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

Chapter 93 Connections (3k)

Two o'clock in the afternoon, at a tactical shooting training base outside Seattle.

This is a semi-open shooting range located in the southern suburbs of Seattle, surrounded by mountains on three sides, and is specifically used for long gun and sniper training for SWAT teams and tactical groups from various precincts.

Pushing open the heavy iron door of the rest area, a pungent smell of gunpowder mixed with gun oil and fermented sweat immediately hits you.

From the distant open-air firing range, the muffled "bang bang" of large-caliber rifles firing could be heard continuously, making the windowpanes tremble slightly.

In the US police system, obtaining certification as a marksman is definitely not as simple as firing a couple of shots at a shooting range and hitting a few bullseyes; live-fire shooting actually only accounts for a small part of the process.

Before they can even handle a real gun, all applicants must first endure dozens of hours of hellish theory classes in a sweltering classroom.

These rough men, who usually only know how to step on the gas and pull the trigger on the street, have to force themselves to memorize complex ballistic coefficients, the effect of air humidity on the trajectory of the bullet, wind drift calculation formulas, and how to estimate the distance of a target hundreds of meters away by relying solely on the mil dots in the scope without any electronic aids. Finally, they also have to memorize a bunch of difficult technical terms.

For grassroots police officers, who generally have low levels of education, this is even more dangerous than having to fight drug dealers hand-to-hand.

At this moment, more than a dozen trainees were sprawled out on the benches in the rest area.

Most of them are SWAT reserves selected from various branches, or seasoned veterans who want to use this certificate to get a few hundred dollars more in special allowances every month.

This group of people had just finished a week-long grueling theory course and a final written exam.

Everyone was fully armed, wearing heavy tactical vests and camouflage training uniforms. They were all covered in dust and dirt, with dark circles under their eyes, staring blankly at the floor, as if their souls had been completely drained by those damned parabolic formulas.

In this lifeless atmosphere, the door to the rest area was pushed open.

Leon swaggered in, hands in his pockets.

He was wearing the dark gray casual jacket that Lily had bought for him the day before yesterday, loose jeans, and ordinary sneakers.

His extremely casual attire stood out starkly among a room full of fully armed tactical warriors.

Several SWAT trainees sitting at the door frowned, looking him up and down warily. Some even tried to get up and shoo him away, thinking he was some clueless passerby or a delivery person who had come to the wrong door.

Before they could speak, the door to the instructors' room on the other side of the rest area was kicked open.

Barnes, the chief examiner in charge of this assessment, strode out.

This is a typical old-school tough guy, with a buzz cut close to his scalp, and the lines on his face are as hard as if carved by a knife. You can also see an old knife scar on his neck.

"Attention, everyone! Assemble!"

Sergeant Barnes roared at the top of his lungs, the sound so loud it hurt people's ears.

The trainees, who had been slumped in their chairs, jumped up as if by reflex and, with heavy steps, quickly formed two rows in the open space.

Lyon didn't make any special arrangements; he strolled over slowly and stood at the very edge of the line.

Barnes held a tactical tablet in his hand, his sharp gaze sweeping across the team before finally settling on Leon, who was dressed casually.

"Hey, look who's here."

Barnes sneered, showing no intention of giving Leon any face, and pointed at him with his finger: "That busy man who isn't in uniform, step forward."

Lyon raised an eyebrow and took a step forward from the group.

The other trainees turned around, looking curiously at the guy who had just come in and was now being singled out by the instructor.

"The theory class is over, ladies! This afternoon is the live-fire test."

"But before that, let me introduce you to this man who has been all over the news these past few days, the superhero of the West Precinct, Officer Leon Vance."

Barnes sounded very dissatisfied. What he hated most was the interference of those politicians in the upper echelons of administration in the training base. Raymond's contact had forced Lyon into his class in this way.

"Because Officer Vance is now a favorite of the mayor, the bigwigs in the department have high hopes for him."

"So, he was given special permission to join our group directly. He doesn't need to spend forty hours in the classroom like you idiots listening to those boring ballistic theories."

"He only needs to fire a few shots here this afternoon to get the same license as you."

The atmosphere in the team changed instantly after those words were spoken.

Although everyone had seen the news and knew about the ruthless things Lyon had done in the industrial area the night before last, they felt a certain amount of awe.

I also know that those dozens of hours of theoretical classes were indeed useless and disgusting.

But that's just how people are.

