Chapter 37: You Dare to Oppose Him?

Even after witnessing Milton’s decisiveness many times, Brandon was momentarily stunned by the sheer insanity of that statement.

In a situation where they could not overtake the police cruiser yet had to reach the destination before them, a direct attack was indeed the simplest and most effective method. However, doing so meant declaring total war against the high-ranking officials who had the police department in their pockets. Furthermore, there would be countless unpredictable, negative repercussions—this was, after all, blowing up police officers in the middle of the street.

Yet, once Milton realized that this was the only card he held, he played it without a moment’s hesitation. Deal with the consequences later; survive the current crisis first. Beneath that madness lay a state of absolute, icy rationality.

Milton climbed through the sunroof, aimed at the police cruiser pulling further and further away, locked on with the sight, and pulled the trigger.

Thump!

The M381 high-explosive grenade flew out, skimmed over the roof of the police cruiser, and landed on the road ahead of it.

BOOM!

The flames from the violent explosion illuminated the entire road and the other police cruiser beside Milton that had been attempting to interfere. The blast clearly revealed the shock and fury on the faces of the two officers inside.

Milton calmly pushed the release pin on the launcher, waited for the casing to eject, loaded a new grenade, and pulled back the handguard to chamber it. After a quick calibration of his aim, he pulled the trigger again without hesitation.

The second grenade landed to the rear-right of the cruiser attempting to reach the waste treatment plant. The shockwave from the blast shattered every window on the vehicle. The lead cruiser nearly spun out of control, and although the driver managed to regain command, the distance between them had closed significantly. The two cars were now barely fifty meters apart. The officer driving the lead cruiser was visibly panicked.

Good. At such close range, with the enemy showing signs of panic, the next shot was guaranteed to hit. Milton estimated the distance and loaded the third grenade.

"Hey, wait a minute!!!"

The officer in the cruiser beside them rolled down his window and shouted. They had clearly received information from their teammates ahead via radio and were attempting to negotiate. Milton ignored him entirely and pulled the trigger of the M203 grenade launcher for the third time.

The grenade shattered the already cracked rear windshield, plunged into the cabin, and detonated with a violent blast.

The shockwave lifted the tail of the cruiser into the air, turning a vehicle that had symbolized authority seconds ago into a mass of twisted, flaming metal. A second later, the fuel tank ignited, and the resulting pillar of fire and searing heat instantly incinerated the officers inside before they could even scream.

Only then did Milton turn his gaze toward the other police cruiser, the raging inferno reflected in his calm eyes. Almost simultaneously, that cruiser swerved, mounted the sidewalk on the opposite side, and then wobbled back onto the road, roaring away in a pathetic retreat. As it turned, Milton faintly heard shouting from the vehicle.

"Fuck this! I’m not getting paid enough for this! I’m not dealing with some lunatic who shells police cruisers in town. Are you crazy? You want to go up against a guy like that?!"

Milton actually wanted to clarify that it was a grenade launcher—a heavy version of a hand grenade—not artillery. But never mind; he wouldn't bother arguing with someone ignorant of military hardware.

Once Milton confirmed the cruiser had truly fled, he climbed back into the cabin and sat down. The other three teammates remained in a state of stunned silence. After a long while, Brandon finally spoke up: "Uh, there won't be anyone else coming, right?"

Veronica, the rookie, felt the terror of Milton’s methods for the first time. She swallowed hard and said, "We'll be at the waste treatment plant in less than half a minute. Anyone who could make it here can't beat... the Boss; and anyone who could beat the Boss can't make it here in time."

She had started calling him "Boss" involuntarily, feeling that even the title didn't quite do him justice. Luz merely shook his head, looking dazed. "My God..."

Faint sirens could still be heard in the distance, but they were too far away to catch up. Sensing the strange atmosphere in the car, Milton spoke in an indifferent tone to soothe them: "Don't forget, we’ve already provoked the Vancome Gang, the Green Vine Foundation, and the border patrol. Adding the police department to the list isn't a big deal."

Brandon turned off the headlights and sighed. "Boss, that sounds great, but could you please stop talking? I really won't be able to sleep tonight."

"My God..."

Half a minute later, the battered Chevrolet Caprice reached the gate of the waste treatment plant. A Vancome gang member stood at the entrance, smoking a cigarette with a relaxed expression. He already knew someone was targeting the plant, but the gang had reacted quickly, dispatching every available vehicle to intercept them while simultaneously contacting the compromised police high command.

That lunatic prosecutor wouldn't be able to break through. Once the main police force arrived and cordoned off the scene, they would have plenty of time to dispose of the evidence. They would lose a lot of profit, but it was better than losing their lives.

"The sound of a car engine. They're back? That fast? Why aren't they using their headlights..."

BOOM!

Before he could finish his thought, he was struck by the car, his body severed at the waist, rolled under the tires, and ground into pulp. The Chevrolet Caprice smashed through the barrier and reached the main entrance of the plant.

Brandon kept his foot on the gas and shouted, "Boss, the rolling shutter door is closed. What do we do?"

Milton touched the cooling barrel of his FN FAL. "Ram it. Anyone who resists, kill them on sight. No warnings."

Crash!

The thin metal door was smashed open. The stench of rotting, putrid garbage flooded the cabin. Before Milton’s eyes lay a harrowing scene: three incinerators in the center of the plant were spitting flames, and several men were desperately throwing crates of medicine into them!

Give them ten more minutes, and perhaps all the Troglitazone would be incinerated. But Milton had arrived far, far too quickly.

The two officers inside saw the car charging in and panic flared in their eyes. They hurried forward, saying, "Hey, Brandon, brother from the checkpoint, this is a misunderstanding, we were just investigating..."

Rat-tat-tat...

Milton stepped out of the car with his TEC-9 and shot both officers dead instantly. He then issued a warning to the others: "Three seconds. Stop what you’re doing, or you die."

Looking at the illicitly unsealed experimental drug packaging scattered on the ground and the large number of medicine bottles half-swapped, Milton finally let out a long sigh of relief.

Caught red-handed. Safe.

Those preparing to burn the evidence immediately froze. If he would execute police officers without a second thought, who dared to oppose him?

"We're not moving, we're not moving! Don't shoot!"

Milton picked up his ticket book. As he signed a citation, he said coldly, "Drug smuggling, forging drug labels, damaging checkpoint property, illegal possession of controlled weapons, murder of police officers, destruction of police vehicles... Now, I am issuing a fine for your aforementioned actions. Does anyone have any objections?"

Technically, the last three items didn't fall under the checkpoint's jurisdiction, and the panel wouldn't grant points for such fines... but since they had a police officer like Brandon on the team, Milton would just handle it for him for the time being.

Even without points, the cash from the fines was still money.