manynovel Chapter 43 Threatening the Chief, Frank's Fury
Chapter 43 Threatening the Chief, Frank's Fury
When Li En came downstairs, the lobby was packed with people.
Nurses, caregivers, on-duty doctors, and several inpatients in hospital gowns holding IV stands were all crowded around the fire door behind the registration desk.
Their postures were uniform: their bodies were hunched over, and their hands were positioned so they could grab onto something at any moment.
A young nurse was squatting in the corner, holding a telephone to her ear, but her finger didn't press the button.
All the fluorescent lights in the hall were on, illuminating the white floor tiles and making the expressions on everyone's faces clear.
A doctor in a white coat squeezed out of the crowd, his hairline glistening with cold sweat.
He walked quickly to Li En and stopped two steps away.
"Officer, has the terrorist been apprehended? Why haven't the two FBI agents brought him in yet?"
Li En glanced at him.
FBI, those two mercenaries used that identity to clear out the third floor of the hospital building.
No identification is required; simply put the words "FBI" and "terrorist" in the same sentence, and the hospital will cooperate.
He made the information to himself and continued walking.
"Call the police."
"Huh?" The doctor stared at Li En's back, then turned to look at his colleagues behind him.
Aren't you a police officer?
But he didn't ask that question.
The medical staff nearby exchanged glances, and one of them picked up the phone and started dialing the emergency number.
Li En pushed open the glass door of the hospital's main entrance and walked into the parking lot.
The night wind blew in from the direction of the Hudson River, carrying the fishy smell of the river and the acrid smell of something burning somewhere in the distance.
He pulled the car keys out of his pocket—he'd taken them from the two mercenaries.
A small plastic pendant, a membership card for a shooting range, was also hanging on the key ring.
He pressed the unlock button, and the headlights of a black SUV flashed twice.
This hospital is not under the jurisdiction of the Manhattan branch, and he doesn't have time to waste here.
As for driving...
He opened the car door and sat in the driver's seat, his fingers on the steering wheel, without feeling the cold tremor that one feels when standing on the deck of a cruise ship in the harbor.
Actually, he was on edge the whole time when he jumped onto the ambulance in Central Park.
If he senses even the slightest hint of that inexplicable chill, he will jump out of the car immediately to avoid endangering the people inside.
But the ambulance did not explode along the way and arrived at the hospital safely.
During the two hours he sat in the hospital corridor, he repeatedly read and reread the text of the entry for "vehicle killer."
Vehicle Killer – Any vehicle you ride or drive during a mission will explode or be damaged during the mission, except for the Porsche Cayenne.
The key lies in those three words: "task".
Previously, when I went to the port with Brock, I was assigned a mission with the identity of a police officer.
Whether riding a bicycle, waiting in a police car, or boarding a cruise ship at the port, the title effect is triggered.
But when he set up his gun on the apartment roof, he didn't take on any mission; he just wanted to kill the Purple Man on his own. That was a personal act, and protecting Frank afterwards wasn't a mission or job either.
Jessica stayed in the hospital because those who framed Frank almost let his bullet hit her.
His actions at this moment were all driven by some personal reasons—misplaced anger.
He turned the key to start the engine, shifted gears, and stepped on the gas.
The SUV smoothly drove out of the parking lot and turned onto the main street.
The dashboard didn't jump around randomly, there was no smoke coming from the roof, and the chassis didn't make any strange noises along the way.
A black SUV was driving quietly on the night road, the engine speed was stable, and the fuel gauge needle did not move at all.
The car didn't explode.
He rolled down the car window a crack, and the night breeze blew in, diluting the leather smell in the car a little.
The door to the Manhattan Police Department precinct was ajar.
The hinges on the door frame were knocked askew by something, the iron door was half-crooked, and there were dozens of bullet holes in the door panel.
Moonlight leaked through the bullet holes, casting a dense patch of tiny lights on the ground.
The smell of gunpowder hadn't completely dissipated in the air, mixed with the acrid stench of burning gun oil and brick dust drifting from the newly fired bullet holes in the walls.
Occasionally, a sporadic gunshot could be heard from deep within the police station, bouncing twice in the empty hall before fading away.
Li En gripped his pistol tightly, used his shoulder to ram open the crooked iron door, and quickly glanced around the hall.
There was a person behind the pillar on the left, a person next to the fallen filing cabinet on the right, and a figure crouching behind the railing of the second-floor corridor, holding a short stick in his hand.
He pulled back, pressed his back against the door frame, and spent a fraction of a second memorizing the three locations before rushing inside.
He raised his hand and fired a shot towards the left pillar, without even aiming.
boom.
