I was acting crazy in North America, and all the crazy people there took it seriously.

Chapter 42 Just Enforcement, What the Heck is Heavy Firepower? (Please read on, please vote!)

Having learned from James's experience, Colonel William did not attempt to divide his forces this time.

He led a full 150 men, heavily armed, to Chicago by truck, where they immediately sealed off the Prohibition Department and arrested everyone inside.

After using some tricks to assist in the interrogation, he obtained more information.

As expected, every single one of them is a mole!
The reason James and his group suffered such a quick and devastating defeat was because they were betrayed by an insider. Chicago gangsters took advantage of their unpreparedness and killed them before they could even draw their pistols.

Colonel William both mourned James's fate and gained more confidence in the operation.

All evidence suggests that the Chicago gangsters were not so much outmatched in combat as they were cunning and ruthless.

This time, he intends to use overwhelming firepower to suppress the bandits and make them despair in the face of unparalleled firepower!

He opened a Chicago map, which showed a rough map of the locations of Chicago gang-run underground bars, based on information provided by the moles.

The densely packed dots show just how powerful the gang's influence is!
It is also clear that there is no hope left for the official forces in Chicago!

This lousy underground bar has practically infiltrated the city government's backyard. How can you say they were completely unaware of it?
"What a bunch of corrupt officials! What a bunch of shit city!"

Colonel William spat out a curse.

However, no matter how corrupt the official forces are, they are beyond his control; what he can eliminate are the dung beetles!

Colonel William measured the map with his hands.

He already knew that Chicago had two distinct criminal factions, one in the north and one in the south.

The moles also said that the two factions have been fighting for years and it's impossible for them to support each other—the moles always double-divide their money! Shit!
This is good, it makes it easier for him to defeat them one by one.

Colonel William slammed his fist on the map to the south.

An hour later, Colonel William personally led a team in a textbook-perfect raid on an underground bar in the South District that was said to be a major source of revenue for the Mafia.

The entire operation was swift and efficient, and several thugs guarding the area were shot dead – don't ask why, it was simply a case of violent resistance against law enforcement.

This time, there was no gimmick of inviting reporters to take photos, but William deliberately let all the patrons in the bar go.

Then, he grabbed a bottle of amber-colored whiskey and smashed it against the copper-clad edge of the counter!

The crisp cracking sound was like a signal.

The detectives immediately got to work, grabbing every bottle of liquor they found and smashing it against the brick wall and floor.

They overturned the entire wine rack and trampled the spilled wine with their boots.

In just a few minutes, this carefully hidden haven of joy was reduced to a complete mess. The floor was littered with glittering shards of glass and spilled liquor.

After thoroughly destroying the bar, Colonel William left a few men to guard the entrance, waiting for the police to arrive—if they were to come.

The main force regrouped and headed to the Mafia's next large underground bar.

"Drive slowly," Colonel William instructed the driver, while he leaned half his body out of the car window, his hawk-like eyes sweeping over the curious passersby on both sides of the street.

With a deep rumble of engines, the convoy moved forward at almost a walking pace. Agents, armed with gleaming M1903 rifles and M1911 pistols at their waists, stood impeccably in the back of the trucks.

This is not a raid, it's an armed march, it's a provocation!

Colonel William's lips curled into a cold smile.

He wanted to force those rats in the gutter to come out on their own, and then crush them into dust with overwhelming force!
If they don't show up, fine, he'll just keep raiding these underground bars one by one. He has enough patience to raid all the underground bars in Chicago.

But he hoped it would be the former.

Come on, do me!

Colonel William extended a sincere invitation in his mind to the Chicago gangsters!
As if responding to the call of his heart, the closer he got to his goal, the fewer pedestrians there were on the roadside.

Gradually, there wasn't a single pedestrian left.

Unidentified armed personnel could be vaguely seen around the convoy.

"They're here! Prepare for battle!" Colonel William was not surprised but delighted. He pushed open the car door and, using the door as cover, steadily raised his rifle.

"Occupy advantageous positions! Fire freely! Teach these social scum a lesson in blood!" he roared.

The convoy quickly dispersed, trucks parked sideways, and agents nimbly jumped out, seeking cover as bullets were chambered with crisp, clean sounds.

Their faces were filled with contempt as they prepared to teach the gangsters a bloody lesson.

Then, the lesson began—

At least forty Thompson submachine guns around the convoy roared simultaneously, their dense sounds tearing through the air, as if an invisible giant was repeatedly combing the street where the convoy was located with a heavy iron comb.

This isn't a bullet, it's a storm of scorching metal!

The Thompson submachine gun's signature rapid and deadly bursts of fire, like a typewriter, instantly became the dominant sound, interspersed with the Browning automatic rifle's heavy, powerful bursts, each shot like a pounding blow to the chest.

Colonel William and his well-trained agents were instantly stunned by the barrage of bullets.

"Retaliate! Suppress them!" Colonel William roared hoarsely, but his voice was pitifully weak amidst the dense gunfire.

Before he could come up with a way to effectively suppress them, he saw some small black dots flying over from the front of the convoy, falling in elegant parabolic arcs.

Boom! Boom! Explosions rang out one after another!
"Grenade!" someone screamed shrilly.

Boom! Boom!
Hand grenades fell from the sky in arcs as if they were free, one after another exploding, the shockwaves carrying shrapnel and gravel sweeping across the street.

The hood of a truck was ripped off, and flames shot into the sky.

"Retreat! Retreat!" Seeing the situation was dire, Colonel William personally covered the retreat of the agents.

However, he discovered to his despair that the firepower of the submachine guns and machine guns on the other side seemed endless, weaving a net of destruction that firmly covered their escape route.

Compared to their pitiful single-shot bursts from rifles and pistols, the enemy's continuous fire, coupled with a barrage of grenades, was an overwhelming display of heavy firepower!
With a soft "whoosh".

"boom!"

Colonel William was thrown back by the blast wave of the most recent grenade explosion, his back slamming against the twisted car door before he rolled to the ground.

His rifle had flown away, and his ears were filled with a sharp ringing. The world seemed to spin, and all sounds became distant and blurry.

He looked up at the sky, his vision filled with the gray skies of Chicago and countless faintly intersecting ballistic trajectories.

He really wanted to cry!

Man, it's just law enforcement, what's with this endless heavy firepower?!
And Chicago police, with a shootout escalating to this point in the streets, why aren't you here yet?!
……

　Man, where are you going to read this? Where are your monthly passes?
　　
　
(End of this chapter)