The “Gentleman’s Club” at 8 Collins in Chicago’s South Side opened for business at noon.
Hank pushed the door open and walked straight in, with Bruce and Katherine following closely behind.
The club was dimly lit.
A few early customers sat at the bar drinking, while a dancer on stage twisted listlessly, clearly high and looking lethargic.
The bouncer behind the bar saw the police and immediately stood up straight.
“Police aren’t welcome here.
Get out now.”
“Is Gavin here?” Hank asked directly, ignoring the bouncer’s threat.
The bouncer didn’t answer, instead using his walkie-talkie to call his cohorts.
By then, Hank had already rounded the bar and reached the bouncer’s side.
Seeing this, the bouncer tried to attack Hank, but Bruce, behind him, moved first.
Bruce grabbed the bouncer’s incoming punch and pulled downward.
The bouncer’s center of gravity shifted forward instantly, losing his footing.
Bruce tripped him with his left foot, swung him to the right, and pinned him against the counter with a reverse hold.
He didn’t say a word throughout.
Anyone who dared to attack a police officer couldn’t be a good person anyway.
Katherine stepped forward, pulled out the bouncer’s belt, and tied his hands behind his back.
Hank remained silent the whole time, walking toward the office behind the bar.
This was why he had brought Bruce and Katherine along: they were daring, capable, and didn’t sweat the small stuff.
Hank kicked open the door to the back office.
Gavin Collins was a tall, thin man in his sixties with white hair, wearing a silk shirt and flirting with a young girl.
Seeing someone barge in, he was about to shout a reprimand, but his face darkened when he recognized Hank.
“Voight, do you have a warrant?”
“I’m looking for your nephews, Collins,” Hank said, approaching the desk and leaning over it with both hands, staring down at Gavin Collins.
“Sean and Brandon.
They kidnapped four female college students to use as drug mules.
One is dying in the hospital, and the other three are missing…”
Gavin’s eyes flickered.
He knew his nephews had been dealing drugs recently, but he hadn’t expected them to draw police attention so quickly.
Cursing the idiots in his head, Gavin put on a look of disdain.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Sean has his own business; I don’t interfere.”
“Is that so?” Hank grabbed a photo frame from the desk, showing Gavin with two young men.
“Then tell me, if they use your club as a distribution point, would you ‘interfere’ then?”
As he spoke, he picked up a nearby ashtray and slammed it down onto Gavin’s hand.
“Argh!!!” Gavin’s face contorted in agony as he curled up on the floor, clutching his hand and letting out a painful scream.
The scantily clad woman nearby was already terrified, and even Katherine looked confused.
Bruce stood by the door, watching everything without feeling that anything was amiss.
His [Hearing Positioning] captured the footsteps of at least six people outside the door—Gavin’s men were closing in.
He immediately placed his hand on his holster, signaling Katherine.
Katherine noticed as well.
She lightly rested her hand on her holster and gave a small nod.
The next second, the door was kicked open, and a tall white man rushed in with a Colt 1911.
Bruce stepped forward and kicked the gun out of his hand, followed by a quick knee strike.
The man collapsed instantly, and the gun slid over to Hank’s feet.
Katherine wasn’t to be outdone.
She ambushed the next armed man from the side, striking his carotid artery with a knife-hand chop.
The man fell, and Katherine picked up his dropped firearm.
The entire process took less than two seconds.
Two of Gavin’s gunmen were down, and the remaining four lackeys with knives froze in their tracks, not daring to enter.
Hank ignored the commotion at the door.
He picked up the fallen pistol, weighed it in his hand, looked up at the downed Gavin, and walked over slowly.
“This is intimidation, Voight,” Gavin warned through his screams, seeing Hank’s intent.
“I can get a lawyer.”
“You can do that,” Hank ignored him, crouching down to grab Gavin’s hair and lift his head.
He then shoved the gun into Gavin’s mouth.
Now, I’m going to count to three.
If you don’t talk, you’ll never speak again…”
“One…
two…” Hank counted while flipping the safety off.
“And I’ll notify the Drug Enforcement Administration to thoroughly investigate every one of your clubs, ensuring your son doesn’t get a single dollar.”
Sweat poured down Gavin’s forehead.
He frantically signaled with his eyes that he would talk—get this damn gun out of my mouth, fuck, how can I talk if you’re plugging my mouth?
Seeing this, Hank finally pulled the pistol out of Gavin’s mouth.
“Cough…
cough…
They…
they have a warehouse of their own in the West Side Industrial Park, Building D, No.
7.
It’s for storing ‘goods.’ But I don’t know anything about the girls, I swear!”
Hearing this, Hank straightened up, ejected the magazine from the pistol, and tossed it onto the sofa.
“Thanks for the cooperation, Gavin.
By the way, you’d better tell those four guys outside to back off.
My two colleagues look a bit tense.”
Gavin hurriedly waved his men away, telling them to get lost and send this plague of a man on his way.
As they left the club, Katherine whispered to Bruce, “Cool.
I like this style.”
“Me too.
Simple and effective,” Bruce smiled.
…
West Side Industrial Park, Warehouse D-7.
The Intelligence Unit’s vehicles silently surrounded the warehouse.
Hank issued final orders over the radio: “Jay, Antonio on the left; Bruce, Katherine in the front; Erin and I on the right.
