Invasion of the United States

"FBI, everyone drop your weapons!" A loud voice came from outside, carrying undeniable authority.

Zhou Qingfeng heard the voice like it was heavenly music. He only had two magazines, which were nowhere near enough for a prolonged high-intensity confrontation.

Moreover, the number of killers outside was unknown. If they decided to set a fire, he would be forced to jump out the window to escape, which would be even more dangerous.

However, the two killers tonight were clearly not ordinary people.

The killer inside the house, despite being shot in the thigh, remained silent, stubbornly trying to fight back; the killer outside the house was even fearless of the FBI's arrival, immediately turning their gun to open fire on the agents.

The arriving FBI agents were only two, clearly not expecting such fierce resistance.

They were forced to flee in a panic, hiding behind their vehicle's engine to barely avoid the killer's fire.

Hearing the gunfire outside, Zhou Qingfeng quickly returned to the second-floor window. He tightened his grip on the M9 pistol in his hand, aiming at the gunman suppressing the FBI agents.

After a few gunshots, the gunman outside fell, and the scene finally quieted down.

The FBI agents hiding behind the car, still shaken, carefully poked their heads out, then quickly retreated.

They hurriedly called for backup while shouting towards the house, "This is Chief Inspector Carl of the FBI Miami Branch. Everyone inside, surrender immediately, drop your weapons, and come out for investigation!"

Zhou Qingfeng responded loudly from the second floor, "I'm Victor. There's still a gunman inside, but he's been shot in the thigh. I'm not sure if he's dead."

Chief Inspector Carl raised his gun slightly, aiming towards the second floor, then exchanged a glance with his partner.

The two drew their high-powered flashlights, covering each other cautiously as they moved towards the house.

Just as they were about to step through the door, a burst of gunfire erupted from behind the door.

The severely wounded and bleeding killer, in a final struggle, fired his gun erratically, riddling the doorframe and walls with bullet holes.

The two FBI agents outside quickly retreated. After the gunfire ceased, they split up and entered the house from the front and back doors of the Congers' house.

The dining room and living room on the first floor were a complete mess.

Shattered chandelier glass lay scattered across the floor, furniture was torn apart by bullets, and the air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and blood.

The killer who had been shot in the thigh still leaned against the sofa, his gun now empty of bullets.

Loss of blood had pushed him into shock and unconsciousness, his face pale as paper, his breathing so weak it was almost undetectable.

Chief Inspector Carl stepped forward and kicked the killer's gun away. After confirming there was no threat on the first floor, he aimed his gun at the second floor, shouting, "Victor, did you fire those shots?"

"Yes," Zhou Qingfeng answered from upstairs, "but it was self-defense. I have no idea who those two downstairs are."

"We'll investigate that," Chief Inspector Carl replied, unusually calm. "Now, drop your gun, raise your hands, and come down to me slowly."

"Are you here to arrest me?" Zhou Qingfeng asked warily.

"I'm here looking for Congers, and to search his house. But you need to come down now, or I can't ensure your safety," Chief Inspector Carl's tone was firm.

On the second floor, Zhou Qingfeng fell silent for a moment, hearing only his own heavy breathing.

He quickly weighed the pros and cons in his mind: continue resisting, or choose to cooperate? Spot an error? Visit the original post on M&VLEMPY&R.

Resisting meant he would have to jump out the window to escape, with too many unknown dangers to follow. And Zhou Qingfeng hadn't broken any laws; he was the victim of the attack.

Cooperating, at least, could ease relations with the FBI, avoiding the police who would soon arrive.

Finally, he took a deep breath and threw his M9 pistol down the stairs, the metal clinking sharply against the wooden floor.

Then, he walked down the stairs step by step, cautiously scanning every corner around him.

The living room lights on the first floor were already on.

Chief Inspector Carl took a few steps forward, his gun still trained on Zhou Qingfeng, his eyes cold and professional.

He signaled for Zhou Qingfeng to stop, then personally searched him thoroughly, from jacket to pant leg, not missing a detail.

Confirming Zhou Qingfeng had no other weapons, Carl nodded slightly and pointed to the living room sofa, coldly saying, "Sit down, don't move."

Zhou Qingfeng didn't resist and obediently walked over to sit by the sofa.

This Chief Inspector's eyes held suppressed anger and confusion, waiting for the right moment to unleash all his questions.

Meanwhile, Carl's partner, another FBI agent, stood by, gripping his phone and reporting to someone:

"We're at the Congers' house, encountered two unidentified gunmen. The suspect family of three is missing.

Victor is still alive, Carl is with me. What...? Got it, I'll help bring the kid back."

The partner's voice was low and urgent, with a hint of inexplicable tension at the end. After hanging up, he glanced between Zhou Qingfeng and Carl, then shifted back half a step.

This movement seemed casual, but the partner casually picked up the M9 Zhou Qingfeng had thrown. The latter naturally focused on this agent.

Carl habitually lifted his shirt, revealing a handgun holstered under his ribs, glaring coldly at Zhou Qingfeng, ready for interrogation.

But the partner had been silent during the call for quite a while, as if receiving some instructions? Carl suspiciously asked, "Whose call was that?"

"It was Deputy Director Shult."

"What's the matter?"

"He said someone made an anonymous call, claiming to have evidence that the kid named Victor is the real culprit in the 'Bar Lottery' case. The Deputy Director wants us to bring the kid back, and also..."

Carl was very surprised, pressing further, "And also what?"

"And also to get rid of you!"

At this moment, things abruptly changed.

Carl's partner suddenly chambered a round in the M9, pointing the gun without hesitation at Carl. A vicious look flashed in his eyes as he pulled the trigger.

Zhou Qingfeng had been watching this partner intently. Hearing him mention the 'anonymous video accusation', he tensed up.

When the partner drew his gun, Zhou Qingfeng sensed danger. He thought the partner was going to execute him, so he ducked and leaped off the sofa.

"Bang!" A gunshot exploded in the living room, making Zhou Qingfeng's eardrums buzz.

Chief Inspector Carl was shot in the head, falling heavily to the ground without a word, like a puppet. Blood slowly oozed from his head, staining the floor red.

Zhou Qingfeng's heart nearly stopped. Why would FBI agents kill each other? Instinct drove him to run in the opposite direction of the gun, darting into the kitchen.

But the kitchen was a closed space with no windows, only a cooking counter in the middle, offering no escape or hiding place.

The partner did not give Zhou Qingfeng any time to think. He followed with his gun, shouting in a deep, icy voice:

"Kid, don't resist in vain. While I'm still not inclined to kill you, come out. We just want the money..."