Invasion of the United States

The officer in the co-driver's seat had long gripped the AR-15 assault rifle in his hands, his finger resting on the trigger guard, his eyes filled with a thirst for battle.

In his heart, he calculated that as soon as the car door opened, he would charge out, ready to fight three hundred rounds with those who dared to ambush the Governor of the United States, eager to make his mark.

This was a nationwide event under much attention; showing a little bravery and decisiveness here would surely earn wide acclaim afterward—promotion, salary raise, and marrying a 'white, rich, and beautiful' spouse would no longer be a dream.

However, before the car door could be pushed open, the co-driver's gaze froze.

A tall figure in a black trench coat and a pantyhose mask was walking from behind the heavy truck, cradling an M2 heavy machine gun.

The dark muzzle of the gun seemed like the eyes of death, staring coldly at them.

"Reverse! Reverse! Quick, reverse!" The co-driver's soul nearly left his body as he screamed at the top of his lungs.

The officer driving was also terrified out of his wits; all thoughts of bravery vanished as he hastily put the car into reverse and floored the accelerator.

The police car took off like a frightened rabbit, retreating as quickly as it had come.

"Heavy machine gun! The attacker has a heavy machine gun! Repeat, he has a heavy machine gun!" The officer shouted hoarsely over the radio.

The other police cars, annoyed at arriving too late to make a grand entrance, immediately turned around and scrambled to flee upon hearing the warning.

The opportunity to rescue the Governor was left to others. What had been a high-spirited encirclement turned into a farcical retreat.

Under the watchful eyes of the nationwide audience, the performance of these police cars was a "textbook-level retreat."

The red and blue police lights flashed in the night, no longer a symbol of justice, but a mark of hasty flight.

As the police cars left, Zhou Qingfeng didn't waste any ammo and turned the muzzle of the M2 heavy machine gun slowly upward, aiming at the sky.

In the sky, a police helicopter circled, the strong light from its searchlight piercing the ground like a sword, flaunting its air superiority.

The helicopter pilot, who had been feeling smug, thinking that ground targets couldn't touch him, turned pale when he saw the muzzle of the heavy machine gun aiming at the searchlight.

"Turn off the light! Turn off the light!" The pilot shouted at his colleague, while yanking the control stick.

Like a startled bird, the police helicopter flew several hundred meters away in one breath, only slowing down when confirming it was at a safe distance.

In contrast, the two helicopters filming for the media seemed "recklessly bold."

They quickly ascended, increasing their altitude from the ground, yet the onboard cameras remained trained on Zhou Qingfeng, capturing his every move.

For these media people, nothing attracted viewers' eyes more than a thrilling live broadcast, nothing could double their bank accounts quicker.

Despite the risk, they refused to leave, determined to record every detail of this deadly chase.

In the live broadcast, viewers across the nation felt that the figure of the hunter appeared especially solitary and unrestrained in the night.

He seemed like a hunter in control of the entire situation, while everything around him—the police cars, helicopters, even the retreating National Guard—were merely his prey.

-------------

At this moment, the Special Forces captain in the 'Lincoln' had just recovered from the disorientation of the crash.

He had held onto a sliver of hope, counting on reinforcements to arrive in time, and on the sturdy bulletproof car to be their final lifesaving fortress.

When he saw the masked hunter approaching with the M2 heavy machine gun through the cracked window, an overwhelming sense of despair flooded his heart.

The bulletproof car was not a tank, even if it could withstand handgun and rifle bullets, it was as fragile as paper against heavy machine-gun rounds.

What's more, the attacker had brought an entire box of ammo, enough to turn this car into a sieve. Cold sweat beaded on the captain's forehead; he knew that waiting would only lead to death.

Driven by desperation, he decided to go for it. Rather than waiting for death, it was better to actively seek a way out.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the damaged car door, threw out his sidearm, and then stumbled out of the car with his hands raised high, shouting in a trembling voice:

"We surrender! We can be hostages! We'll cooperate with your every move and meet any of your demands! Don't kill... please don't kill!"

Zhou Qingfeng did not respond, only gazed coldly at him, the M2 heavy machine gun in his hands lacking a stock, requiring his body to brace it once loaded. Co+n$te*nt^ s&our.ce@d% fr%o&m^ MV4LE+M*PY^R – My Vi.r&tu*al Lib.ra!ry E#m#pi@re.

He stopped seven or eight meters from the 'Lincoln,' stood in a stable stance, and held the machine gun firmly, the muzzle pointed directly at the target, like an unshakable statue.

After the Special Forces captain got out of the car, Zhou Qingfeng's gaze moved past him, landing on the other side of the back seat.

Ellison Parker sat slumped in his seat, his face covered in blood from the crash of the airbags.

His eyes vacant, he slowly turned his head, staring blankly at Zhou Qingfeng outside the car, at the dark muzzle of the gun, his face full of bewilderment.

As he sensed death approaching, he mumbled: "Who is this guy?"

"My respects to you, Ellison Parker. For your 'past' glory..."

Zhou Qingfeng ignored the Special Forces captain's pleas and instead offered his final whisper to his target. His finger pressed the D-shaped trigger at the back of the M2 heavy machine gun.