Priority is protecting the girls.
Try to take suspects alive.”
The main rolling door was shut tight, but a small side door was slightly ajar.
Bruce and Katherine moved quickly to either side of the door.
They nodded at each other, and Bruce held up three fingers for a countdown: “Three, two, one, GO!”
The two burst into the warehouse simultaneously.
Their weapon lights illuminated the dim interior, revealing a scene from hell.
In the center of the warehouse, a blonde girl lay on a plastic sheet.
Her abdomen had been crudely sliced open, exposing her internal organs.
Dozens of ruptured condoms and viscous drug residue were scattered around her.
She was no longer breathing, her eyes staring emptily at the ceiling, filled with terror.
“Megan Benson…” Katherine frowned, confirming the victim’s identity.
Bruce forced himself to stay calm.
This was the first time he had seen such a hellish scene.
Suddenly, Bruce spun around, pointing his gun at the shadows of the right-hand shelves: “Come out!”
A man rushed out of the shadows holding a utility knife.
It was Brandon Collins.
Bruce recognized him instantly from the file photos.
Brandon’s face was contorted as he lunged straight at Katherine.
Bruce didn’t fire because Katherine had already reacted.
She stepped aside to dodge the blade while grabbing Brandon’s arm, delivering a precise elbow strike to his throat.
Brandon choked and stumbled back.
Bruce stepped in with a follow-up kick, knocking the knife from his hand, and then pinned him to the floor.
Just as they were about to report in, gunshots and shouting erupted from the other end of the warehouse.
Hank’s voice came over the radio: “Sean escaped through the back door!
He’s in a red pickup with the remaining two girls!”
Bruce handcuffed Brandon and handed him over to the arriving Jay, then he and Katherine rushed out the back door, but the red pickup had already driven out of the industrial park.
“The parlor has medical equipment, and he needs a doctor to remove the remaining drugs from the girls or treat their wounds.”
“Old Ai and Adam are over there,” Katherine agreed.
“But there are only two of them.
We need to get there fast for backup.”
Bruce was already running toward the Intelligence Unit’s car.
“Hank, Sean might be heading to ‘Underground Ink.’ We need to notify Old Ai and the others!”
…
Cicero District, “Underground Ink” Tattoo Parlor.
Old Ai and Ruzek hid in a van across the street, monitoring the tattoo parlor.
They knew Sean had escaped and was likely headed here, so they were on high alert.
Suddenly, a white Toyota pulled up in front of the shop.
A man carrying a medical bag got out, looked around cautiously, and entered the parlor.
Old Ai quickly reported in.
“That’s the doctor Owen found,” Hank’s voice came over the radio.
“Likely a surgeon here to remove the drugs.
We’ll be there in two minutes.
Old Ai, keep eyes on him.”
Just then, Ruzek saw the red pickup screech to a halt in front of the shop.
Sean Collins jumped out and roughly dragged two young girls—Sarah and Alyssa—out of the truck.
Both were deathly pale and could barely walk.
“Sean’s inside too,” Evan reported quickly.
“Both girls are there, but they’re in bad shape.”
Suddenly, a scream came from inside the tattoo parlor, followed by a gunshot.
“Hank, shots fired on site!
Get here now!” Evan cursed.
“fuck, Ruzek, we have to go in!”
The two drew their guns and rushed across the street, hugging the wall outside the tattoo parlor and warning away nearby pedestrians.
Just as Old Ai and Ruzek were about to breach the door, it burst open.
Sean dragged Alyssa out, holding a gun to her head.
Old Ai caught a glimpse inside; Sarah was collapsed on the floor, bleeding from her abdomen.
“Back off!
Or I’ll kill her!” Sean seemed to be high, screaming frantically with his gun raised.
Evan and Adam aimed their weapons but didn’t dare fire.
In the standoff, Bruce and Katherine’s car roared around the corner, drifting to a stop in the middle of the road.
Before the car had even fully stopped, Bruce jumped out, rolled to dissipate the momentum, and drew his gun to fire as he stabilized himself.
“Bang…” A single shot rang out, and Sean collapsed, the arrogant expression still frozen on his face.
Old Ai quickly moved in to control the scene, securing Sean’s pistol and confirming he was dead.
“Clear!” Old Ai shouted, catching the collapsing Alyssa, who was already showing signs of poisoning as foam began to form at the corners of her mouth.
At that moment, the doctor inside suddenly rushed out, trying to flee.
Katherine lunged at him, applying a fluid joint lock that twisted the doctor’s arm behind his back.
She snatched his scalpel and pinned him to the ground.
The convoy led by Hank arrived.
The scene was quickly secured, and ambulances took the two girls away.
As the doctor was being shoved into a police car, he was still screaming: “You don’t understand!
They volunteered!
For a free vacation!”
Bruce stood at the door of the tattoo parlor, watching Sarah and Alyssa being loaded into the ambulance.
Both girls were only nineteen.
For a few days of sun and sand in Mexico, they had gambled their lives and futures.
Truly foolish.
Hank walked over and patted both of them on the shoulder.
“Good job.”
Back at the precinct, Bruce sat at his desk, looking at the discharge report in front of him.
A wave of exhaustion washed over him.
Just then, a system notification appeared: Solved human drug smuggling case, arrested the Collins brothers, rescued two hostages.
[bronze treasure chest ×1].