xymnovel 68. Shawn Wayne, the founder of SWAT .
68. Shawn Wayne, the founder of SWAT .
Heidel nodded to the crowd.
Without any instructions, the paratroopers, who had been training together, instantly lined up in two rows and hid behind their shields.
"Proceed!"
Watching the two teams approach the battle zone.
Deckard and the others were on tenterhooks.
"What are they?"
Deck asked the question that had been on his mind.
"Special Weapons and Tactical Forces, SWAT! You can also call them Tactical Intervention Groups."
"Special weapons and tactical units?" Deck asked, his mouth agape in surprise.
My God, I was right. From the first moment I saw this group of people, I felt they were very strange. They didn't look like coaches at all.
It's the military.
They are a very special unit!
"Yes." Sean exhaled smoke, looking relaxed into the distance. "They use all sorts of weapons to deal with different environments. They carry different weapons, from submachine guns and rifles to machine guns, anything that can be used for self-defense."
Tactical units are what you see at the firing range.
They underwent long and rigorous training, mastering all aspects of the sport, from teamwork and various tactics, including infiltration and parachuting, diving, shooting, hand-to-hand combat, and demolition.
My God.
Deck had also served in the military, but he had never seen a soldier like this before.
No, they should be called killing machines.
"I know, I've seen them, they're very capable."
"No, that's far from enough." Next, they need to train in combat, daggers, and Sean even plans to create flying squirrel suits, since most of these people aren't good at diving either.
Unfortunately, current communication and logistical support are too poor; otherwise, adding drones would make it even more perfect.
These guys aren't just guinea pigs, they're their own black ops team.
Who says critics can only be gentle rabbits? I can also persuade others using physical methods.
"Not enough? Did I hear that right? I must have misheard. This isn't enough? Good heavens." Deck couldn't understand what Sean was thinking. They were already doing really well.
Two snipers found their position, each wearing several silencers.
Take one out and slowly screw it on.
"Matthias Heitsenor, how do we fight?"
Number 9 glanced at his teammate and said worriedly, "I'll go left, you go right. Hey, Sepp Allergberg, don't die. I still have a lot of sniping techniques to teach you."
Number 10 gave a thumbs up, "No need to worry about dealing with them." The first sniper on the Eastern Front in history answered confidently.
Then the two hid behind a flower bed by the roadside and quietly observed the situation at the warehouse not far away.
They were searching for men armed with submachine guns.
The two snipers aimed at their target and pulled the triggers without hesitation.
puff puff!
The two gangsters who were shooting at each other suddenly turned their heads, and the bullets instantly pierced their skulls, splattering blood all around them.
What's going on?
"Damn it, they might have an ambush."
The gang leaders on both sides shouted, "Kill them!"
puff puff!
Two more gang members wielding Thompson submachine guns were shot in the chest.
After firing two shots, the two snipers lowered their bodies, picked up their weapons, and moved to another location.
"They have an ambush over there."
Hearing a gunshot behind them, Number 9 and Number 10 couldn't help but laugh.
"A bunch of newbies."
The gunfire inside gradually subsided, and Heidel waved his arm.
The two shields instantly slashed into the battlefield.
"Damn it, what's that?"
A gangster screamed and instinctively raised his hand to pull the trigger.
boom!
The shield made a crisp clanging sound.
Then came a continuous thumping sound.
"My God, they have shields, who are they?"
Both gangs looked completely bewildered.
Several grenades flew over the shield.
Seeing what was on the ground, the gang members completely lost their composure.
Who the hell uses this in a shootout?
They lack martial ethics.
Boom! A series of explosions rang out, and the Irish scattered in all directions, fearing they would be caught in the blast wave of grenades.
While the enemy was still in shock, Heidel and his men instantly flashed out with shields and assault rifles.
Bang bang bang bang bang bang bang.
Intense gunfire erupted again in the combat zone.
Hearing the commotion outside, Deckard's hand holding the cigarette trembled slightly, and he even used a grenade.
Sean had originally planned to bring Browning along, but felt it wasn't necessary to deal with a group of gangsters.
Soon the gunfire inside became less and less frequent, and shouts could even be heard.
"I surrender. Please, I surrender."
Seeing the Italians lay down their weapons, Heidel smiled beneath his mask. "I'm sorry, I didn't receive such an order from Mr. Sean. I'm very sorry."
He decisively raised the muzzle of his gun and pulled the trigger.
Bang bang bang!
Three bullets pierced the man's face, and he fell backward, his eyes filled with fear and panic.
Seeing the Italians riddled with bloody holes, Heidel led his men into the warehouse.
Half an hour later, Heidett emerged from the warehouse with his men, and the surrounding police immediately swarmed in.
"Hey guys." One of the officers gave Heidett and the others a thumbs up.
"You guys are amazing."
Such praise is boring for a group of paratroopers. Don't they think they can handle a bunch of battlefield novices?
As people walked out, the surrounding citizens suddenly realized that the gunfire inside had stopped.
Deck had a smile on his face.
"Haha, Heidel, is anyone hurt?"
"No," the paratrooper captain replied indifferently to Deckard's question.
He quietly walked up to Sean.
"Report, all taken care of. Number 7 and Number 8 have minor injuries to their arms, but they won't need long-term treatment; they should be able to return to training in a week at most."
Well, the shield is still a bit lacking; it doesn't disperse the impact force enough.
"Go back now, rest today. You're given a day off to take your families and have some fun. Each of you will receive a reward of two hundred dollars."
"Thank you, boss."
A group of paratroopers excitedly walked towards the car.
Watching Sean and Deckard walk out of the restricted area side by side.
Citizens and reporters nearby flocked forward out of curiosity.
"Chief Deckard, what happened?"
"How are those gangsters doing?"
Deckard walked up to the reporters with a smile on his face. "Today, the Los Angeles Police Department successfully killed a group of desperate criminals who were causing chaos in the city."
Killed?
God!
The reporters' faces lit up as they raised their notebooks to take notes of what Deck had to say.
"Chief, who are those people?"
Deck glanced back at the paratrooper.
"That was a collaborative project between the Los Angeles Police Department and Mr. Sean Wayne's Obsidian Company."
Sean Wayne?
It's him again.
Reporters are like a swarm of sharks that have smelled blood.
"What is your relationship with Mr. Sean?"
"This is an experimental project between the Los Angeles Police Department and Obsidian Entertainment, a special weapons and tactics unit whose role is to solve difficult cases in Los Angeles."
Our Los Angeles Police Department is committed to advancing a better plan to protect our citizens.
SWAT (Special Police Force)
The founder of this special unit was Mr. Sean Wayne.
Oh My God.
Special weapons and tactical units?
Sean Wayne?
So, does that mean Sean Wayne is more than just a military commentator?
Sean couldn't help but laugh as he listened to Deckard's words.
When will we have a project?
Are you planning to outsource this?
"So, Mr. Sean and his special tactics unit saved Los Angeles?"
Deckard chuckled softly; after all, the Los Angeles Police Department simply couldn't handle it.
However, being tied to Sean might allow them to form their own team in the future.
He had a long-term vision and didn't mind that Sean was stealing the spotlight for the moment.
"Yes, Sean Wayne is the guardian of Los Angeles."
My God.
Legendary critic Sean Wayne, who had been silent for a few days, has once again dropped a bombshell.
"Hahaha." Upon hearing the report from the reporter on the front lines, the Los Angeles Times' editor-in-chief's office erupted in the maniacal laughter of an evil businessman.
"Give me all the front pages tomorrow, Sean Wayne, he's made history again, the guardian of Los Angeles, no, he's the hero of Los Angeles, America's own hero."