The Wolf of Los Angeles

[Chapter 153: Bringing Out the Big Guns]

As the flames engulfed the corpses, the fire doused Camila's heart's burning vengeance.

This was no estate courtyard; it resembled a slaughterhouse!

The roles of butcher and prey flipped upon their entry into the yard.

They held the home-field advantage while lurking in the shadows; hers fought in unfamiliar territory, exposed under harsh light.

Fuming with anger, Camila gritted her teeth, loudly shouting, "Fall back! Let's get out of here!"

She brought her elite unit; she couldn't let them all die here.

She pulled out a smoke grenade and hurled it away.

A cloud of white smoke billowed at the front of the villa.

...

Hawke heard her shout and pinpointed its direction, firing repeatedly.

Then switching to another window, he asked through the earpiece, "What's going on?"

In a fit of excitement, Erica responded jubilantly, "I've taken out five of the eight!"

Hawke replied, "They're trying to run; they set off a smoke grenade; I'm about to bring out the big guns."

"Make sure none of these bastards get away!" Erica was adamant; anyone who dared to infiltrate her home needed to leave in a box.

Hawke picked up the remote and pressed the spray button.

...

From the backyard, someone shouted, "Boss, you need to go! We'll hold them off!"

"Get out of here!" echoed two responses from the front yard.

Camila took care of her men; when push came to shove, people still stood up for her.

Two excited young Mexicans jumped from their hiding spots, one with an AK and the other with an AR, opening fire on the second floor.

Taking advantage of the moment, Camila and her men dashed towards the front entrance.

Strange rumblings echoed from below as dozens of watering heads familiar to stadium grass sprouted up, turning to spray liquid in all directions.

...

Inside the room, Hawke and Erica had already donned their gas masks, ready for what lay ahead.

...

The potent aroma of capsaicin filled the air, causing the two gunmen now shooting to start sneezing violently.

Their exposed skin suffered from irritation, as the liquid scalded them akin to high-temperature burns, making it impossible to hold onto their weapons.

Camila -- inhaling deeply -- caught the odor, and sneezed as she pulled up her black jacket to cover her face and mouth.

Those fools had used biological weapons!

It felt like it was raining and getting louder with the cries of her men.

She dared not reveal her face.

...

In the upstairs bedroom, Hawke stood behind the window, aiming his AR15 equipped with a red dot sight at the fastest runner.

It was clearly a woman, a very fit one.

Yet, to Hawke, she was just an enemy!

When it came to enemies, he had to be as ruthless as winter.

Hawke felt not an ounce of hesitation. Like shooting at a range, he decisively squeezed the trigger, taking aim with ease.

Three shots sounded out, precision striking Camila in the back.

She charged ahead, crumpling to the ground.

This woman had great shooting skills.

But in this entirely asymmetric battle, she didn't even get the chance to unleash her skills.

Hawke reset his aim, systematically taking down a few more that were attempting to flee.

One by one, new bodies crumpled to the ground.

Suddenly, Erica's voice pierced through the chaos in his earpiece, "I'm in trouble; all eight on my side have been taken out! Leave at least one alive!"

Hawke suspected she might be doing it deliberately but had no proof.

However, in the yard, there was still one survivor, rolling around in the capsaicin mist.

Hawke switched off the sprayers, calibrated his breathing, and found his opportunity, hitting the arms and legs of that individual with one shot each.

With his arms and legs blasted apart, even those healed would be half functionally useless.

Hawke's fire fell silence, leaving the villa eerily quiet.

The pungent odor of capsaicin hung heavily in the atmosphere.

Beneath the bright lights, the villa yard lay in shambles -- it was utterly destroyed.

This battle was not so much Hawke and Erica's shooting precision but rather a consequence of their financial power.

They had transformed that space, taking considerable time and effort, not to mention dropping over a hundred grand.

Now, they'd be lucky to restore it to its initial state with several hundreds of thousands in hand.

...

Hawke secured the windows, pulled off the mask, and braved the lingering odor within tolerable limits.

Erica entered from the doorway, pistol and mask in hand.

Seeing she was unharmed relieved Hawke, who said, "I left one alive."

"There were eight in my backyard; I took them all out." The capable detective showed no mercy.

Hawke remained focused, watching the surveillance footage on the computer screen, "I left one; he won't get far."

Outside the villa, the cars remained motionless.

Erica noted, "They're confident; everyone went in thinking they'd definitely take us down."

Hawke scrutinized the footage, then took up his binoculars to survey the corpses strewn across the yard. "It seems they are all of Mexican descent."

His suspicion was piqued: "Could it be the mule gang is retaliating?"

"Possible," Erica speculated as she heard the sound of engines overhead. She quickly pulled out her cell and made a call.

Soon after, Hawke spotted two helicopters approaching from a distance, their bright headlights clearly visible.

Before long, the helicopters hovered above the villa, and a SWAT team began to lower themselves down.

