WWII military commentator? Even a dog could be one.

67. Black Phantoms: The Stunning Debut of Special Weapons and Tactical Units

The Bay of San Pedro remains bustling, but not today because of the merchant ships that have just docked, nor because of any performances.

Instead, it was the intense gunfire around the dock warehouse.

The Irish and Italians fought over bootlegging, but also with the aim of vying for territory.

The Port of Los Angeles has always been a tempting target for the Italians, but unfortunately the Irish are not easy to deal with.

At this moment, the intense gunfire could be heard from several streets away.

Bang bang bang bang!

The noise was intense, and many citizens around were cautiously watching the police officers who had blocked the traffic at the intersection.

"Oh my god, they've started fighting."

"I heard six people died."

"Why didn't the police rush in and deal with them?"

"Because they can't do it, they're not an army."

"God, Los Angeles has become so dangerous, who will protect us?"

"Maybe we should buy a gun."

The citizens were discussing it on the side.

The officers blocking the intersection felt increasingly distressed as they listened. Many of the young officers were driven by a sense of justice, but now they wanted to rush in, only to be stopped by Chief Decker.

"Chief," the patrolling sheriff said, peering inside with difficulty, "What should we do?"

"We only have pistols and a small number of shotguns. Rushing in would result in heavy casualties. Do you want to see your comrades draped in the national flag?"

"No!"

The sheriff kept shaking his head and clenching his fists. Yes, it was frustrating; they couldn't do it.

Deckard gritted his teeth, "These damn bastards."

Several detectives crouched low and rushed out from inside.

Deckard rushed to their side immediately, anxiously asking, "How is it?"

"Both sides deployed twenty people, all of whom were loaded with bullets and could not intervene. We cannot afford to take that much damage. Three of our colleagues have already been injured."

"Damn it!" Deckard slammed his fist into the roof of the car next to him, making a deep thud.

"Are we just going to wait until they run out of bullets?" the sheriff said, frustrated.

"So what do you want? Do you know how many people will die if we go in now?" The detective glared angrily at the patrol sergeant. The two were not in the same system, and neither of them would tolerate the other.

"Are we just going to stand by and watch? Those citizens are pointing fingers at us; they've lost faith in the Los Angeles Police Department."

"What can we do?"

The two argued loudly, their necks red.

"That's enough! Now we can only pin our hopes on Sean Wayne."

"Sean Wayne?" Both of them looked at each other with disbelief. "That critic?"

"Yes, only he can save Los Angeles."

"What?" Hearing Deckard's affirmative answer, the two of them felt as if they had eaten shit.

"Chief, you must be joking, right? It must be a joke. Even if he invented shooting techniques, how is he going to deal with dozens of gangsters inside?"

"Dyke, I know you and Sean are on good terms, but you can't say such outrageous things."

Heh, Deck didn't want to argue with them. "Just wait and see, let's watch a good show."

Having seen those paratroopers, Deck knew that Sean had a group of shooting instructors who were even more elite than the army.

The media and citizens were all waiting outside the block.

Several cars drove into the block, and the police officers who received the order immediately let them go.

Many people stood at a distance, craning their necks to observe.

"Who is that?"

"Sean Wayne".

"What? How did he end up here?" Many citizens looked on curiously.

Then they saw a group of oddly dressed men.

The ten Heidelts were dressed in black combat uniforms and wore masks, revealing only their eyes.

He was wearing a tactical vest made by the Janssen factory, fastened a tactical belt, had grenades hanging from his waist, and carried a Thompson submachine gun with a grip attached to the gun.

The two snipers were holding Springfield rifles with sights attached.

"My God, who are those people? They're armed to the teeth."

"I don't know, it seems to be related to Sean Wayne."

Everyone became interested and watched with excitement.

When he saw Sean arrive, Deckard breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"Hey buddy, you're a bit late. If you'd been any later, you might have had to lay a bouquet of flowers at my grave."

Deckard reached out his hand and walked toward Sean.

The two gave each other a light hug.

"Don't joke around, you still have to help me complete the Bluebird training."

"Haha." Deck laughed as he looked at the group of paratroopers behind him.

I knew they were special.

The other person's attire made him feel a strong sense of pressure.

They are different from soldiers. No, it should be said that today's soldiers are far inferior to them.

Just the fact that they were carrying weapons was terrifying.

These people also had a huge skull symbol embroidered on their shoulders.

My God!

"This is Mr. Sean's shooting range coaching team. My God, are we going to witness their killing spree today?"

"What did you say?"

"You haven't participated in the training yet, so you don't know how terrifying those instructors are. I'm starting to feel sorry for the gangsters inside."

"Really? You must be joking. There are twenty or thirty people fighting inside. Many gangsters have been killed or injured. The intensity inside is far beyond your imagination."

The sheriff and detectives also sized up the strange group of men, feeling a chill run down their spines.

Black uniform, masked man with skull armband, oh my god.

"What kind of weapons are used inside?"

"Most of them are handguns, and some are submachine guns," Deck answered Sean's question.

"Shield."

Hyde nodded and raised his hand.

Number 7 and Number 8 took out two huge metal shields from the car.

There was a glass hole in the shield, and the two men put down their submachine guns and switched to pistols.

"The sniper is looking for a sniping position."

Number 9 and Number 10 exchanged a glance and suddenly laughed. They carried their rifles, lowered their bodies, and slowly approached the combat zone.

"How is it? Can it be resolved?" Deck asked worriedly.

"First, you have to give me a standard."

Sean took out a cigarette from his pocket, pulled one out, and tapped it on the cigarette pack.

"What do you mean?"

"To arrest or to kill?"

After saying that, Sean put the cigarette in his mouth.

"Do whatever you want. All I feel right now is anger towards these guys," Deck said viciously.

Sean suddenly laughed, turned to look at Heidett, and said, "Chief Decker is asking if you have confidence?"

Heidel gave a thumbs-up and then turned it upside down.

"When you go in later, you won't see any living creatures."

Pop! Sean lit a cigarette, took a drag, and smiled at Deckard, tilting his head slightly.

He appeared unusually confident.

"This is the answer you've been looking for."

My God.

All the officers around were stunned.

Seriously? There are also thirty gang members.

The sheriff looked at Sean in surprise, while the detective didn't know what to say, only observing the group of paratroopers back and forth.

"Alright, buddy, as the highest-ranking commander on the scene, I order you to take them out." Deck laughed as well, snatched Sean's cigarette case, and pulled out a cigarette.

Heidel turned to Sean, his meaning clear: your orders are useless.

"Don't keep me waiting too long."

"Yes, sir, look forward to it. We will prove our worth with our actions."

"Go, let those gangsters experience blood and death."

"Your will will be revealed."