World of the Apocalypse: Kane’s Evolution System

Chapter 7 Case Investigation I

Kane tapped his fingertips lightly against the desk, his expression turning cold by degrees.

On his very first day in charge, a subordinate had openly overstepped his authority and ignored orders.

A test meant to undermine his standing as squad lead had silently arrived.

At half past five in the evening, Kane, Holt, and Zabi, the African-American officer, returned to the office after dinner. It was then that Dask straggled in with the rest of the squad.

Kane sat upright behind his desk and asked in a flat tone, “Where have you been?”

Dask gulped down several mouthfuls of water casually, his attitude lax and unconcerned. “Some lowlife was harassing an acquaintance of mine. Took the guys to sort it out—nothing major.”

Kane chose not to dig deeper and moved straight to business. “Gather round to go over the pharmaceutical trafficking case. Everyone’s working overtime tonight to track down leads.”

Showing no respect for their superior-subordinate hierarchy at all, Dask sauntered over to the desk and held out his hand for cigarettes. “You got any more? Hit me with another.”

“None left,” Kane replied coolly.

Dask clicked his tongue, pulled out an e-cigarette and took a drag, then laid out his own operation plan unilaterally. “This case is a walkover. The drug peddlers on Dirt Slum Street set up stalls out in the open for everyone to see. We just roll up and round them all up—every single arrest will stick.”

Kane frowned, filled with misgivings. Holt quickly stepped in to explain the chaotic state of the District: the area was packed with diverse ethnic groups and rival factions, law and order were loose, and regional clashes had even broken out in years past. Underground unwritten rules governed the shadow industries, making the situation far more complex than it appeared on the surface.

“Don’t overcomplicate things,” Dask cut him off forcefully, his tone brimming with arrogant certainty. “Strike fast before word of the crackdown spreads—that’s the safest play. Dragging our feet will only tip the targets off.”

Lacking local case-handling experience, Kane turned to the levelheaded Zabi to ask for his input. Zabi admitted that the District precinct suffered from terrible information security; prolonged covert investigations would inevitably leak to the traffickers, making a sudden raid the only viable option.

After weighing all the pros and cons, Kane made up his mind and issued crisp orders. “Park both vehicles out of sight down the back alley. All officers inspect your firearms and ballistic vests. Keep eyes locked on the target shops, and move in the second a transaction takes place.”

Before he finished speaking, Dask let out a snort of laughter and jeered openly. “Ballistic vests? These punks are total pushovers. I’ve patrolled here dozens of times and manhandled them easy—they’d never dare put up a fight.”

Kane ignored his flippant attitude and said coldly, “Carry out your mission.”

Before the operation kicked off, Holt pulled him aside quietly to smooth things over. “Squad Lead, Dask means no harm. He’s just rough around the edges and doesn’t know how to follow protocol—don’t take it personally.”

Kane saw right through the situation. Leaning on his seniority and the connections he’d built within the squad, Dask had openly seized command and flouted the chain of command. Though he acted carefree on the surface, he was deliberately provoking the newly appointed squad lead. For now, most of the unit sided with Dask. If Kane lashed out recklessly, it would tear the squad apart. This power struggle had only just begun. Meanwhile, Holt stood by and watched coldly, waiting to see the two men clash.

At half past eight that night, two police cruisers pulled up discreetly at the entrance to Dirt Slum Street. The officers changed into plain clothes and slipped on foot into this lawless gray zone—the most chaotic stretch of District Five.

The street teemed with all manner of unsavory characters: jobless drifters loitered everywhere, dim, suggestive lights glowed from adult entertainment parlors, and dazed addicts wandered every corner. A run-down, oppressive atmosphere hung thick with despair and restlessness. Kane was no stranger to the chaos of the underbelly; his expression remained calm as he advanced with steady strides.

After trekking nearly a kilometer deeper into the block, the group halted in front of an unmarked storefront lining the street.

“This is the spot,” Dask whispered with a nod.

Kane scanned the surroundings. The shop inside was eerily quiet, with no signs of any ongoing deal. His guard shot up at once. “No one traffics drugs out in the open without guards. If we charge in blindly, something’s bound to go wrong.”

“You’ll never get anything done if you keep dithering!” Dask’s patience wore thin, his voice growing sharper as he pushed to move forward. “If we wait any longer, word will spread!”

Moments later, three suspects stepped into the shop to complete a transaction. Kane made an instant call and ordered the raid. Eight officers surrounded the premises from three angles before kicking down the door and storming inside.