Erica used her phone to communicate, saying, "Friends."

This allowed Hawke to set his AR down and flop back into his chair at his desk.

...

The paramedics that came along with the SWAT team rushed to apply emergency first aid to the one surviving gunman.

That man lay in a gruesome mix of blood and capsaicin, already on the verge of unconsciousness from pain.

Erica proceeded to converse with the LAPD officers on-site, delegating the section outside the house to them.

Just two minutes passed before a fleet of police cars arrived, sirens blaring.

From Erica's initial call to the helicopter's arrival, merely six minutes had elapsed.

However, with Hawke and Erica being strikingly brutal, and the threats posed in the yard, Camila and her men didn't last even five minutes.

Upon LAPD's total involvement, the number of attackers was swiftly calculated to be 21, one female and twenty male, all of Mexican descent.

This lineup included several members of the mule gang on the LAPD's wanted list.

This brief, violent shootout resulted in twenty deaths and one serious injury among the attackers.

The deceased woman was Camila Fernandez, one of the mule gang's three main leaders, known to have close ties with the famous Mexican drug warlord Joaquín Guzmán.

Her deputy, Ayala, was an exemplary case -- having once been a Mexican cop turned dealer -- also fell to the bullets.

Further news filtered in that two community security guards had perished on duty.

...

Twenty minutes later, reporters flocked to the scene, swarming outside the walls, snapping photos for the big story.

The LAPD set up a perimeter around the villa wall.

Earlier, Hawke had installed hidden cameras around the premises; footage from these would be extracted later and handed over to the detectives on-site.

Initial footage was a bit unclear, but it captured the distinct armed intrusions of the culprits who stormed the grounds.

After turning the lights back on, the film became clearer, showing the mule gang armed with AKs, ARs, shotguns, and other weaponry.

...

Suzy, in charge of media and public relations for the LAPD, rushed over from home.

Covering her nose to endure the pungent smell, she walked through the yard littered with shell casings before stepping into the villa.

Seeing Erica unscathed, Suzy visibly relaxed. If an LAPD star officer fell victim to a revenge plot by the mule gang, it would erupt into a public relations disaster.

Then Suzy laid eyes on Hawke.

She scrutinized him and Erica, sensing something didn't quite add up.

Suddenly, it struck her that this pair had been involved in similar shootouts, including the promotional arrest staged by LAPD -- is this beginning to form a pattern?

Her eyes swept back to the scene outside; the bodies, blood, and weaponry gave clear proof of one thing.

These two were ten times deadlier than the thugs!

She checked the surveillance footage and thought they were exceptionally ruthless, turning a once respectable residence into a stronghold.

Fortuitously, this was the case; otherwise, tonight's outcome could have been quite different.

After discussing briefly with the on-site LAPD personnel, Suzy drifted over to Hawke, saying, "Tonight's events make for excellent promotional material..."

Hawke understood her implication and replied, "Let's hold off for now and see what Erica thinks."

Suzy nodded slightly.

...

Just then, Hawke's phone buzzed. He fished it out and answered.

Megan Taylor's voice came through, "I just caught wind of a new story -- heard your girlfriend was attacked by multiple gunmen at home tonight?"

Hawke replied, "I'm right here."

Megan whispered, "Leak a little bit; considering I never meddle in your life."

"Isn't that what we agreed upon?" After a moment's thought, he decided to drop some intel: "Over twenty gunmen armed with automatic firearms initiated the attack, most have been taken down by myself and Erica."

Megan knew Hawke too well. "You must've got footage."

Hawke retorted, "Even if I do, I can't hand it over to you just yet; we'll talk later."

Megan said, "If the video gets traction with a particular media outlet, you better come to me; Fox pays better than all the others."

Hawke confirmed, "Let's see when things are finalized."

He hung up, casting a glance toward Erica.

...

Erica was handing over the weapons they used, along with collected shell casings, to technology colleagues.

Some necessary protocols were bound to unfold.

Brian Ferguson showed up as Erica's relative, entering the villa.

Taken aback by the chaos, he sought out Hawke. "What on earth happened here? Did World War III break out?!"

Hawke recalled the previous words spoken by this nuisance, deciding to pin the blame on him: "You're a jinx; you had to say that Erica and I would face more gun attacks, and look what happened -- over twenty gunmen came after us!"

He framed Brian for the incident. "This whole shootout is on you! You should change your name to Brian the Jinx!"

Such a massive consequence was one Brian did not want to bear. He quickly countered, "How could this be my fault? The Robert Downey Jr. incident? Was that even my doing? The yacht ambush? You two coordinating a strike against the mule gang's stronghold? Was that related to me? The situation in Wyoming -- again, was that me?!"

Hawke wasn't about to let Brian off the hook. "You didn't say anything reckless? Did you not curse... no, I mean, wish for Erica and me to be attacked?"

Brian fell silent, left speechless.

*****

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