17: That wasn't a rescue, that was suicide.

Ricardo, a Police Commander from the Chicago Police Department, was leading the Second Echelon, rushing toward Mellon Bank like a madman.

Veins were throbbing on his forehead, and his fingers gripping the steering wheel were white from excessive force.

"Hurry up, all of you! Hurry! Those bastards aren't getting away!"

His walkie-talkie was filled with static and the dying wails of the police officers from the First Echelon.

Just then, flames shot up into the sky from the intersection ahead.

Ricardo watched helplessly as Antonio's lead patrol car was violently flipped into the air by a brutal force, tumbling before crashing down.

"No!"

Ricardo's eyes were splitting with rage.

Before he could recover from this shocking sight.

"Boom!"

The already deformed police car underwent a fierce secondary explosion due to fuel leakage.

A massive fireball erupted, coloring everything around it orange-red.

The final screams of Antonio and Mario inside the car were completely swallowed by the deafening blast, leaving no trace behind.

"Boss! We can't get through!"

"Stop the car!"

The police cars behind slammed on their brakes, their tires screeching harshly on the pavement.

"Save them! Hurry and save them!" a young officer yelled, reaching for the car door.

"Get back here! Do you want to die, you idiot!"

Ricardo yanked him back, his eyes bloodshot as he stared at the burning inferno.

He knew the people inside were beyond saving.

That wasn't rescue, that was suicide.

"You two, stay here, set up the perimeter, and evacuate the civilians! The rest of you, follow me, we'll take the side road around!"

Gritting his teeth, Ricardo issued the hardest command of his life.

He could not stop.

His duty was to get to the bank and stop the robbers, not stand here and watch his comrades be burned alive into charcoal.

The remaining three police cars immediately turned their heads and sped into a narrow alleyway beside them.

However, this was not a shortcut to hope.

It was another layer leading to hell.

Just as the police cars drove into the center of the alley.

"Da-da-da-da-da-da!"

From the windows of the apartment buildings lining the alley, several intersecting streams of fire erupted simultaneously!

This was a death trap that had been laid out long ago.

A dense curtain of bullets instantly enveloped the three police cars.

The bullets hammered maniacally against the car bodies like furious hail.

The car windows instantly fragmented into spiderweb cracks, then completely shattered.

Bullets penetrated the flimsy car doors, ricocheting wildly inside the cramped cabin, tearing through flesh and bone.

"Enemy attack!!"

"We are..."

Before an officer could finish his sentence, a bullet accurately peeled back the top of his skull, splattering red and white matter all over the front windshield.

Ricardo's car was the last one; the driver reacted swiftly, sharply turning the wheel, attempting to use the car body for cover.

But everything was futile.

Bullets easily blew out the tires and pierced the engine.

The police car crashed uncontrollably into the wall and died completely.

The officers inside were dazed by the impact, and before they could raise their guns to fight back, the deadly barrage caught up to them.

Ricardo could only hear the terrifying thuds of bullets piercing metal and flesh, mixed with the short, desperate screams of his comrades.

Blood quickly flowed out from the gaps in the car windows, pooling into small puddles on the filthy ground.

The entire road was stained red with blood.

Inside Mellon Bank.

Alberto glanced at the tactical watch on his wrist.

Five minutes, not a second off.

He raised his head, his icy gaze sweeping over his comrades who had already filled their money bags.

"Time's up."

His voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable command.

"Withdraw."

After speaking, he turned around, pointing his gun at the bank manager who was slumped on the floor, still trembling incessantly.

The manager's eyes were full of pleading and terror.

Alberto made no unnecessary movements.

"Bang!"

A muffled gunshot.

A bullet hole appeared on the manager's forehead; his body twitched twice, then fell completely still.

Having done all this, Alberto's gaze shifted to the female employees huddled together and trembling behind the counter.

A flicker of disgust crossed his eyes.

Someone among this group had pressed the alarm, causing them unnecessary trouble.

Who was it? It no longer mattered.

Alberto raised the rifle in his hand.

"Ah!"

The female employees screamed in despair.

"Da-da-da!"

A brief, rapid burst of gunfire.

Alberto didn't do it to silence witnesses; purely, it was to vent his frustration over the disrupted plan.