A small cloud of blood mist burst open on the pillar, and the man slid out from behind it, his hand still gripping the gun as he fell, his fingers no longer moving.
He lunged forward, his body flipping in mid-air, his right hand swinging back from under his left armpit, firing another shot that missed its mark.
boom.
The shot hit the person on the right who was raising his gun.
The bullet pierced through the tip of his chin and exited from the back of his head, leaving a dent in the metal surface of the filing cabinet.
As Li En landed, he rolled to the side, knocking over an office chair and squeezing himself behind a row of metal desks.
He braced his shoulder against the table, pointed the gun upwards, and shouted into the depths of the hall.
"Brock! There were only a few of them, I took down two."
"Five! That should be enough!"
Brock's voice came from the direction of the chief's office.
Upon hearing Li En's voice, he loosened his grip on the M16A2 and shouted towards the monitoring room.
"Bright! Are there still enemies?!"
"It's gone!" Bright rushed out of the monitoring room.
His bulletproof helmet was askew to one side, his chin strap was loose, and sweat and dust mixed together on his face, forming a dark gray patch at his temples.
His lips were trembling, and the light in his eyes was pulsating with excitement.
The firefight he just witnessed was the most intense he had ever experienced since becoming a police officer.
The other side consisted of five highly trained combat personnel.
The advancing formation, crossfire, and alternating cover were all executed cleanly and efficiently.
He and Brock survived because they were familiar with every corner and corridor of the police station, and the new bulletproof vests were indeed effective at stopping bullets.
There was also a masked man.
The guy who climbed in through the second-floor window was hit on the back of the head with a short stick, and he fell down with a dull thud.
Bright looked up at the second-floor corridor.
The area behind the railing was empty; the figure wearing a headscarf had vanished sometime during the night.
Li Enzheng stared at the spot where the figure had disappeared.
Matt Murdoch jumped from the second floor.
When landing, the knees are slightly bent, the soles of the feet touch the ground first and then transition to the heels. The shift in weight is completed in an instant, and not much dust is even kicked up.
Li En almost shot him in the head.
"The three people over there are unconscious and won't wake up for the time being."
Matt deliberately lowered his voice.
"You won't kill them, right?"
He tilted his head to the side, his ear facing Li En, the stick still in his hand.
Li En glanced at him and lowered the gun.
"This is a matter for the police. You're a wanted criminal now. For the sake of helping Brock, you'd better leave now."
Matt stood still, his earlobe twitching slightly outwards.
A moment later he turned around and put the short stick back at his waist.
"Officer, they should be punished by law."
After saying that, he ran out the door, his figure quickly swallowed by the night.
Li En walked to the center of the hall.
Both Brock and Bright had bullets embedded in their bulletproof vests.
"Brock, Bright, should we call an ambulance?"
Bright quickly waved his hand, slapped his bulletproof vest, winced in pain, but still smiled and said:
"No, it's just a little sore, some painkillers will do the trick."
"It's alright, it's not worth wasting money on such a small problem," Brock quickly refused.
He leaned the gun against the table, walked over to the three unconscious men, and lightly kicked each of them in the ribs with the tip of his foot.
None of the three reacted; their breathing was steady, and each had a red, swollen patch on the back of their head from being hit with a short stick.
He crouched down and searched one of the men's pockets. Apart from a spare magazine and an unmarked cell phone, there were no identification documents.
"Lock them up first."
When he looked up, he met Li En's eyes, which were very calm.
Having seen that expression before, Brock quickly added a comment.
"There are prisoners watching over there."
Li En turned his head and glanced in the direction of the prison.
The dozen or so people behind the iron bars were all lying on the ground, but their heads were constantly raised, peeking out through the gaps in the bars.
There are more than a dozen people; we can't kill them all.
He turned his gaze away from the prison and squatted down to pick up the handcuffs from the ground.
One handcuffed the unconscious man's left wrist, the other handcuffed his right ankle, then the man stood up, grabbed the back of his collar, and dragged him toward the prison with one hand.
A grown man weighing over 100 pounds was being dragged along like this, his head hitting the seams of the floor tiles with a resounding thud.
The other one was dragged over in the same way.
"Bright, come and lend a hand," Brock called out.
Bright stood there, his eyes wide, watching as Lee En steadily dragged a large man along towards the prison.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Brock shouted again, and only then did he come to his senses. Together with Brock, they dragged the remaining unconscious man into the cell.
Li En closed the iron gate, stood in front of it, and glanced expressionlessly at the people inside who were lying on the ground pretending to be dead.
The backs of those people's necks gleamed slightly under the fluorescent lights—they were sweating profusely.
That gaze pressed down on the back of their heads, like a cold gun barrel against their skin.
