Chapter 80
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 80
Chapter Title: Hardening Ground, Fort Roberts (3)
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The assembled police came from all sorts of backgrounds. City cops, DEA agents, ATF officers, SWAT teams, county sheriffs, federal marshals—the mix went on and on, with even a few state park rangers and Department of Fish and Wildlife personnel sprinkled in.
That made it tough to get moving right away. With everyone used to different procedures and tactics, sheer numbers could turn into a liability. They had to pin down roles and routes in advance. That stage alone ate up a ton of time. Which made the command post's situational awareness all the more critical.
Before rolling out, supply officers cracked open the warehouse and handed out gear. Even rushing it, distribution took another half hour.
Winter got a pump-action shotgun loaded with non-lethal rounds and an ammo belt. No need to ditch his regular weapon—just swap as needed. On top of that, he picked up tear gas grenades, a baton, a reinforced plastic riot shield, handcuffs, and the like.
The SWAT commander who'd be moving with him flashed a grin at the boy lieutenant.
"Some rotten weather, huh? But perfect for an op like this. Any noise'll just blow away in the wind."
He had a point. The storm's edge was a churning hell of rain, wind, and thunder. You could barely talk four or five steps apart. Cops had radios, but the Chinese didn't. Given the size of the Chinatown sprawl, it was a plus for the search.
SWAT drew reserve duty. They crammed into the passenger bay of a dark gray BearCat armored vehicle, primed for any sudden trouble.
Even on standby, though, the team was more interested in Winter than any potential firefight. One guy asked,
"Lieutenant. Heard they do military training in Korea from childhood—is that true?"
Winter blinked, not getting it.
"No way. Where'd you hear that?"
"Newspapers, news. Ten-year service, drafts for women, terrorism, nuke tests—a dangerous place, right?"
"That's North Korea. Me and the other Koreans in the refugee zone are all from South Korea. You do know the difference between South and North, right?"
"Oh, so conscription laws vary by state? Makes sense. But then who lives up north?"
"..."
Winter meant separate countries; the guy thought separate regions in one. Classic American mix-up. The U.S. had states split east-west or north-south, each with their own laws. Winter cleared it up.
"Nah, they're different countries. Split by the Cold War—communism vs. capitalism. That's the Korean War. You know about that?"
South and North had divided before the war, but no need to nitpick. The questioner flushed, embarrassed.
"Guess I said something stupid. Sounded plausible, though."
"What did?"
"Your story, Lieutenant. With feats like yours, figures you'd train from kidhood. But nah..."
He looked disappointed. The others burst out laughing. Tension? What tension? They figured no action.
Radio chatter said searches and weapon seizures were going smooth across most sectors. Eavesdropping, Winter caught cops freaking over drug hauls now and then.
[Man, this could addict all of LA.]
One kilo of heroin could dose 30,000 people. Bags of it turning up. Must be what the Chinese dealers grabbed fleeing for their lives.
But it didn't stay quiet forever. Urgent traffic hit the net.
[Command, George 14188, code 10! Contact on 73rd! One officer down! Multiple hostiles with heavy weapons! Pinned! Need backup, over!]
[Code 10 confirmed. David 20, head to 73rd.]
[David 20, copy.]
David was SWAT's call sign. Engine roar spiked. Winter felt the tires spin even inside. The BearCat lumbered into gear.
Team peered through bulletproof glass. But rain poured so hard, streaking water blurred everything. No wipers on the troop bay windows. They switched to firing ports—round covers you could flip open or shut for shooting from inside.
Someone muttered, awe or dismay.
"Damn. Arrows flying everywhere. Seen shootouts, but never like this."
Clang, clang! Stones and arrows pinged off the hull. Aiming for the ports, probably. Useless. Shooters sucked, and wind howled. Projectiles like arrows took a beating from gusts.
Nearing the target, everyone donned gas masks. Storm or not, tear gas worked fine inside tents.
Winter volunteered to exit first on arrival.
Thud!
A rock flew right away; he deflected it with his shield. Stones focused on the disembarking team. He blocked in sequence, clearing a path for the others. A SWAT guy warned,
"Plastic shields might not stop arrows. Careful."