He didn't even bother to look at the result, turning directly away.

"Let's go."

Several Death Sworn picked up the heavy money bags, followed him expressionlessly, and quickly disappeared into the night through the bank's back door.

Meanwhile, a few kilometers away in the Logan Square District, at the entrance of Union Bank.

The battle here was even more brutal than at Mellon Bank.

The Third Robbery Team led by Francisco encountered the first wave of police who rushed to the scene after hearing the news.

But they didn't pay any attention to the police.

"Boom!"

A grenade was accurately thrown underneath a police car.

In the violent explosion, the entire police car was blasted into the air, tumbling down and smashing into another police vehicle.

"Snipers in position! Take out their firing points for me!"

Francisco leaned behind a pillar, calmly issuing instructions via radio.

"Received."

On the rooftop of a distant building, a sniper adjusted his scope.

He locked onto the police officer who was hiding behind a car door, desperately returning fire with a pistol.

"Pfft."

A faint sound.

The officer's head exploded instantly, like a shattered watermelon.

The surrounding police officers completely broke down.

"Oh! My God!"

"We can't hold them! Requesting heavy fire support!"

"They have snipers! We are pinned down!"

Francisco listened to the chaotic police communication coming through his headset, a cruel smile curling his lips.

"Play with them a bit longer, then prepare to withdraw."

When more police forces, including the SWAT Team, rushed roaring to the three crime scenes.

All they saw was utter chaos.

Burning police car wreckage, spent casings scattered everywhere, and... the incomplete corpses of their colleagues.

The robbers had long vanished without a trace, taking hundreds of millions of US dollars and leaving behind a battered Chicago.

Three major armed bank robberies in one day.

Dozens of police officers were killed or injured, fifteen police cars were completely destroyed, and nearly a hundred innocent civilians were wounded in the crossfire.

This became the most heinous and largest-scale robbery case in the history of Chicago, and even the entire Eagle Country.

That night, major Yingjiang television stations interrupted all normal programming to urgently broadcast this news.

Chicago became famous overnight.

"We express our strongest condemnation! The Chicago Police Department will spare no expense regarding these vicious criminals."

"We will use all resources to bring them to justice! I assure all citizens that justice will prevail!"

On the giant screen TV in a luxury apartment, Fernan, the newly appointed Chicago Police Chief, was giving a solemn speech to the camera.

His expression was mournful, and his words were sincere.

Unfortunately, the audience sitting on the sofa was unconvinced.

David, sitting with his legs crossed and swirling a glass of red wine, chuckled as he watched the spittle-flying Police Chief on television.

"Bring them to justice? Heh, that line is too cliché, isn't it? Can't they come up with something new?"

He picked up the remote and casually turned off the TV.

The whole world instantly fell silent.

"Boss."

His Bodyguard Captain, Juan, silently appeared behind him, like a silent mountain.

"Speak, my accountant."

David turned around, a relaxed and cheerful smile on his face, "How did we do on our KPI today? How much pocket money did we earn?"

Juan's expression remained neutral, though his tone carried a subtle, almost imperceptible fluctuation.

"The three teams collectively stole 152 million US dollars in cash. The remaining small amounts are still being tallied."

"152 million?"

David's eyes lit up instantly.

He leaped up from the sofa, rubbing his hands together excitedly.

"Holy crap! That's amazing! These guys really didn't disappoint me! That performance is top-notch!"

He paced back and forth twice, unable to hide the joy on his face.

"We've pretty much cleared this map, Chicago. If we stay any longer, the BOSS will go berserk."

David snapped his fingers, his eyes full of calculation and excitement.

"Pass the word down, everyone is to evacuate in batches. Next stop, the West Coast, San Francisco!"

"Let those guys also experience what is called the mysterious power from the East!"

He raised his glass and drained the red wine in one gulp.

"Oh, right, Juan."

David called out to Juan, who was about to turn and leave.

"As per the usual rules, wash this money for me as quickly as possible. I want to see clean figures appear in my account."

"Also, dispose of all the gear we used this time, especially those RPGs. Don't leave a single loose end."

"Understood."

Juan nodded, his figure merging into the shadows once more.