Super Detective in the Fictional World - Chapter 997
Chapter 997: All Big Bosses Have Secret Compartments In Their Basements?
Luke frowned, but still took out his gun and rolled down the window.
This was New Jersey, but a bunch of people had died in the villa.
He wouldn’t shoot unless it was absolutely necessary, to avoid the New Jersey police investigating him, but he also didn’t want to see a police officer who was just doing his job be killed.
On the drone screen, the man got up with difficulty and opened the door.
“Good evening, John,” the patrol officer greeted him.
“Good evening, Jimmy. Noise complaint?” John replied calmly.
On the drone screen, the pistol at his back hadn’t moved.
The officer nodded slowly. “That’s right, noise complaint.” Then, he tilted his head and looked in through the gap next to John, only to see the body of a man in a black suit lying on the ground.
John also turned around.
Luke raised his gun, but just rested it on his half-rolled down window, and didn’t take aim.
If John wanted to silence the officer, this would be the time.
The patrol officer, however, sighed and scratched his head. “You’re working again?”
John said calmly, “No, just sorting some things out.”
The patrolman said, “Wow, I see. Okay, that’s it then. Good night, John.” He put on his hat and left.
His pace was no different from before.
From the car, Luke could see that the officer wasn’t scared or nervous at all. Instead, he looked like he had expected it.
Clearly, the officer knew John’s background and wasn’t surprised that someone had died in his house.
Watching the patrol officer get into the car and leave, Luke put his gun away and rolled up the window.
John, who was at the door of the villa, sensed something and looked at the Ford, but the window was already up, and he couldn’t see Luke in the dark car.
He frowned and closed the door.
There might be a passer-by in the car who had heard the noise, but since this person couldn’t see what was going on in the villa, it didn’t matter.
Luke worked quickly for a moment before he parked the drone in a corner of the basement and turned it into a fixed surveillance camera. He then helped the pliant artist up and put her back in the passenger seat. “Alright, I can’t wait to go back to your dorm for coffee.”
Elena spat at him, but there was no objection on her face.
The Ford started up, turned a corner, and drove another kilometer. It wasn’t far from Paland Academy.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Elena looked to her right in surprise, but couldn’t see anything in the distance. She exclaimed, “Is that… gunfire?”
Luke was a little annoyed. What? Again? Since when was New Jersey so lawless?
He immediately said, “…Lie down and lean closer to me. Don’t raise your head.”
At the same time, he turned off the headlights and slowed down to pull over.
The gunshots were too close.
In the few seconds since Luke heard the gunshots, more than a hundred gunshots had been fired.
Luke could already tell that there were at least five rifles firing at the same time. Were they crazy?
Although this was the outskirts of North Bergen, was it really okay to cause such a huge commotion?
John hadn’t caused such a huge ruckus at home even when he took on twelve people alone.
Could it be an army? Or… mercenaries? Thinking to himself, he released the second mini drone for the night.
The drone moved nimbly through the woods and found ten people who had surrounded a two-story building. They were firing rifles at the house.
Looking at their posture, Luke exclaimed inwardly.
These ten people were also wearing black headgear and black suits, but they were all wearing professional combat uniforms and bulletproof vests.
At first glance, Luke saw M4A1s, AR-15s, and expensive HK416s in their hands. They were all specially modified weapons.
Compared with the twelve men in black suits who had died in John’s villa, the black combat suits here were the real professionals, and clearly part of the military.
No wonder their methods were so simple and crude! Luke murmured to himself as he operated the drone so that it slipped into the house where bullets were flying.
Three black fighters had collapsed at the kitchen door. They were clearly on the same side as the ones outside.
One head was stuck in the kitchen door.
Another head hung at a weird angle. It was obvious that his neck was broken.
The last one was stiff and had an empty syringe in his neck.
Luke smacked his lips. “Interesting.”
Elena couldn’t help but ask in a low voice, “You’re not going, are you? It’s too dangerous.”
Luke rubbed her earlobe and said, “Hey, I’m NYPD, not New Jersey police. I don’t have law enforcement power here.”
Elena was relieved. “Then what are you going to do?”
Luke said, “Don’t worry, I’ve already called the police.”
Hearing the standard reply from Luke felt a little strange, but she didn’t say anything.
Luke wasn’t worried.
Clearly, just like John, the residents in this building weren’t ordinary people.
Three men in black combat uniforms had already been taken down inside, which meant that they weren’t completely unprepared.
Luke gently rubbed Elena’s earlobe with one hand and had the drone fly around the house like earlier.
The drone found an open basement door again.
Luke smacked his lips. “Seriously? Another basement?”
The drone, however, had already flown in.
A moment later, Luke had a strange expression on his face.
On the screen, this basement didn’t look much like the basement in John’s villa, but now, there was an eight-pound sledgehammer on the ground, broken concrete, and… an open box in the ground.
Apart from the size of the box and the fact that there were no weapons or gold coins inside, this basically was a copy of the basement in John’s villa.
“What a coincidence,” Luke murmured. “Does every bigshot have a secret compartment like this in their basement? Also, do they like to pick up their sledgehammers only when the enemy shows up?”
What happened next was similar to what happened in John’s villa. The ten combat soldiers that entered the house were wiped out in less than five minutes.
The barefooted baldie in pajamas was extremely terrifying.
Although his strength and speed weren’t exaggerated, he relied on something close to foresight to move swiftly and soundlessly, and ten men in black combat uniforms delivered their heads to his gun.
One shot per person. The P226 didn’t even need to be reloaded for these ten combat soldiers.
Then, the bald bigshot, who was about fifty years old, picked up a backpack and left.
After he left, the bullet-riddled house exploded, blowing a huge chunk of the roof off.
The baldie didn’t even turn around. He got into his car and left, as if a real man never looked back at an explosion.
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