Police in America

"Hey, Terry, when you get out, FBI Agent Hannah will want to ask you a few questions. She's interested in learning about your work here." Jack called out to Terry, who was about to leave.

Noticing Terry's nervous expression, Jack smiled and added, "If you're worried, how about I offer you a job later that pays over $20 an hour?"

With Terry suddenly revitalized and sent on his way, Jack and Hondo exchanged greetings with the LAPD officers who had entered through the fire escape and security door. The four of them quickly headed back.

With the "One-Nine Gang" taken care of, there was no longer any organized resistance in Zone A. 

Wearing full armor, armed with batons, and equipped with tear gas and stun grenades, the LAPD officers only needed to advance steadily from cell to cell to deal with the remaining scattered prisoners.

As they were about to reach the connection between Zones A and B, the LAPD officers who had cleared the stairs from the third floor had already reached the fourth floor.

Nothing unexpected happened. The three SWAT team members guarding the area were safe and sound, though there were a few prisoner corpses near the corner.

"Command, Alpha Team is ready to enter Zone B."

"Copy that, Alpha Team. Bravo Team is in position and preparing to enter."

Hondo's stern expression softened slightly. With two SWAT teams working together, they weren't as short on manpower.

"We need to clear Zone B quickly. We don't know what Gunnar Cade is planning, and the longer we take, the worse it'll be for us."

Just as Hondo was about to lead the team forward, Jack stopped him.

"Hondo, I have a suggestion."

"It's time to split into two teams. Deacon and I can take two people to find those construction workers. You can head to Zone C and meet up with Bravo Team on the way."

Hondo paused, thought for a moment, and then made a decisive call, "Chris, Street, you're with Deacon and Jack. Stay safe."

He then patted Jack on the shoulder, "I'll have them buy a few Starbucks coffees waiting outside."

"That was just a coincidence," Jack rolled his eyes.

Back during the mall shooting incident, Jack had left soon after being escorted out by Tim and the others. The SWAT team had arrived later and, after measuring the 41-meter shooting distance, Hondo had personally called Jack.

As the saying goes, "Reputation precedes a person." The SWAT team's willingness to let Jack participate in such a high-risk operation wasn't without reason—no one wanted to be held back.

Time was of the essence. As soon as they entered Zone B, the team split in two. Jack's group moved forward, while Hondo led Luca and the Asian-faced Tan into the passage to Zone C.

——

The prisoners in Zone B were visibly more muscular than the Black guys in Zone A. The behavior of the "Baja Triceratops Gang" was also much more brutal. As Jack's team passed several cells, they encountered no fewer than ten corpses left behind from in-fighting.

"Up ahead is the prison infirmary. It was probably the first place attacked when the riot started," Deacon said as he forcefully tied up a guy who was still struggling.

"A lot of these guys are junkies. They'll head straight here for drugs, so be careful when we go in."

The white brute beneath his knee stopped struggling when he heard this and began cursing angrily.

"There ain't no damn infirmary in this shitty prison! There's a pharmacy in Zone C, but it's already been cleaned out by those 'Hot Eagle' bastards."

Everyone paused at his words. The map indicated there were at least two connected halls ahead, marked as an infirmary, complete with detailed drawings of hospital beds.

"Let's check it out." The four of them split into two pairs, taking positions by the door, with Jack and Deacon on the right, and Street and Chris on the left.

Deacon twisted the door handle, and the pairs kept to the walls as they cautiously advanced into the room.

"Left side, clear."

"Right side, clear."

"What the hell?" Chris said, puzzled by the rows of electric sewing machines filling the hall.

"It's a prison factory. They've converted the infirmary and patient rooms into a bulletproof vest manufacturing workshop." Jack picked up a piece of Kevlar fabric from a table, shaking it out to reveal a half-finished bulletproof vest.

"This must be the place those guys were talking about—the one where they work seven days a week."

Deacon let out a derisive snort. "Now I understand how those capitalist scum make money running a prison. They turn prisoners into free labor for making bulletproof vests."

Jack pulled out his phone to record everything he saw. While the SWAT team's chest cams were already recording live footage, having a backup certainly couldn't hurt.

He didn't particularly sympathize with the prisoners being exploited as sweatshop labor, but the fact that this hard-earned money was lining private pockets really pissed him off.

The ones orchestrating the riot were undoubtedly the main culprits, but the capitalists exploiting the prisoners so ruthlessly were even worse.

Jack had been having a perfectly good nap, dreaming sweet dreams, when this prison riot trapped Hotchner and Reid inside, forcing him to come and clean up the mess for these capitalist scumbags. He couldn't be more annoyed.

Whether or not the LAPD took action, Jack wouldn't hesitate to take these recordings to Channel 8's anchor, Taylor Kelly, over dinner.

Of course, the recordings alone wouldn't be enough. Terry, the prison guard, was also part of his backup plan. With no training, he was thrown into the job with a meager wage of $11 an hour.

His testimony would be enough to give the prison contractor, Ash Jones, a real headache.

"Shhh..." Jack suddenly heard faint noises from the next room and signaled everyone to be cautious.

The three SWAT members quickly took cover behind the room's load-bearing columns, their guns aimed at the door leading to the adjacent room.

"Gun!" Chris's sharp voice rang out as a prisoner armed with a shotgun suddenly appeared in the doorway. Gunfire erupted almost simultaneously from both sides.

At a distance of four or five meters, and with four rifles firing at once, the shotgun-wielding guy, even though he was wearing several layers of bulletproof vests, was turned into a sieve after firing just one shot.

"Bang! Bang!" His two accomplices didn't dare show themselves, blindly firing a few shots into the room before grabbing the dropped shotgun and fleeing.

"Move, move, move!" Deacon led the way, with Jack close behind. The four of them formed a line and pursued the fleeing prisoners.

The next room was much more cramped compared to the previous one, filled with various large washing and drying machines, likely used for processing the finished bulletproof vests.

"Careful, there are hostages."

Whether it was because they advanced too quickly or because the "Baja Triceratops Gang" members were too panicked, the prisoners didn't have time to use the hostages as human shields, instead fleeing to the farthest corner of the room.

Eight construction workers, tied up and bundled like mummies, were secured under a stainless steel workbench near the entrance. Seeing the SWAT team burst in, they began to make muffled noises of relief.

"Get them out of here."

Deacon and Jack moved forward, keeping the hostages behind them, while Chris and Street pulled out knives to cut the ropes binding them. They pressed the workers' heads down and quickly herded them back into the previous room.

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