You're a US police officer, what are you thinking about going back to the East for?

Perkins frowned, his gaze sweeping over the backs of Kevin, Mia, and Carlos's heads, his face filled with disbelief and incomprehension.

Finally, he couldn't help but speak up.

"Wait... I don't understand."

Perkins spread his hands, looking completely bewildered:

"What are you talking about? You're police officers, you're tech experts. Why are you talking like you're all going to become homeless at any moment?"

"As far as I know, the vast majority of homeless people are homeless because they are lazy, alcoholic, or have fallen into drug addiction, or they have serious mental defects."

"These are two different things."

"That victim was indeed horribly deceased; it was a crime, but what does that have to do with you?"

"This is illogical and contrary to the American spirit of struggle."

Perkins' tone was very sincere.

He genuinely doesn't understand.

As an elite who graduated from a prestigious university, was directly admitted to the Quantico FBI Academy, and had a smooth and successful career, his worldview is that poverty is the original sin and failure is incompetence.

His life story is completely unrelated to homelessness, and his understanding of homelessness comes entirely from media reports or word-of-mouth in the community.

He couldn't imagine how a white-collar worker or technician with a normal job could fall into the ranks of the homeless just because of a layoff or an illness.

The air fell silent instantly.

Jacob stopped picking his teeth, Kevin stared at him like he was an alien, and even Carlos in the front couldn't help but glance at him in the rearview mirror.

Leon turned his head and looked at the naive-looking federal agent.

He simply narrowed his eyes slightly, looking at Perkins with the gaze of an elder looking at a child.

His eyes held a mixture of mockery, pity, and a world-weary look that seemed to say, "You're still young, you'll understand later."

"Detective."

Lyon was too lazy to explain to him what structural poverty or healthcare bankruptcy was.

He simply patted Perkins on the shoulder and smiled:

"Your suit must be expensive, right? Wear it properly and don't get it dirty."

This seemingly random statement, coupled with Leon's meaningful look, was more damaging than cursing.

Perkins opened his mouth, but the whole set of theories about the American Dream and personal struggle that he had prepared instantly got stuck in his throat.

He suddenly felt a burning sensation on his face and felt uncomfortable all over.

Finally, he could only shut his mouth in frustration, shrink back into his corner, and pretend to be focused on debugging the expensive base station simulator.

Just as Perkins was huddled in the corner questioning his existence, the monitor array in front of Kevin suddenly emitted a rapid, piercing alarm.

The gray surveillance footage was covered by a series of scrolling red warning messages. Kevin put on his headphones and listened for a few seconds. His lazy expression vanished instantly, and he immediately became tense.

"Boss, something terrible has happened!"

Kevin typed rapidly on the keyboard, switching several real-time surveillance feeds of the entire city onto the big screen.

In the footage, flames are seen flying amidst torrential rain in downtown Seattle's North Side.

Groups of Black gang members and a group of bald, burly white men with swastikas tattooed on their arms were exchanging fire across the street, with some even pulling out long-barreled rifles and homemade bombs from their cars.

"It's the Blood Gang and the Aryan Brotherhood. These two lunatics have started a war in the North District. It's a frighteningly large-scale conflict; the initial estimate is that at least several dozen people are fighting."

Kevin swallowed hard, his voice trembling slightly:

"The radio station is in complete chaos."

"The headquarters' dispatch center is transferring all the patrol officers from the surrounding districts over there. Even the two patrol cars that were originally stationed near us just drove off with their sirens blaring."

"The entire police force in the western district has been almost completely depleted!"

Mia froze, staring at the battlefield-like scene on the screen.

Kevin turned his head and looked at Leon with some hesitation.

"Boss, what do we do?"

"If we go to provide support now, in a firefight of this scale, our ACU could definitely take advantage of the chaos and make a lot of money..."

Lyon stared at the firelight on the screen, a struggle flashing in his steel-gray eyes.

Indeed, in such a large-scale gang fight, the mission rewards that the system will give you after you arrive will definitely start at four figures.

As long as he leads this bunch of lunatics in, his points will rise to who knows how high after tonight.

But just as he was thinking this, his brain felt like it had been pricked by a needle, producing an extreme sense of unease.

What a coincidence!

Hayes just figured out the approximate area of ​​the transit warehouse through interrogation. Today is their first day staking out the area, and the entire West Side police force has been lured away from their posts.

Something's not right.

Lyon slammed his hand on the car door, his eyes suddenly turning cold.

He grabbed the walkie-talkie and pressed Harrison's channel:

"Harrison, everyone listen up! No one is allowed to leave their posts, not even if the mayor is kidnapped in the North End!"

"This is a fucking diversion! Those Blood Gang bastards must have realized we're watching this area. They're trying to create chaos to lure all the cops away so they can take advantage of the chaos and move the goods out of the warehouse!"

Harrison's voice came through the static and sounded very serious.

"Roger that, boss. We also think it's too much of a coincidence. Just now, one of my men wanted to join in the fun, but I stopped him."

Leon turned around and grabbed the collar of Perkins, the FBI agent who was still in a daze in the back row, with a forceful gesture.

"Hey, Detective!"

"Stop fiddling with your half-hundred-thousand-dollar junk box."

"Contact Hayes immediately and tell him to deliver the entire SWAT team from the Federal Task Force, as promised. Now! Immediately!"

Perkins was startled by Leon's menacing demeanor, and he stammered as he pointed to the screen:

"But... Officer Vance, according to procedures, we haven't found the specific warehouse coordinates, nor have we found any substantial evidence."

"I can't directly call in a fully armed task force; that requires a very high level of authorization..."

"Procedures?"

Lyon let out a cold laugh and brought his face close to Perkins's.

"I'll tell you what procedures are."

"All the police in Seattle have gone to the North Side to watch the fireworks, so this area is now a vacuum."

"If those drug dealers start transporting the drugs now, by the time your damn special task force arrives in their bulletproof vests and after having their coffee, there won't be a single gram of flour left!"

"How will Hayes write his report then? Everything is under control, except for the lost goods?"

"Hurry up!"

"How long does it take the federal task force to get here from the base? Fifteen minutes? Or twenty minutes?"

"Um... an hour?"

"????"

"Fuck!"