I'm a spy in the film

Isidoro is a small city near Austin, Texas.

Because it is located on the Colorado River, it is humid and rainy all year round, and is famous in Texas for its frequent thunderstorms.

At this moment, Bourne was in the center of the office hall of the Yashitu City Police Station, angrily questioning a fat police officer with a big belly behind the desk:

"Officer, what do you mean you can't leave?"

“That’s what it means literally!

According to the city government, due to the recent thunderstorms that have caused many deaths, shipping and land transportation will be temporarily closed from 6 pm today. The specific closure time will depend on the weather conditions. It is already 6 pm now. "

"I saw you holding that notice half an hour ago. You knew I had something urgent to do, so why didn't you tell me earlier? I still have a chance to leave on the last ship, and now you tell me what to do and how to leave?!"

The fat police officer looked nonchalant, without even raising his head, and said perfunctorily without any sincerity: "Sorry."

Looking at the other party's face that was as calm as a dead pig that was not afraid of boiling water, Bourne's inexplicable anger suddenly rose up.

He grabbed the fat police officer by the collar and, using one arm, lifted the fat man, who weighed at least 200 pounds, up from his seat and lifted him into the air.

The fat police officer's face turned red, partly because of anger and partly because of fear.

His fat and short limbs were waving in the air. He wanted to shout but couldn't utter a word.

Immediately afterwards, the fat police officer felt the world spinning around him, and then his back hit the ground heavily and he passed out.

The old wooden boards were hit so hard that they made a heavy muffled sound as if they could not bear the weight. The dust that had accumulated under the wooden floor for many years took the opportunity to spray out from the cracks, raising a large amount of dust.

This scene shocked everyone in the hall.

The next moment, the hall was like a hornet's nest poked by a bamboo pole. The policemen who were dawdling and waiting for the end of their shift all pulled out their guns and pointed them at this side, shouting:

"Put your hands up! Put your hands up, asshole!"

"FBI!"

“I said put your hands up!” the officers yelled.

"I said, you don't understand what I'm saying? Look at my ID carefully! If anyone points a gun at me again, I will not be polite to him!"

Bourne held up his ID in his left hand so that everyone present could see the words on it clearly, and glared at the policeman in front of him.

They were old and young, male and female, all holding SIG Sauer P229s and looking unfriendly.

An old policeman with gray hair standing closest to them held his gun very steadily, and seemed to be the spokesperson for these policemen.

He showed a look of contempt on his face and said disdainfully: "Boy, no matter who you are, if you dare to beat our people in the police station, you will suffer today!"

"I told you right after I came in that I had something urgent to do. This guy saw the notice half an hour ago, but he told me now that he couldn't leave. What do you think I should do?"

"Ha ha!"

The old policeman sneered twice: "I don't care what happened to you! I just know that you have to pay the price today! No one has ever beaten someone up in the Yashitu Police Station and got away with it! Boy, when we get to the cell later, I'll see if you're still so stubborn!"

"How dare you attack someone from the FBI?"

"Hmph, stop talking nonsense and put the handcuffs on yourself, so you can get beaten less later!"

As he spoke, the old policeman took off a pair of handcuffs from his waist and threw them at Bourne's feet.

Bourne laughed in anger.

He had just wiped out a cannibal tribe at Yellowstone Farm this morning, and before he had time to rest, he received a call saying that his father, Old Nord, and a dozen of his good truck drivers had disappeared while tracking down a motorcycle gang, and the location was near Austin.

Worried about his father, Bourne didn't bother to discuss rebuilding the farm with Aunt Beth and the others. He booked the nearest flight to Austin and flew directly here.

When he arrived in Austin, he found that the person who called him was a member of his father's church.

Members told Byrne that for unknown reasons, this group of motorcycle gangs scratched the trucks of more than a dozen members of the union and threatened to scratch more in the future.

This pissed off a lot of truck drivers in Austin.

So under the organization of the union, more than 30 drivers were divided into three teams to chase after the motorcycle gang and teach them a lesson.

This group of motorcyclists were traveling westward along the Colorado River, so the three teams of drivers also followed this route. However, within less than a day, all three teams lost contact.

