American Detective: Starting as a Rookie Cop in an American TV Show

Chapter 1319: Mutual sympathy between tough guys?
"Well, we can just kill him directly." The blond man with a buzz cut quickly changed his words, "Let's go together, quick, quick, quick!"

The remaining five gunmen lined up in the corridor, with their submachine guns pointed in all directions at the archive room.

"Frank, this is your last chance." Before he finished speaking, the blond man with a crew cut waved at his men, and five submachine guns opened fire at the same time.

The 5mm pistol bullets fired from the MP9 easily penetrated the "crisp" drywall partitions and ricocheted dangerously between the rows of shelves in the archive room.

Frank, who had just set up the trap, crawled into the deepest part of the room, overturned the metal table at the management staff's seat and hid behind it, his eyelids twitching as he looked at the dents made by the ricochets in front of him.

Fortunately, the opponent used a submachine gun instead of a short-barreled assault rifle with average penetration, otherwise the bald guy would have been doomed today.

After emptying a magazine, two gunmen filed in under the tactical gestures of the blond man with a buzz cut. One of them squatted down and wanted to check whether the unlucky guy who was just dragged in was dead or not.

As a result, as soon as he turned the unfortunate guy over, a grenade that was pressed underneath and had its pin pulled out rolled out and exploded with a loud bang.

It was this explosion that attracted the attention of three people who were chatting downstairs. Harry looked upstairs with his hands on his forehead, and saw document fragments blown out of the window by the shock wave falling like snowflakes.

"Isn't that Mr. Moses hanging on the windowsill?"

"It's him, no doubt about it." Marvin raised his hand and waved at Frank, who had jumped out of the window on his own initiative and was hanging on the windowsill with only ten fingers to avoid the grenade fragments.

Unfortunately, the fifth floor was a bit high, and no matter how well Frank kept his eyes and ears open, he couldn't possibly notice the three people watching the fun downstairs.

"This is a big problem." Jack sighed and cocked the MDX508 short-barreled assault rifle in his hand. "Why don't you go up and help?"
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"Bang!" Although the Winchester M1887 lever-action shotgun is old, just like some people who are still called "R.E.D." even though they are retired, its lethality is amazing.

Even ordinary bulletproof plates cannot withstand a single bullet at close range. It's a pity that people in real life don't fly like in the movies, otherwise the visual effect would be better.

The old gun turned around in Marvin's hand, and the lever-action bolt pulled down used inertia to complete the loading action again. Combined with his cowboy outfit, he looked quite handsome.

"Marvin?!" Frank, who had just nailed a gunman to the wall with a chair, struggled to get up from the ground, looking very angry. "Are you trying to drive me crazy? I knew you were pretending to be dead again!"

The sound of gunfire rang out in the corridor, but soon fell silent, followed by a familiar scream and the sound of a head hitting the ground.

Then Jack and Harry appeared at the door of the archive room together, the latter of whom was dragging the shaved golden-haired man who looked like a dead dog with one hand and one leg lifted up.

"Jack! You actually teamed up with this old lunatic to deceive me!" The bald man guessed the truth as soon as he saw someone.

Jack smiled at him. "Marvin only consulted me in advance about the correct use of pufferfish toxin. Anna was the one who helped him plan the funeral, so strictly speaking, I was just guessing, and it doesn't count as conspiracy."

Frank took a deep breath to calm himself, "Okay, now what?"

"We saw at least ten bodies along the way, all NSA employees and agents. What do you think? Are you still planning to go to your farm in Canada?" Jack asked back while helping him unlock the handcuffs.

Frank was holding his bruised forehead with a headache, but the fact that he smashed his head against the interrogation table was definitely not the real reason for his headache. "Both the NSA and this bastard are targeting the so-called 'Night Shadow' project, but the problem is that I have never heard of this code name." He pointed at the blond man with a crew cut who was being dragged by Harry.

Jack winked at Marvin, "Did all those secret missions you and Frank carried out have code names?"

Marvin shook his head honestly. "Many times we are only responsible for a small part of the entire plan execution phase. Some things are harmful to the body and mind if you know too much. I am the best example."

"If you don't intend to formally intervene officially, then we'd better withdraw now." Harry interrupted and tilted his head toward the window. The sound of sirens was getting closer and closer.

As a result, everyone moved in unison and went into the building's security passage. Not only the two "R.E.D."s, but even Jack and Harry, who had official identities, did not intend to stay at the scene and pretend to be heroes. They decided to wait and see what happened next.

Who would dare to attack the NSA's secret facility in the mainland so blatantly? You have to know that Newark is located between New York and Washington, DC. Before figuring out the other party's origins, the best option for the two of them is to hide in the dark and wait and see.

Jack stayed until the end and planned to clean up the traces, but after thinking it over he gave up. This time he had stirred up a hornet's nest, and the NSA would probably go crazy.

Frank was taken away in public before. There is no point in cleaning up any traces of his presence. The NSA can easily find him. He has to take the blame for the time being.

I guess Jubal will see the bald guy’s photo on the wanted poster later.

Frank and Marvin, who were walking in the middle, were still arguing about something about deception. It was obvious that the bald guy was still angry about Marvin's fake death.

"To be honest, it was really touching to see you crying for me at the funeral." Marvin said seriously.

Frank clenched his back teeth and looked back at Jack in disbelief, with a look of betrayal on his face.

"It has nothing to do with me. Your girlfriend told him." Jack hastened to clarify that his hobby was just gossiping, and gossiping was something only girls did.

"That's not true. I wasn't crying." Frank opened the trunk and helped Harry stuff his short-haired blond hair with a fist mark on his face into it.

"Do you think tough guys like us would shed tears?" He asked Harry, who looked innocent, as if seeking approval.

Strictly speaking, the two parties are still strangers now, but it is obvious that strong people will respect each other. Harry smiled and nodded, opened the door of the Subaru and got in the passenger seat first.

The bald man, who was a beat slower, stopped his hand in mid-air, clenched his fist and then unclenched it. He glanced at Harry, who was a size bigger than him, and said nothing, then got into the trunk that Marvin had opened for him.

"This is Harry Tasker, now in charge of the 'Last Line of Defense'." Jack started the car and turned back to introduce the two parties.

"'Omega'? The one that's both CIA and FBI?" Marvin said he had heard of this motto.

Seeing Frank still sulking there, Jack said casually, "Harry has a daughter, so he will definitely shed tears at his daughter's wedding, right?"

(End of this chapter)