No one looked up, no one dared to move.
Li En turned around and walked towards the director's office.
The curtains in the director's office were still drawn, making the room very dark.
He pushed the door open a crack, and the cool white light from the fluorescent lamp cut through the gap, illuminating the corner under the desk.
There was a small figure curled up there.
David looked up, his hat slipping from his eyebrows to the back of his head, revealing a pair of tear-streaked eyes.
Li En squatted down, gently patted his shoulder, and smiled, the corners of his mouth turning to the sides.
"You're very brave. Don't worry, Frank isn't dead."
"Really!" David shouted, springing out from under the table and grabbing Lee's collar tightly with both hands.
Tears began to well up in her eyes, but she didn't cry out.
"Won't he be in danger alone in the hospital?"
"No." Li En straightened up and turned to look in the direction of the police station entrance.
"Because that guy is already at the police station."
"Who?" Bright and Brock simultaneously raised their guns, pointing them at the doorway.
Li En waved his hand.
"Don't be nervous, it's David's father."
A figure walked in from outside the gate.
He was still wearing that light blue hospital gown, the back of which was soaked with cold sweat and stuck to his shoulder blades.
The right pant leg was torn at the calf, revealing a bandage that had already congealed with blood.
His left foot was bare, and the sole of his foot was bleeding from the asphalt road. Blood flowed down from his heel, leaving a row of light red footprints on the police station's floor tiles.
He was holding a Keltec KSG shotgun in his right hand, the muzzle pointing downwards. His fingers, gripping the handle, still had traces of electrode adhesive from the operating room.
He walked in, each step unsteady.
Frank Castle stopped a few steps away from David.
He looked at the boy huddled behind Li En, and his lips moved slightly.
The KSG slipped from his fingers and slammed onto the floor tiles with a dull metallic clang.
"David".
"dad!"
David rushed out from behind Lee, and Frank knelt on one knee, opening his arms to catch him.
David's shoulders were shaking, but Frank remained silent.
His tears rolled down his cheekbones, dripping onto David's hair and into the dust on the police station floor tiles.
Bright stood next to the dispatch desk and wiped his eyes.
He pretended to be adjusting the chin strap of his helmet, unfastening and refastening it repeatedly.
Brock watched this scene and pursed his lips slightly.
He took half a step forward and spoke in a low voice, so low that only Lee and Bright could hear him.
"The Manhattan Police Department cannot protect this family."
Before Lee En could respond, Brock's cell phone rang in his pocket.
He pulled it out and turned it on. The chief's roar exploded from the receiver, so loud that Brett next to him could hear it clearly.
"You lot! Get out of the police station right now!!"
Li En reached out and snatched the phone from Brock's hand, holding it to his ear.
He turned around, his back to Frank and David, and spoke calmly.
"Chief, you must have seen Frank's file by now."
"Li En, what do you mean?" A bad feeling welled up in the director's voice.
"Frank will definitely survive today."
Lee En's gaze fell on Frank, who was holding David and kneeling on one knee.
"This super soldier, who received countless honors, lost both his wife and daughter."
"What will he do next? Let's guess."
There was silence on the other end of the phone.
Li En could hear the director's breathing; each breath was more rapid than the last.
"Get rid of him right now!" the chief roared, his voice cracking with panic.
"This person may be the final straw in the port and warehouse cases, a one-man operation that wipes out the entire gang."
"They're only paying me a pittance, why are they expecting me to work myself to death?"
Lee paused for a moment.
"We helped protect David, so he'll be fine."
"As for others, well, that's hard to say."
He took the phone away from his ear and pressed the hang-up button with his thumb.
The busy signal was cut off before it even started.
Brock looked at him with a mixture of surprise and admiration in his eyes.
He never expected that Lee would describe Frank as the end point and use it to threaten the director.
Based on his understanding of the director, he figured the guy would probably stuff all the cash, his passport, and that box of cigars into his briefcase before dawn, take the first flight out of New York, and never come back.
"pretty."
Li En gently shook her head.
"No, I wasn't lying."
He turned around and looked again at the father and son who were tightly embracing each other in the center of the police station lobby.
Frank's right arm was still wrapped around David's back, and his hand was trembling slightly.
He jumped from the third floor, dragging a bleeding foot, and walked through the streets of Hell's Kitchen in the night to the police station.
He knelt before David, buried his face in his son's hair, and his shoulders began to tremble violently.
It was something that had been suppressed for a long time, something that seemed to be under control, but suddenly burst forth the moment I held my son.
Brock and Bright both looked at the father and son at the same time.
They could sense something burning within Frank's heart-wrenching cries.
……