Why is it that when I'm struggling with math problems in the classroom, you, a celebrity police officer, can just use your fame to get in and reap the rewards?

I hate math!!

This blatant privilege of not having to learn math inevitably provokes resentment and hostility from the public.

People weren't stupid enough to think Leon was incompetent, but they were all wondering if his reputation was exaggerated, and many were even secretly hoping he would embarrass himself at the shooting range soon.

In the back row of the team, a young SWAT reserve lowered his voice and whispered to the person next to him.

They've gotten to know each other well after spending the last few days struggling with math together in the classroom.

The young man's name is Johnny.

He was recognized as one of the best among the trainees, coming from the tactical team of the South District Branch.

Not only did he get a perfect score in the physical fitness test, but he was also the only top student who could calculate the wind shift correction value by hand in ten minutes during the previous theoretical test.

He, who usually thought highly of himself, was even more indignant when he saw that Leon had skipped the theory class.

"What the hell is this?"

Johnny stared intently at Leon's retreating figure, his face full of displeasure: "We've been stuck in the classroom for a whole week, our brains are about to explode. And he, on the other hand, just comes here to go through the motions?"

"Even if he's good in street combat, this is a marksman assessment! Ignoring wind direction and position, does he really think he can become a sniper just by holding a sniper rifle?"

"This kind of favoritism is disgusting."

Standing next to him was a seasoned patrolman, Jack, who was almost forty years old.

Jack is a typical perk hunter.

His belly was slightly protruding, and his uniform was a bit tight.

I'm not here for any career aspirations; it's purely because if I get the marksman certification, I'll get an extra $300 in special skills allowance on my monthly paycheck.

Compared to Johnny's indignation, Jack seemed completely unconcerned, and even yawned widely when the instructor wasn't looking.

If he doesn't pass this time, he's already prepared to come back and audit another week of theory classes.

"Save your breath, kid."

Jack rolled his eyes, his voice barely audible: "You're still too naive. What is he now? He's the West District Chief's confidant, someone personally praised by the mayor."

"You expect this big star to come and spend a week looking at PowerPoint presentations in a shabby classroom with us?"

"The fact that they were willing to personally make a trip to the firing range to go through the procedures is already a great honor for the Ministry of the Interior."

Jack nudged Johnny with his elbow: "Besides, since they dared to come directly to the live-fire class, it means they're confident they can pass."

"You haven't seen enough. In my experience, these ruthless people all have unique skills."

"If it weren't for that old fogey Barnes keeping an eye on things, afraid he'd make things difficult for me—I would have gone over and offered him a cigarette to curry favor."

"Damn it, that damn mil point conversion almost killed me, and I still don't understand it."

At the front of the line, Barnes ignored the whispers of the students below.

He strode up to Leon, extended a thick finger, and poked Leon's shoulder without hesitation, saying sternly, "Listen, Vance."

"I don't care how fierce you are on the streets, nor do I care how much the mayor and your pretty branch chief like you."

"On my shooting range, there are no heroes, only marksmen."

"The paper target doesn't lie. If you hit it accurately, you get your certificate and are free. If you miss, no matter who approved the pass, you have to go back and retake the theory class!"

Despite Barnes' warning, Lyon was not provoked.

He simply shrugged indifferently, without even changing his posture, and said in a very casual tone: "Instructor, I'm a very busy man."

"There are a bunch of drug dealers and psychopaths waiting for me to deal with outside. I really don't have time to sit here and study how many seconds it takes for a bullet to fly through the air."

"So what if you skipped the theory classes?"

Lyon looked Barnes in the eye and spread his hands: "I'm just here to get a certificate so I can go back and continue fighting crime. Even without a theory class, I can still hit this target and pass."

"Oh."

Barnes was amused by Lyon's arrogant and self-righteous attitude.

mad!

He'd seen arrogant people before, but he'd never seen anyone who wouldn't even put on an act.

"Okay! Well said!"

Barnes abruptly withdrew his hand, took a step back, and said loudly, "Since you think theory lessons are useless, and since you're so confident in yourself..."

"Then let's play something real."

"Perfect timing! As the only special case to join today, Vance, if you can get first place overall in all live-fire exercises today!"

"Then I'll accept what you just said!"

"I absolutely won't waste your time, you busy man, on your mission to save the world! As soon as the assessment is over, I'll sign and issue your certificate on the spot; you won't even have to wait for the headquarters' mailing review process!"

"But if you don't get first place—"

Barnes gave a cold smile. "Then you'd better get your ass to the next training course!"