"Yeah. Got it."
Winter advanced a few steps, scanning. The reinforced plastic was fully transparent—no vision block. But not as tough; a strong bow could punch through.
No telling on the quality of those Chinese-made bows or crossbows, but crap build didn't mean crap power.
A whistle sliced the air—trajectory warning.
Thwuk!
Winter sidestepped; the arrow quivered at his feet, half-buried. He raked that direction with fire. No more faces from there.
[Casualty secured. Stable.]
The wounded cop went out on a stretcher.
Then SWAT moved methodically. Shield guy fronts, two behind cover flanks. No blind spots.
Their shields differed from Winter's. Just a small clear rectangle up top for peeking; rest was solid black ballistic plate.
Kwang! The shield bearer staggered. Arrow lodged in the edge. He cursed low. Muddy ground—slippery.
Winter gauged the heavy arrows' frequency.
'One, maybe two real threats.'
The rest? Nothing.
[Drop weapons and surrender! Give up, you won't be killed!]
Warnings amid gunfire. But accuracy sucked more than expected. Rain mist from bursting drops. Plus, thugs used terrain and cover well—ducking between tents, prone on scaffolding.
Cops pushed with shields, vehicles, overwhelming firepower.
Winter shouldered his rifle. Shield angled into the mud, body braced, slight lean for sightline. Then he tilted his head. Weird sight.
The Chinese had wheeled out wooden shield walls. Too bulky to carry, so wheels. Like siege engines from old.
'They'll try anything.'
Winter knelt, aiming under via gap. Bang! Muffled shot cracked ears in wet air. A scream pierced the rain. He kept tagging shoes. Bang, bang, bang! The grand shield halted fast.
Another from the side? Cops smashed it—an armored vehicle rammed. Slowed just before impact, but brutal to the gangs.
Winter pinned the archer threats. Good shots splintered bows; otherwise, shoulders.
No contest from the start. Firepower, armor gap huge; vehicles decided it. Question was suppressing without more casualties.
Winter slung his rifle, yanked the shield free. Mud caked it. He kept it on—liked the weight. Charged the arrow's origin, reverse-tracing. Stones flew. He blocked, dodged, bashed one blocker.
"Gah!"
Wood-cracking vibe up his arms. Mud chunks flew. Four ribs cracked, maybe. Hurt like hell, but survivable.
Another trajectory whine—way off. Winter figured overpowered junk bow.
Spotting the lone boy out front, Chinese thugs surged from cover. Sneaky, seasoned. Cops wouldn't fire with him there. Twisted faces screamed cocky desperation. Some revved slings, others gripped clubs or spears.
They swarmed. Gas mask hid Winter's face.
He grabbed the shotgun one-handed from his belt. Dropped the shield low, laid the gun atop, stable and novel firing stance—shield tip grounded.
Muzzle swung half-turn; clustered thugs scattered in panic. They didn't know non-lethals. Close range, even those could kill.
Two sling stones—Winter's vest caught them. Closest threat: Boom! Shotgun's heavy kick, distinct from rifle. The guy who'd closed to five meters flipped back with a choked groan, clutching his shoulder.
Then a flank spear thrust. Shield parry, close gap, swing shotgun like a club. Loaded weight, diagonal uppercut shattered the thug's jaw. He flailed off-balance. Winter kicked him down, stomped, spun, shield-smashed the shin.
Kek!
Jaw-clutcher convulsed in fresh agony, eyes rolling, foam flecking.
Next thug met full-body shield slam—gut-rattling impact. As he toppled, Winter hooked the shotgun's pump on the shield edge. Body weight racked it. Ka-chunk. At one meter, the guy's face drained white.
Instead of instant fire, Winter circled, using him as shield. Dodgy arrows from two spots—friends blocking their shots. Locked in: Boom! Aimed low-side; leg twisted wrong.
Screeching wail. Two arrows inbound—one missed, one speared the wrong Chinese. Winter stepped to block. Shield swung fist-like met the arrow. Sreee—plastic gouge, white scar, flung away.
Saved thug stared dazed. Winter's gaze spooked him. Groin kick.
Down writhing—insurance kick.
