I'm building Gundams in America

"Bang!"

"Da da da..."

Bullets sent debris flying from the wall.

In Manchester, a group of elite members of a Russian gang were pinned down in a room in an apartment building, occasionally firing shots into the hallway outside.

Gun barrels were also seen peeking out from the doorway and firing into the room from time to time.

Shouts in Spanish could be heard coming from outside; it was Mexican mafia members gathering here.

An, shielded by a group of bodyguards in a corner of the room, began to curse loudly:

"Yoptvayumatti (Fuck your mother in Russian)!"

"What the hell are these Mexican bastards doing?!"

Today, he was having dinner at a Russian restaurant downstairs with his men when, just as the borscht was served, several Mexicans suddenly ran out of the kitchen and pounced on him with kitchen knives.

Several trusted subordinates immediately opened fire, killing the man.

Immediately afterwards, several motorcycles appeared on the street outside, and the Mexicans sitting on the back opened fire on the interior of the Russian restaurant, clearly intending to kill him.

Fortunately, many of his men were recruited from the Wagner mercenary group, and their reaction was faster than that of the regular army. They were all wearing bulletproof vests and immediately protected him while launching a counterattack.

Two Mexican gunmen were killed, and the rest quickly escaped on motorcycles.

Two of An's elite guards were also killed, which saddened him.

At this point, he instantly realized that someone was trying to frame him.

He immediately suspected Wayne and Sophia, and prepared to leave the restaurant and return to his Russian gang's headquarters.

But just as he was about to leave, another burst of bullets came flying in.

Five or six groups of people appeared on the street, each with two or three to seven or eight members, all of them Latino gang members, and they rushed toward the restaurant where they were, armed with weapons.

Several bodyguards immediately protected him as he fought his way back, retreating through the back door to the apartment on the second floor.

The gunmen, on the other hand, charged at him relentlessly, as if they didn't care about their lives.

What exactly is going on?

Judging from the size of the enemy, it was definitely a gang-related vendetta.

Ann felt completely bewildered; he couldn't recall ever having been to Mexico before.

He quickly pulled out his phone, dialed the number of his trusted confidant at headquarters, and loudly proclaimed:

"Suka! Ivan, I'm upstairs in the Kremlin restaurant, and those damn Mexicans suddenly attacked me! Send a special task force immediately! I'll teach those wet-backed bastards a lesson: Russian dignity is not to be trifled with!"

Suddenly, an explosion came from the phone, followed by gunshots.

Then Ivan said angrily:

"Boss, our hotel has been attacked by the Mexican Mafia! They bombed our lobby, and Vladimir was killed!"

"We caught a bastard who said the Mexican Mafia is waging all-out war against us, and that you ordered the killing of several of their fucking commissioners..."

"Their bounty on you is $1000 million, so those bastards are acting like they've gone mad..."

Upon hearing this, An Xin's heart tightened, and she subconsciously said:

"Briadi (damn it)... How did these bastards know that!?"

In previous years, he did indeed double-cross and kill several Mexican Mafia members because of some business dealings.

He kept these matters a secret, and apart from the already deceased Nikolai, no one else knew about them. Several of his subordinates who were involved in the matter were also silenced by him.

address:\\\\\\\\\\\\.\\\\\\

How the hell did the Mexican mafia know?

Ivan sighed on the other end of the phone and said:

"Boss, perhaps you made a bit too much of a fuss when you took down those Mexican Mafia committee members today?"

"Don't worry, boss, I've stabilized the situation at headquarters. Those damn Mexicans have retreated, but a lot of police have arrived, so I think it might cause some delays... I'll have Alexander go and meet you up now."

"The police are coming in."

As they were talking, Ivan had already hung up the phone.

An was taken aback.

today?

Why would he assassinate a Mexican Mafia member today?

In an instant, he vaguely realized something, and subconsciously felt like prey that had fallen into a trap, and the hairs on his head stood on end.

But before he could have a chance to think much, the window behind him was shattered with a "crash" by a string of bullets fired from the building opposite.

The enemy has infiltrated the building across the street!

"Sukabr!" Gregory roared, picked up his automatic rifle, stood up abruptly, and opened fire on the building from which bullets were coming.