Since it was less than 24 hours and the police did not intervene, the union quickly contacted the drivers' families to discuss what to do.

Bourne didn't have time to listen to the crying families, nor did he want to wait for the local police to investigate. He asked about the route, rented a car, and headed west along the Colorado River, looking for clues.

When he arrived at the small town of Yashitu, he didn't even have time to drink a sip of water and ran to the police station to inquire about information. Unexpectedly, such a thing happened.

At first, the fat policeman made all kinds of excuses for Bourne's request to see the surveillance video of the nearest major intersection.

Even though Bourne showed him a certificate of assistance in the investigation issued by the Austin Police Department, the guy refused to budge and even suggested that Bourne pay a tip.

After Bourne paid a 50-meter price, he finally saw the surveillance video, but it also delayed his departure from the city.

Bourne doesn't want to wait for the illusory 'time when the thunderstorm stops' in this small town. He wants to go find his missing father.

So, the conflict broke out.

At this moment, with seven guns pointed at him, Bourne could only keep his left hand holding up his ID while slowly squatting down to pick up the handcuffs on the ground.

Seeing this scene, the policemen present all showed relaxed and complacent smiles on their faces. Only the old police officer standing in the front frowned. Somehow, he felt that there was something wrong with this young and somewhat over-the-top FBI agent.

Where is it?

That’s right! His eyes were full of murderous intent!

No, he wants to...

Before the old police officer could remind his colleagues behind him, Bourne had already moved.

He suddenly leaped forward from his half-crouching position, using the desk as cover to quickly move through the aisle.

The next second, one could hear a series of screams of “Ouch, ouch”. The policeman who was standing with a gun in his hand suddenly felt a pain in his leg and fell to the ground. The gun in his hand was kicked away.

Those who have strong willpower and hold the gun handle tightly will immediately receive a second or third attack on the armpits and sides of the abdomen, and eventually they will be forced to let go due to unbearable pain.

After a while, there were no more policemen standing in the hall.

Everyone held their wrists, sitting, lying, or crawling on the ground, watching in horror as Bourne calmly stood up, collected their guns together, and threw them into a wastebasket.

"Now, is there anyone who can tell me how to leave Yashitu safely and quickly? If no one is around, I'll just throw this bucket of garbage into the Colorado River!"

Bourne slammed the wastebasket containing seven SIG Sauer guns on the desk with a loud thud, which scared the policemen on the ground.

Where have they ever seen such a ruthless person who beat up police officers in the lobby of a police station and threatened to throw the police officers' guns into the river?

Not to mention seeing it, I've never even heard of it.

At most, in a small town in the south near the border, drug dealers would attack the police station, but Yashitu was in the heart of Texas.

Alas, I can’t win by fighting.

Threat?

They are the FBI and they are just passing by. I am not afraid at all.

Apologize?

I can't bring myself to do that. There are so many colleagues here. This is not just a loss of face for one person, but a loss of face for the entire Yashitu Police Station!

Just then, there was a noisy sound outside, and then the door of the service hall was pushed open, and a group of people walked in.

Leading the group were a dozen or so thugs in handcuffs, and behind them were six police officers escorting them.

These people were stunned when they entered the hall.

Because the hall was empty at this time, except for a handsome young man in a suit in the middle, all the other policemen who were supposed to work here were gone.

When it comes to reading people's expressions, the hooligans who have been hanging around on the streets for years are much better than most policemen who just get by. They were the first to notice that something was wrong here:

All the policemen here were controlled by this young man, because they saw several policemen sitting on the ground with their wrists in their hands, and a fat policeman lying in the middle, unconscious.

Very good, brother, you are awesome, but we are not bad either!

The few hooligans in the lead suppressed their excitement and communicated with their companions behind them through eye contact.

Soon, almost all the gangsters knew that all the police officers in the police station were wiped out, but they kept it a secret from the police behind them. Those stupid cops knew nothing and were still in a daze!

Humph, we will be free soon!

At this moment, an abrupt voice sounded, breaking the strange atmosphere in the hall. This voice was full of panic and anger:

"Catch him quickly, this guy attacked the police!"