All rushers stalled. Knocked out or broken bones.
Winter eyed the scaffolding. Archer up top panicked—cops closing with shields and batons. Desperate, he jumped. Three stories—no surviving unscathed. Rolled clutching ankle.
Suppression entered endgame. Armored vehicle charged a tent. Easy pickings as collapsing fabric spilled flailing thugs.
The commander paged Winter.
[Lieutenant, need you at 74th, Tent 1.]
============================ Author's Notes ============================
1. I'll think more on the donation account issue. Whether I should even accept it...
2. Forgive the sloppy police radio chatter. Describing it as "Central, 10-30 10-44 to station" would baffle readers and be a pain for me to write... Heh, okay, the second reason's bigger.
LA PD doesn't use standard ten-codes; they've got their own radio procedures. Didn't have the chops to match that. Sorry. Just faked it a bit.
Police phonetics differ from military. For alphabet over radio: Adam(A), Boy(B), Charles(C), David(D)... George(G). When used as unit IDs, they denote affiliation. So George 14188 in the story isn't a name. METRO ANTI-GANG TASK FORCE's unit is G. 14188's the cop's badge number.
If know-it-all readers wanna correct me, I'll fix right away.
3.
Q. Clinen-nim: @It's afternoon here with Winter, but dawn there? Writer-nim lives in another galaxy, huh.
A. Haha... Posted at dawn, you say afternoon Winter? Gotta be antipodal, even equator-wise... Clinen-nim in Brazil now? Whoa, jealous...
Q. Harurulururu-nim: @When's the mass release? 100 chapters?
A. Dunno. Maybe birthday soon? No promises.
Q. CaMo-nim: Hope Winter fights soon.
A. Fights to test my chops? Hold tight a bit longer.
Q. Cheongryunyeon-nim: @Thanks for uploading on rest-day weekend♥ But please mind your health. I want this gem keeping steady schedule, no hiatus from fatigue or illness. Better work conditions mean better work—invest in yourself, writer-nim.
A. Thanks for worrying. I'll stay healthy enough not to die. Maybe sneak in luxury watches sometimes.
Q. Ghozt-nim: @Even lofty pure-heart lifeforms like writer-nim suffer the heat?
A. Pure heart depleted, weakened me. Once had solar-system-mass pure heart; readers stole it all. Near zero now.
Q. Gangcheoluihon-nim: @Now aiming for prologue-written, ending-dreamed rep like Romance of the Three Kingdoms~Yanyi level? Possible? Health first, obvs.
A. No clue what that is, so impossible. Hahaha.
Q. Dohwawon-nim: @Knowing "Gyaak guaak" proves pure-heart lifeforms were once readers...
A. Yep. I dyed you all in pure-heartedness.
Q. Baramui Daehaengja-nim: @Wanna read this forever lol. Pace yourself.
A. Post every 40,000 years, you'll get 4 million+ years worth. Good plan?
Q. Lucidream-nim: @Don't die... If you do, necromancy revive...
A. Writer's respawned once already—skill on cooldown.
Q. Inoino-nim: @Gyaak gyaak guaak gyaak gyaaaaak! (Rest slow, write hard!)
A. · – · · · · – · – · – · – · · – · · · – · · · · · · – · – · – · – · · – · · ( – · – · – · · – · – · – · – · · – · · – – – · · – – – · · · · · · · – – – · · · · · – · – – · – · · – · – · · · · – · – · – · · · · · · – – – · · · – – – · – – – · · – · – · · – · · · · · – – · – – · · · · · – – – · – – – · – – · – – · – – · – – · )
Q. Seno-nim: @Feeling it since Sealbreaker, but story flows so smooth. Protagonist struggles must be planned, right?
A. Yup. That's the pure heart. Sealbreaker too—someone thought gone will pure-heart blast. Daunting to write that far.
Q. Tantania-nim: @This VR-based world. That intro's trashy capitalism reality-fantasy vibe—lighthearted fun lewd vibrant fantasy novel potential? Serious stuff packed, but perfect for upbeat VR take on real life's bitterness.
A. Possible, no plans. Even debating post-Columbarium sequel in same world: Road to Happiness.