"Whether he could make it to the hospital would depend on his luck," Jimmy said, "Drop the guns, no one moves. Cuff them." Only after confirming that they were no longer reaching for their weapons did he speak, and Ruiz followed behind, helping Jimmy pull two people off the bed and cuff their hands behind their back with zip ties.

"No one's in the kitchen," said an agent who had gone to check the kitchen, and immediately turned to head towards the stairs to coordinate with another agent on monitoring the staircase.

Jimmy and Ruiz dragged the two handcuffed individuals to the living room, both of whom were still wailing from gunshot wounds.

After reloading his Python, Jimmy looked up to the second floor. Continuous gunfire had turned the second floor chaotic, with many people emerging from various rooms, far exceeding the eleven or twelve reported by intelligence. Well, they couldn't be blamed—it seemed some people just never left this place.

"Cover me," Jimmy said as he stepped past two agents and walked up the stairs. The people in the rooms had heard the gunfire and Jimmy's shouts of "FBI," so they stayed hunkered down inside their rooms, with no one appearing at the staircase entrance to keep guard. It was unclear whether they were unaware that this was the only entry point to the second floor or they were simply too scared to come out.

Emerging from the stairs, Jimmy first checked the corridor and the rooms. There was someone at the door of a distant room aiming at the staircase, but with no lights on, as long as they didn't have night vision, they couldn't see Jimmy's movements. He took aim at the exposed head and fired a shot, then quickly moved up the stairs to the side of the first room's door.

Ruiz and two other agents also charged up, not in a single file but in two lines, each aiming at different rooms. Everything within the reach of their headlamps was under surveillance.

Seeing Ruiz and the others in position, Jimmy shouted, "FBI! Search warrant, everyone down, don't move." He then kicked the door and immediately took cover beside it—the walls were brick and solid enough to withstand bullets from handguns.

As soon as the people inside heard the door being kicked in, they began shooting at it. When there was a short pause, Jimmy quickly stepped out and took down two with his shots. One had been hiding behind a single-person sofa, but, unfortunately, this couch offered little protection against his .357 Magnum.

Jimmy shone his flashlight around the room briefly, then turned back to the hallway and moved on to the next room. Another agent had already bypassed Jimmy by the time he returned, and was gently pushing at the door of the second room. They inside fired immediately upon any movement. Without waiting for Jimmy to back him up, the agent with the M16 sprayed several shots into the room before checking for safety and declared, "Clear."

As they cleared two rooms in succession, the people in the remaining rooms couldn't hold back anymore and came to the doorways to fire into the corridor. This time Jimmy didn't hold back; if anyone exposed themselves even partially, he shot directly. In a matter of seconds, several people in the room ahead started to howl in pain. Ruiz and the others were not slacking either, firing numerous shots, though most hit the walls.

The scenario often depicted in movies, where a person hit by a bullet falls and dies instantly, doesn't happen in reality. Unless the shot is immediately fatal—like hitting the head, heart, or spine—in most cases, a person who is shot can still survive for a while, and wailing after being shot is totally normal.

After waiting a moment for everyone to reload, Jimmy and the team continued to advance, room by room, subduing the ones not firing and having agents following up with handcuffs or zip ties, waiting for those who did fire to be met with Jimmy's bullets.

Soon, they had cleared all the rooms on the second floor. Those who had been shot but didn't continue to reach for their guns were not targeted further. Jimmy's performance was rather conspicuous this time; except for two rooms that others had entered first, he had led the charge into the remainder, leaving little opportunity for others to shoot at people. Seeing someone with a revolver charging at the front while three others with rifles followed was truly unprecedented.

With the potential threats neutralized, it was time to clean up the scene. Ruiz used the radio to call the others in, asking the monitoring team to notify the paramedics and forensic personnel to come and gather evidence at the scene.

Once the other agents had all entered the old restaurant, Jimmy and the team finally had the chance to gather everyone together. Seven living individuals were cuffed, and except for one who surrendered unharmed, all bore gunshot wounds. Nine were dead on the scene, totaling sixteen—exceeding the surveillance team's intel. Ruiz would probably give them trouble for this later.

Jimmy had only used his Python that day; the Glock and 1875 had remained holstered because the room-by-room clearing allowed him just enough time to reload, so there was no need to switch weapons.

Now that the incident was over, the few supporting agents were assigned to follow the ambulances taking the wounded to emergency care, and the only person who wasn't injured was also arranged to be brought back to the station, waiting for interrogation.

Ruiz had made arrangements in advance, so the forensics team arrived quickly. The entire restaurant needed to be thoroughly inspected, which would take a considerable amount of time. Ruiz was overseeing their evidence collection, leaving Jimmy as the only person with nothing to do.

He pulled up a chair to sit down, took out a handkerchief from his pocket, and began cleaning the Python. Then he reloaded the bullets. The remaining ones in his pocket would need to be put back into their box later. The usual spare bullets in his gun holster were enough for daily use.

He had thought too much this time and brought too many extra bullets. Aside from the spare ones in his holster, he had taken an entire box of 20 bullets and put it in his pocket, which took up quite a bit of space. He would have to remember not to carry so many in the future.

After Ruiz had arranged everyone else's tasks, he finally had a moment to come over to Jimmy. "How are you?"

Jimmy looked up at him, "I'm fine, I wasn't injured."

Ruiz, "I meant, are you feeling any psychological pressure? You took down so many people."

Jimmy shook his head, "Just a bunch of drug traffickers. What kind of psychological pressure? I'm cleaning up the cancer cells of this world, doing good deeds. If they had continued to live, who knows how many more people they would have dragged down with them."

Ruiz looked at Jimmy, who genuinely didn't seem to be affected. He nodded, "If you're okay, then go back and rest. I can handle things here."

Jimmy, "Yeah, by the way, is the gunman who attacked Mario among the dead? I haven't seen his photo."

Ruiz nodded, "Yes, he's upstairs. He's been killed. He looks to be of higher rank than those downstairs, but with so many dead this time, it's hard to tell if we've taken out their leader as well. We might not be able to track down their subsequent channels."

Jimmy, "Alright, as long as he's taken care of, that eases my mind a bit. I'll leave the rest to you. I'm going to grab a bite and then head back to catch up on some sleep."

Ruiz patted Jimmy, "Rest well," and turned back to continue observing the forensic investigation.

Jimmy tidied up his bullet-proof vest and gun and walked out of the old restaurant. The scene had already been cordoned off by the NYPD. Although it wasn't fully light yet, onlookers had already gathered around. The penchant for a crowd to gather at a spectacle was a common human trait everywhere.

Jimmy lifted the police tape to leave and walked back to his car, took off the bullet-proof vest, changed into his own clothes, and drove away from the scene.

Checking the time, Jimmy decided to take a detour home and first drove to Flushing in Queens. As for breakfast, he had had enough of sandwiches, burgers, and bread, and suddenly craved soy milk and deep-fried dough sticks. Now was the perfect time for it, and the distance to Flushing wasn't too far, especially if it was on the way.

Flushing had many good things, and for Jimmy, soy milk, deep-fried dough sticks, and steamed buns were enough for breakfast. He would skip the rest since he intended to go back to sleep and shouldn't eat too much.

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