padlocks.

It hit the ground, bounced up, and fell again.

Nobody picked it up.

Everyone was watching it, as if it were some kind of signal.

Then came a few shouts.

He didn't listen carefully, but he heard all the cell phone cameras around him suddenly raised and pointed at the roof of the parliament building.

Casares looked in that direction and realized that the national flag had disappeared from the pole.

Only the state flag remained hanging there all alone.

Casares instinctively reached for the radio at his waist.

Mute the wireless channel.

Silence is the answer.

—Stand still and ignore it.

But the city doesn't stand.

The city is in motion.

In an instant, the square seemed to explode as if something had suddenly detonated it.

First came roars from the street, followed by shouts, whistles, clapping, and yelling, all mixed together.

Casares suddenly turned his head.

A group of young people rushed across the police line.

They were running, waving their arms, and shouting:
"She cannot die in silence!"

"Let her speak!"

The old iron railings collapsed with a crash, the floor tiles trembling underfoot. Before Casares could react, he heard Harold roar from the passenger seat, "Move forward! Stop them—"

But nobody moved.

The police officers scattered around remained where they were, and none of them drew their guns.

They were all waiting for orders—but the orders never came.

The sweat on Casares' back dried in the wind and then started to reappear.

The sun rose higher, but there was no warmth whatsoever.

Nine o'clock.

The lane was completely blocked by water-filled barriers and roadblocks.

A large crowd thronged, cursing and venting their anger, seemingly directed at no one in particular, like waves crashing onto the mudflats, one after another, without end.

An old man stood shakily on the stone steps and raised a megaphone:
"She is a witness!"

"She stepped forward!"

"Now it's our turn!"

Then, he pointed in Casares' direction.

"Are you still going to side with them?!"

Ruined.

Casares' heart pounded, and all he could hear was a rapid buzzing in his ears.

He instinctively looked for his partner Harold, only to find the passenger seat empty.

The man left sometime later.

The communication headset was hanging on the back of the seat, and the bulletproof vest was not taken away either.

Casares acted decisively and locked the car doors.

The crowd outside drew ever closer, and anger, despair, and curses surged forth.

The windows were being banged on repeatedly.

"Get away! Don't come any closer! Don't force me to take action!"

He shouted at the top of his lungs, but no one listened.

The man still inside the police car became the focus, a moving target.

boom!
The first piece of glass shattered.

Shot!

Someone outside fired shots!

"Open the door! Come out! You've killed her!"

Which side are you going to stand on?

"Coward! Why don't you come out!"

Casares instinctively drew his pistol, his hand trembling.

"Don't fucking force me! I don't want to!"

He shakily raised his arm, trying to aim.

But there were so many angry faces that he didn't know where to shoot first.

boom!
Another shot.

Shards flew everywhere and hit his neck.

Casares screamed, closed his eyes, and pulled the trigger.

"boom--!"

The roar of an engine came from the street corner.

The obstacle was forcibly smashed open.

*******.

*******.

There was someone standing on the roof of the car.

The front of the garment features a gray ribbon with white lettering.

Click.

A soldier lifts the M203 launcher mounted under his M4 rifle.

Bang-!
The flashbang exploded on the floor tiles, releasing white light and smoke, accompanied by a low-frequency popping sound.

Next came the tear gas canisters.

Thick smoke billowed, and some people began to cough and back away, while others instinctively shouted and tried to break free of the encirclement.

"do not move!"

The loudspeaker echoed repeatedly amidst the noise.

"Evacuate!"

"Evacuate immediately, or it will be considered an attack!"

They were met with chaos.

A glass bottle flew out from a certain direction.

Next, there was a metal padlock, right in the center of the helmet of the front-row soldier.

The next second—

boom!
The rubber bullet flew out.

The man fell to his knees and cried out in pain.

Smoke, glare, roars, and cries mingled together.

Another projectile of unknown origin landed beneath the vehicle, instantly exploding into sparks.

The affected soldiers overreacted, suddenly lowering their gun barrels.

boom!
This time it's not a rubber bullet.

The woman fell to the ground with a thud, her back torn open by a bullet, blood seeping onto the floor tiles.

"Ceasefire! Ceasefire—"

The commander's order came a beat too late.

The broadcast will no longer repeat the warning.

Some began to flee, and some fell.

The camera shakily recorded this terrifying event.

The cloud-based live streaming platform saw a massive influx of online viewers.

And the city, amidst blood and light, finally went off track.

　It's been reviewed again.
　　
　
(End of this chapter)