The three men at the counter were caught completely off guard. A burly young man behind the bar paled sharply and stumbled backward instinctively, the muzzle of a gun peeking out faintly from his waistband.

In this lawless slum, a standoff could turn deadly in an instant. At the sight, Dask showed no mercy. He lunged forward, grabbed the man by the collar, and slammed the butt of his pistol hard into his skull—once, twice, three times… The burly youth thrashed wildly under the relentless blows, only stoking Dask’s rage further. He seized the man’s hair and smashed his face brutally against the sharp edge of the counter.

Blood gushed forth instantly. The youth’s eyes rolled back, and he crumpled rigidly to the floor, unconscious.

Chaos erupted without warning as rapid, chaotic footsteps thundered down the stairs. A bald brute wrapped in a military greatcoat charged downstairs. Upon seeing the carnage inside the shop, he snatched up a walkie-talkie and roared a warning: “Second shop’s being raided—all hands assemble now!”

Within seconds, the entire street erupted in turmoil. Dozens of thugs armed with machetes, steel pipes, chains, and even firearms poured out from the bungalows and buildings lining both sides. They surged forward like a tide to block the shop’s entrance, trapping the officers inside in a tight encirclement.

A seething mob reeked of unbridled violence as they closed in, the situation spiraling entirely out of control. Kane’s pupils shrank sharply; the scene instantly brought back memories of the riots he’d witnessed in the unregulated zones long ago. His fingers twitched as he quietly thumbed the safety off his sidearm.

Staring at the sea of hostile thugs packed outside the door, all of Dask’s earlier bravado vanished without a trace. Cold sweat beaded his forehead, and his voice shook with stunned disbelief. “Since when… did they have this many men?”

Inside the shop, Blade—the bald man in the military greatcoat—stood atop the staircase, casting a cold glance at Pierce, who lay bleeding on the floor. His tone turned frigid. “Where the hell did you cops come from, daring to storm my territory?”

More than twenty armed gangsters blocked the rear exit, trapping Kane against the wall; his uniform clung to his back, soaked through with sweat.

Dask fumbled out his badge in a panic, brandishing his gun as he shouted: “We’re investigating drug trafficking! We saw a deal taking place right here with our own eyes!”

The bald man let out a mocking snort and gestured toward his advancing underlings. “Who saw it?”

The gang of enforcers closed in step by step, steel pipes and short blades in hand, boxing the eight officers tightly in the middle of the main room. Dask completely lost his nerve, all his bluster gone without a trace.

Kane stepped forward to attempt negotiation, when Pierce on the floor suddenly pushed himself upright. Covered head to toe in blood, he roared and threw a brutal punch straight into Dask’s face.

Before anyone could intervene, he snatched a box cutter off the counter and lunged forward. Dask dodged to the side out of instinct, sending the blade hurtling straight toward Holt beside him.

Holt had no time to evade. Kane threw himself sideways and clamped his bare hand tight around the blade. Blood streamed down through his fingers, soaking the floorboards.

Pierce’s eyes blazed with ferocity as he wrenched the knife free to stab again. Kane twisted his wrist to lock it in place, then turned toward Blade on the stairs, keeping his voice steady and restrained. “We only came for a routine inspection after receiving an anonymous tip. Your man drew a weapon first, which forced my partner to subdue him—we did not come here looking for trouble.”

Blade slouched lazily on the steps, puffing on an e-cigarette and saying nothing.

Kane softened his tone further. “I was just transferred in and know nothing of Dirt Slum Street’s unwritten rules. If this is just a misunderstanding, we will withdraw at once, and we can both back down.”

“You think you can beat my man and walk away scot-free?” Pierce snarled, straining against Kane’s grip.

Blade finally lifted his gaze. “Let them leave.”

Pierce refused to let it rest, barking out a humiliating ultimatum with venom. “You want out? Strip all your shirts off and hop your way down this street like frogs!”

Ritchie, the quiet reserved officer in the squad, instantly raised his firearm and shouted in rage, but Kane pressed a firm hand down on his gun, speaking gravely: “Do as he says.”

Burning with resentment, Ritchie had no choice but to swallow his fury.

Blade slowly rose and headed for the upper floor, tossing out a warning over his shoulder. “This territory hates outsiders. Don’t come back. If dozens of my men descend on you next time, you won’t live long enough to make any arrests.” With that, he vanished up the stairwell.