CHAPTER 50: CHAPTER 31: WAR (PART 2)

"If those guys come, I’ll blow their heads off with my big gun."

A black man lifted his shirt, revealing a silver Desert Eagle inside.

"Business must go on; we’ve taken over this residential area, there’s plenty of customers here."

"Of course, today’s earnings are double what they used to be."

"Alright, stay vigilant and don’t let your guard down."

The four of them were chatting.

Two motorcycles sped over, with four helmet-wearing guys on them.

The motorcycles passed by the Costa Ricans.

The rear rider raised an Uzi submachine gun, bang bang bang bang bang!

The trigger was pulled, with bright flames flashing from the muzzle.

The bullets flew towards the four like a swarm of bees.

Bang bang bang bang!

The bullets struck the ground leaving a row of black marks.

The Costa Ricans just noticed it and saw two gunmen firing simultaneously.

Shells fell to the ground.

Bam. The bullet pierced the black man’s chest, a mist of blood rising from his torso.

Bam bam bam.

One shot, two shots, three shots, in the blink of an eye seven bullets hit the target.

The other three were also hit by several bullets, fell to the ground, and blood flowed from their wounds, forming a pool on the ground.

"Ahhh!" The surrounding crowd screamed, some squatting down while others screamed and ran away.

The area under the residential building fell into chaos.

The four riders, after firing, quickly left, and the gunman in the back took out a phone.

"Boss, position 1 cleared!"

At the entrance of an Upper East Side alley, two Costa Ricans were smoking, with a junkie sniffling, huddled over to one of them.

"Got any?"

The guy with a skull tattoo on his arm blew a smoke ring and nodded.

The junkie pulled out a roll of cash.

The skull-tattooed man pocketed the money, whistling.

In the dark alley, another Costa Rican placed a small plastic bag at the bottom of the trash bin.

The junkie went in, reached down to grab the plastic bag, and stuffed it into his pocket.

The transaction went smoothly.

Three hooded men on both sides of the alley slowly approached. Suddenly, they pulled out handguns.

Bang bang bang!

The bullets flew towards the enemies.

Bang bang bang!

The bullets hit the walls, sparking off.

Bam, the skull-tattooed man’s partner across him was shot in the thigh.

"Damn it! There are enemies!"

The injured guy limped into the alley, moving and shooting backward.

The tattooed man hid behind the corner, holding up a handgun to return fire.

Bang bang bang bang!

The dark alley was filled with gunfire.

The firing was very dense, and the fight was intense.

There was nothing like the movies with one-shot-one-kill.

No sharpshooters, and certainly no Stallone taking down five with a handgun.

A chaotic fight, more accurately back-and-forth shooting.

The Costa Ricans, hidden behind walls, returned fire without even checking where the enemies were.

They didn’t dare to peek, fearing stray bullets might hit them.

The Johnny Clan guys crouched and fired at the alley entrance.

Like a group of amateur militia playing war games.

The entire battlefield was about ten meters apart, with an unusually fierce conflict.

Bang bang bang, bang bang bang!

The bullets were like they were free, everyone had just one idea: shoot, damn it, hitting the target was up to God.

This was the real battlefield.

At the seaside parking lot, the best place for drug sales because there were patrols on the beach, and the parking lot was quiet and discreet.

Four Costa Ricans stood around the parking lot, carefully watching the surroundings.

With a screech, an SUV stopped by the roadside, and a tall Latino Johnny stepped out holding a shotgun.

Bam. Flames shot from the muzzle, and the tremendous force sent a Costa Rican flying.

He hit the ground heavily, chest a mess of blood and flesh, with a charred smell.

Bam!

The bullet opened the trunk of a car, the rear riddled with bullet holes.

"Hey, KID! Daddy Johnny is here!"

Bam!

"Fack! It’s Johnny, call for backup."

Bam! The guy hiding behind the car was hit by a row of bullets, the vehicle pierced through.

Two Latinos with assault rifles stood next to Johnny.

"Take them out!"

Beep beep beep, the car alarms went off.

The parking lot became noisy.

Three minutes later, five Costa Ricans ran from the beach around the parking lot, joining the fight with handguns.

Hiding behind an SUV, Johnny loaded his gun.