"Boss, let's go! It's not safe here!"

An quickly got up, bent over, and rushed out through the side door under the protection of several bodyguards.

"Bang! Bang!" A gunshot rang out, and a Mexican gunman was found hiding in the doorway.

An's bodyguard and the gunman exchanged fire, and both fell to the ground at the same time.

Just then, the sound of sirens blared in the distance; the Los Angeles Police Department, which was always short-handed, was finally approaching.

More than ten minutes have passed since the gunfight began, and several people have died.

According to American police practice, when faced with gunfights involving gangs, they usually don't rush in immediately, but rather observe from the sidelines first.

The police will only intervene when the fighting between the two sides has subsided and the danger has decreased.

After all, gang fights are different from other situations; they're a way to clean up the "garbage population."

The more deaths on both sides, the better for the police.

Of course, because there is also public oversight, it is also unacceptable for the police to be too slow in responding.

Ten minutes is just right.

There are enough different gangs to handle their own affairs.

Another tacit understanding between gangs and the police is that when sirens sound, gang members must leave as quickly as possible.

To avoid awkwardness and an uncomfortable atmosphere when everyone is face-to-face.

Seeing that they couldn't take down An anytime soon, police sirens blared, and the Mexican mafia gunmen quickly retreated.

"Boss, it's safe outside now, shall we go back to the hotel?" Gregory asked quickly.

"No, we're going to the safe house on Baker Street... through the back door."

If those lowly lunatics from the Mexican Mafia really did put a $1000 million bounty on his head, then the Russian gang's hideout must now have not only police, but also gunmen lurking in the shadows.

It is actually the most unsafe place.

His guards were almost out of ammunition and urgently needed to be replenished.

His priority should have been to ensure his safety at the safe house first, and then find out what was going on. Even if he wanted to negotiate with the Mexican Mafia, it had to be in a safe, clandestine place...

"Let's go, let's go, get out through the stairs!" Ann gave the order, and Gregory took the lead. The group ran all the way to the back door of the apartment building, jumped into a car, and drove away quickly.

After they left, sirens blared downstairs at the apartment building, and seven or eight police cars appeared, shouting at the building's occupants.

"Los Angeles Police Department!"

……

"Oh, Mr. Wayne, thank you for your generosity... This money is very important to me..."

Inside Wayne's tent, a policewoman named Marshall accepted $2000 in cash, her face beaming with barely suppressed joy.

These ordinary police officers are nothing like Chief Cyril.

As an ordinary grassroots police officer, I only earn a few thousand yuan a month. After deducting various taxes, fees, loans, and other necessary expenses, there is hardly anything left, which can be described as barely making ends meet.

You can't save any money at all.

This is especially true for queer people like Marshall.

She also needs to maintain a certain level of outward appearance, as well as appropriate clothing for social occasions on holidays, etc., to maintain her own social circle.

This made her very tired.

Sometimes they even have to sell their blood to pay rent or other expenses.

The $2000 in cash that Wayne gave her, which was tax-free, was like a timely rain, and she was deeply moved.

Not to mention that the other party didn't need her to do anything illegal at all.

It was simply a matter of having the police officers in their shift diligently perform their duties in the patrol area of ​​the poor neighborhood on a regular basis. The Saints even cooperated with them to suppress violent crime in the area and to clear out drug dealers, etc.

She had also searched online for information about Mr. Wayne and asked A about him, and learned that he was a true street saint, a religious figure, and a philanthropist.

What else is there to say?

She did not violate her conscience at all, and what she received was not a bribe, but a sponsorship from a philanthropist, who was simply her benefactor.

After all, who hasn't seen "Golden Childhood"? Bang Jack is definitely a good guy!

Similar to Marshall's thoughts, the other police officers present also thought the same way.

They did nothing illegal or unethical; they were simply accepting the patronage of this saint.

Marshall held the two thousand dollars in his rough hands, and said somewhat embarrassedly:

"Oh, Saint, I have heard your legend. Thank you for your generosity, but I don't know if I may make another request..."

"As a transgender person, I identified as female this winter, so I took a lot of hormone medication, which made me very uncomfortable... I want to ask you to bless me."

As he spoke, Marshall tossed his long hair and then scratched his stubble with some embarrassment.