Ambush

Wesley tossed out a black leather wallet. The sheriff picked it up. He knew it was an ID folder. He flipped it open and was dumbfounded when a badge came into view.

"Homeland Strategic Defense Attack and Logistics Security Bureau, level four agent?" The sheriff was dumbfounded again. What is going on? Why do you, a billionaire, have such an identity? He looked at Wesley in confusion. He wanted to know the answer.

Wesley pointed to his ID. "They can erase my firearms records, but I don't believe they can erase my identity registration. This is an ID registered by the special department of the General Administration, not something that can be erased by the New York Division. So this matter has nothing to do with you. Just wait for the lawyer's letter." Wesley took back his ID and turned to leave.

The sheriff stood rooted to the ground. He had not expected this at all. The other party actually had such an identity. He had heard of this organization before. It was a very mysterious organization. It seemed that the United States government did not have much say. It was a very independent organization.

He was in big trouble. He hurriedly went to make another call. "Hey, he's actually a level-four agent of the Strategic Defense Attack and Logistics Security Bureau. Do you know about this situation? Our police force can't do anything to him."

"I know very well, you don't have to complain, your benefits will not be less. Has he left now? It's a little early…" The person opposite said with some distress.

"What do you mean? What are you going to do?" The sheriff had a bad feeling.

"You don't need to know. Just stay in peace. It's not good for you to know more about us." The sheriff then heard a busy signal. The other party put down the phone, but the sheriff had a bad feeling.

Wesley walked out of the 56th Precinct. "You guys go back first and wait for Phillip. When the time comes, tell him what happened and then sue." The three lawyers left directly, and Wesley looked at the time. It was not very late. It was about seven o'clock in the evening. He thought about the other party's purpose and then drove out of the police station.

Wesley drove home a little cautiously, and nothing happened along the way. He went straight to the door of the parking lot of the apartment. The security guard at the door was a new face. He sat in the security room and glanced at Wesley, then went back to staring at the newspaper in his hand. Wesley looked at him, and then he punched in the card and drove in, but he had taken both guns out and put them on his legs. He drove slowly to his parking space.

After loading the bullets, he asked Apple to send some clips out of his body space and put them in the pockets of his suit. Then, he got out of the car with two guns and his heart began to beat faster. When he entered the door just now, the unfamiliar security guard attracted his attention. A security guard reading the financial newspaper obviously did not match his identity, and at the same time, it was an unfamiliar face.

Wesley paid a lot of attention to the people and things around him during his short experience as an assassin. He had seen all the security guards in the apartment, even if they were new. Was there a coincidence in this world?

There were bound to be coincidences, but at this fixed time and place, all coincidences were just a cover. Wesley got out of the car with his gun and looked around, his ears listening carefully.

Now, his body was several times that of an ordinary person, and so was his hearing. He listened quietly to all the sounds in the underground parking lot. Many heartbeats entered his ears. Wesley knew that these people were lying in wait for him, although they were trying to control their emotions.

Wesley calculated the heartbeats he heard. Fifteen people were around, not counting the security guard at the door, so there had to be at least sixteen people on the other side. But Wesley didn't think there were only so many of them. There had to be more. Otherwise, these people would not be enough for him to kill. How were Carlos and the others?

He took out the phone and still stood beside the car. This place could effectively withstand the attack of bullets. "Hello, are you guys home?"

"Is something wrong? We have gone home. Mindy and Hannah are here. We are cooking together." Carlos felt that Wesley was in trouble.

"It's okay. It's just some small fish. I'm afraid they will harass you," Wesley said indifferently.

"That's good. Do you need me to go?"

"No, just look after the house. But these people are a little bold. I need to teach them a lesson and show them the gap." Wesley put down the phone. Carlos was not worried about Wesley's safety. Wesley was better than him, especially when besieged.

Putting down the phone, Wesley walked directly to the elevator. The other party was obviously lying in wait for the elevator. There was no cover here. A random shot could kill anyone. Of course, that was how they understood it.

Wesley was walking normally, one step at a time, but the two guns in his hands made him look out of place. Suddenly, Wesley's arms began to shake. Two shots rang out, and all the ambushers felt their hearts skip a beat. The other party had not even reached their position. How could someone have fired?

The gunshot was the signal. All the ambushers got up. They were going to attack, but the first to fall was the ambusher closest to Wesley. The bullet bypassed their cover and hit them directly in the head. The circle had a flaw.

Wesley suddenly quickened his pace and ran to the left. He stepped on a sedan on the left and jumped up, his body flying forward in the air. The ambushers below, who were getting up to attack him, could be seen at a glance.

Two shots rang out, and the ambushers began to fall. Wesley calculated silently that there were eight of them now, and he had killed eight of them. His body fell and he hid behind a car. At that moment, gunshots rang out behind him, and assault rifles, submachine guns, and some handguns rained down on him.

The tires of the vehicles covering him were blown up one after another, and the car became shorter. The windows kept shattering, and the bullets hit the body of the car with a crisp clang.

Wesley listened to the enemy's firing position as bullet casings continued to fall to the ground. Ten seconds later, the attack stopped. Crack, crack, crack. They were reloading. Wesley got up in an instant and fired with both guns.

The sound of bullets entering flesh was heard, and then the ambushers began to fall one by one. The bullets were all gone, and Wesley crouched down again, but he moved immediately, crouching and moving, but very fast, reloading as he moved.