Livestream Conflict-solver: The Whole Internet Begs Me for Justice!

205: Doctor, let me take you homeIn the dark alley, four people pressed against the brick wall, gasping for breath.

Gunshots, police sirens, and the devilishly catchy, brainwashing song ”Good Days” mixed together from afar, forming an absurd urban symphony.

An Yang was the first to break the silence.

He ripped off his mask, revealing his flushed face, looking so excited he could practically take off.

”Big Brother! That was awesome!” An Yang’s speech was as fast as a Gatling gun. ”Impersonating the FBI, giving reverse orders to the LAPD, and then pulling off a district-wide blackout for a golden cicada shedding its shell maneuver! Holy moly, even Zhuge Liang would have to stay up all night to like, share, and follow you! What is this called? This is ’Cyber Warfare Strategy’!”

Dr. Chen Jing also took off his glasses and carefully wiped the dust from the lenses with a corner of his shirt.

He adjusted his frames and looked at Zhang Ze with the gaze of someone studying an unknown species.

”No,” Dr. Chen Jing calmly stated. ”This is far more complex than impersonation. You paralyzed the entire district’s power grid in a short time. This wasn’t a simple flick of a switch, but a precise electromagnetic pulse attack.

You forged FBI digital credentials that fooled the LAPD’s system verification. You even hacked into their internal communication channel.

This kind of technology... is beyond the scope of any known private military organization. Who exactly are you? The Twelfth Bureau of National Security? Or a unit directly under the legendary ’Red Wall’?”

[Oh, the Doctor is quite knowledgeable.]

[Too bad. We’re just an amateur group, held up entirely by my own massive spending.]

Too lazy to explain, Zhang Ze simply uttered two words in a synthesized voice: ”Follow me.”

Zhang Ze led the three through the labyrinthine alleys. The smell here was worse than the warehouse district; the stench of urine mixed with rotting food made An Yang wrinkle his nose.

Soon, Zhang Ze stopped in front of a wall covered in graffiti. Parked by the corner was a Ford van that looked at least twenty years old.

The body was covered in rust, the tires were flat, and the windows were smeared with bird droppings and dust; it looked ready to fall apart and be scrapped.

An Yang’s face fell.

”Big Brother... we’re not seriously going to drive this, are we? I’m afraid if we turn the ignition, it might just explode on the spot. And can the door even open? I bet it’s welded shut.”

Zhang Ze didn’t speak. He walked to the driver’s side door, raised his hand, and tapped twice into the air near the rusty lock hole.

[Master key, physical form, give me... Never mind, make it data form. I’m afraid I’ll break this crappy lock.]

”Click.”

An almost inaudible unlocking sound rang out, and the car door promptly swung open.

Zhang Ze pulled open the door, and a strong smell of disinfectant rushed out.

Contrary to its dilapidated exterior, the interior was spotless, and the seats even had brand new cushions.

”Get in.”

Chen Hu, without a word, pulled open the side sliding door and ushered Dr. Chen Jing inside. An Yang pinched his nose in disgust and scrambled in too, afraid of getting his expensive tactical suit dirty.

Zhang Ze got into the driver’s seat. Without inserting a key, he pressed an inconspicuous button on the dashboard.

”ROAR—!”

The old engine let out a beastly roar, shaking the entire vehicle violently before it miraculously settled down.

[Products from the System must be high quality. The exterior is for nostalgia, the interior is a beast. V8 engine, bulletproof chassis, satellite communication—it has everything. It’s just that the disguise is a bit excessive.]

Grumbling internally, Zhang Ze skillfully shifted gears and quietly drove the ”scrap car” out of the alley.

The van merged into the traffic on another street. From here, they could clearly see the chaotic scene at the entrance to the warehouse district.

Just then, several blinding white lights sliced through the night sky.

Five black Chevrolet Suburban SUVs, acting aggressively, smashed straight through the outer perimeter set up by the LAPD. After a perfect drift and tail-whip, they stopped in a combat formation right in front of the warehouse entrance.

The doors simultaneously swung open, and over a dozen men, dressed in black tactical gear, wearing helmets, and carrying high-end custom rifles, jumped out.

Their movements were silent and perfectly coordinated, exuding the professional ruthlessness of men who had crawled out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

The patch on every man’s arm bore three striking yellow letters: FBI.

Inside the van, An Yang’s mouth formed an ”O” as he watched the real-time footage transmitted by a micro-drone.

”Holy moly... Big Brother, these guys... they look even more like the FBI than we did!”

”Of course. They’re the genuine article. We’re the cheap knock-offs.”

Zhang Ze rolled his eyes.

In the footage, the white LAPD commander who had previously been so deferential to Zhang Ze scrambled toward the leading FBI agent.

”Agent Johnson! You’re finally here! Your ’Agent Zero’ is truly... quite a character! He’s already taken the witness, and he also conveniently took care of those ’Butcher’ scumbags...”

The leading FBI agent, a Black muscular man nearly two meters tall, pushed him away: ”What Zero? Our operation codename is ’Harp.’ Immediately report the situation on the ground. Who authorized your unit to engage the target?”

The enthusiasm on the commander’s face instantly froze.

His expression went through a philosophical process: from ”claiming credit” to ”confusion,” then to ”horror,” and finally settling on ”Who am I and where am I?”

It took a full three seconds for him to realize he had been played, and his face instantly turned the color of pig liver.

”That bastard... he wasn’t one of yours?! FUCK!!!”

The mournful and furious roar was clearly transmitted through the drone’s microphone into the ears of everyone inside the van.

An Yang couldn’t hold it in anymore. He burst out laughing, then desperately covered his mouth, trembling with laughter and convulsing into a heap in the back seat.

”Big Brother... hahaha... that cop... he’s going to crack! He must be thinking, ’I bled for the FBI, I carried a gun for the FBI, only to find out the FBI was fake!’”

Zhang Ze lightly pressed the accelerator, and the dilapidated van slowly drove away from the scene of trouble, leaving the chaos and commotion completely behind in the night.

Inside the van, silence finally fell.

Dr. Chen Jing, who had been silent the entire time, suddenly spoke.

”Your goal is certainly not as simple as just rescuing me and bringing me home. Lowell, Scavengers, the Butcher Family, Los Angeles Police Department, the Federal Bureau of Investigation... you manipulated all these factions, yet remained completely untouched.”

He turned his head and, through the dim light, looked directly at Zhang Ze’s back.

”Tell me, what is your true objective?”

Zhang Ze did not look back, merely gazing at the glittering night view of Los Angeles ahead.

”Doctor, our goal is very simple.”

”To take you home.”