"Boss, we have too few people."

"Call for backup."

"Everyone else has targets."

"What about Kenny?" Johnny loaded the bullets and lay on the ground observing the enemy’s legs.

Then he stood up and quickly fired, bang!

Squatting down again, Johnny picked up the phone.

"Sofia, where’s Kenny?"

"Kenny went to attack the Costa Ricans’ lair."

"WHAT?" Johnny’s eyes widened. Even he wouldn’t dare go. Is this kid crazy?

"He’s going to attack their seafood factory. Because Alfredo Gonzalez is there. He wants to end the war."

"Are you kidding me? Fack!"

"It’s true."

"Alright, he’s a good kid, just too stupid."

Yes, Sofia thought so too.

"How many people went?"

"Two people!"

"Fack! Madman!" Johnny shouted, "Two people want to take out a dozen of them? Is his brain broken?"

"Maybe!"

"Motherfucker!"

I couldn’t hear Johnny’s curses as the motorcycle was on its way to the seafood factory.

Lights were on in the seafood factory.

A group of gunmen was adjusting their weapons.

Boss Alfredo sat in his office, listening to his underling’s report.

"Did that idiot Johnny declare war on us?"

"Yes, we lost four people in the residential area, one dead and two wounded in the alley of the shopping street, and they had three injured. They all fled the scene, and the MPD has arrived.

Johnny and his men raided our sales point by the sea, and the brothers are in fierce battle, their firepower is strong but they have fewer people."

"Idiots, they got eight of their men captured, they’re outnumbered. In a while, we’ll launch a counterattack. Have the guys ready their weapons."

"Yes, Boss!"

Taking a puff from his cigar, Alfredo said, "The situation is in our favor." As long as we devour the Johnny Clan, he’d be the largest gang leader in the Upper East Side.

Dealing drugs would bring triple the revenue.

Attack the lair? Such an unrealistic idea that Johnny would never do, he’s by the sea right now.

"If that idiot attacked here, it would be great, I could take him out."

"Johnny attacking us, unless he’s gone mad," laughed the underling.

Nobody would believe the Johnny Clan would attack the seafood factory.

Outside an abandoned supermarket, a black motorcycle flashed its lights in the night.

I looked at the distant lights, "Are you scared?"

"No, I’m not scared." Ella raised her assault rifle.

I gradually slowed down, and three smoking guys at the entrance of the supermarket noticed me.

They stood up slowly with cigarettes in their mouths.

"Hey, this is private property."

Bang bang bang!

Ella frowned and pulled the trigger.

Bullets left the barrel, spinning through the air with a rush.

Bam, a bullet passed through one guy’s shoulder, skin caving in instantly, the bullet moving at high speed in the air, its heat scorching cell tissue, muscles tearing, blood vessels sliced.

Bam bam!

Bullets pierced through bodies one after another, hitting the wall behind.

The gunfire ceased, and three Costa Ricans lay on the ground.

I stopped the bike and looked at the groaning guys on the ground.

"Fack. Enemy, there’s an enemy, damn it, how dare he come here?"

I took out my handgun and walked up slowly.

"No, no, don’t kill me." The last Costa Rican looked at me in terror, legs kicking the ground, trying to escape.

I said nothing, raising my arm.

"No, please!"

Bam!

The bullet pierced through the enemy’s forehead.

Blood sprayed everywhere.

I coldly looked at the corpse on the ground, took out the AR16 from my backpack, and flipped the safety off.

"GO!"

"COPY!"

Pushing open the supermarket door, I walked in, Ella following behind.

Her talent and skills were put to use, the shooting was very stable just now, like a professionally trained shooter.

The supermarket hall was now the seafood factory, with two rectangular concrete slabs in the middle.

The concrete slabs were stained with blood, with a strong smell of fish.

There were some trash cans on the ground, filled with discarded fish and shrimp guts.

After Ella and I came in, the gang members who were adjusting their weapons were shocked as if struck by lightning, turning into statues.

They couldn’t have imagined anyone would attack them.

"Hey, GUYS!"

Upon hearing my voice, a smile appeared in my vision.

Next came a violent flash. Bang bang bang bang!

"Fack!"