World of the Apocalypse: Kane’s Evolution System

Chapter 8 Case Investigation II

Five minutes later, the eight officers marched down the street in a single file, shirts stripped off, forced to hop forward like frogs. Armed thugs lined the sidewalks and buildings on both sides, watching them with cold, hostile stares, while countless residents crammed behind every window to gawk.

Glass bottles and discarded cans suddenly rained down from upper floors, and vicious jeers cut through the night. At Kane’s sharp command, the men scrambled back to their patrol cars in a state of humiliation.

Upstairs inside the shop, Blade stared at his subordinate getting his wounds bandaged and spoke in a low voice. “Round up all the men. Move every shipment of contraband tonight—suspend all trades for the time being.”

His underling seethed with resentment. “They’re just a bunch of rookie cops. We’ve got thousands of brothers across this street who could surround them anytime. Why avoid them?”

“Just do as I say.” Blade refused to elaborate. The subordinate had no choice but to trudge out to gather men and haul the drugs away.

Inside the patrol car parked outside the district, Kane wrapped his sliced palm tightly with simple gauze. Ritchie and Dask took turns venting their grievances, furious over the public humiliation that had stripped them of all dignity, and accusing Kane of cowardice.

Kane barked a sharp order, gesturing for everyone to gather close, and rattled out rapid instructions: All officers check their ammunition and don ballistic vests. Two men stay behind to guard the vehicles; the rest redeploy to stake out the area again. The squad stared back in total confusion, unable to grasp his plan.

A dozen minutes later, at the shop’s back entrance.

Pierce was directing his men to haul sacks of narcotics, still grumbling that Blade was spineless. Footsteps echoed without warning. Kane emerged suddenly, clad in a ballistic vest and gripping a riot shotgun.

He drove a brutal kick straight into Pierce’s chest. The brute flew backward, crashing into crates of product and blacking out on impact. Ritchie pressed the muzzle of his gun to Pierce’s temple to hold him at gunpoint.

Kane did not pause for a second; he kicked the rear door open and charged straight up the stairs.

Downstairs, a gang member raced to warn his boss. Blade had just reached for the sidearm holstered at his waist when Kane racked the shotgun slide and burst into the room. He spoke flatly: “The alleys on Dirt Slum Street twist too deep—we hopped for ages and couldn’t find our way out. You’ll have to come down to the precinct with us for questioning, boss.”

Blade’s eyes blew wide with shock, blurting out in disbelief: “You bastards actually circled back to hit us with a surprise counterstrike?”

Inside the second-floor room, Kane wasted no words. He slammed the butt of his shotgun twice hard against Blade’s skull, then Dask stepped forward to snap handcuffs tight around the gang leader’s wrists.

“Take them away—only seize the ringleaders; don’t waste time on the small fries,” Kane ordered as he hauled Blade downstairs.

Pierce, pinned to the ground, suddenly snapped his head up and bit clean through Holt’s palm, roaring to rally all the drug dealers across the street. Dozens of armed thugs swarmed to surround them in an instant. Kane swung the butt of his shotgun hard into Pierce’s mouth, knocking out two front teeth on the spot and smearing blood all over his face.

“Head for the back exit. Grab only five kilos of evidence and abandon the rest of the crates.”

Zabi dumped the cargo boxes, grabbed two sacks of narcotics, and darted into the alley across the street. The mob closed in fast, so Kane fired three warning shots, yet the gangsters refused to retreat and opened fire right back.

Kane led his squad to retreat into a narrow alley, where two police pickup trucks skidded sideways to block the intersection. The officers herded Blade, Pierce and two lackeys into the vehicles before everyone piled into the truck beds.

District Five’s police fleet consisted of off-road vehicles and cargo pickups; only high-ranking officials had dedicated sedans. Pickups were the only viable transport for evacuating large groups through lawless slum blocks.

Zabi slammed his foot flat on the gas, and the truck rocketed out of Dirt Slum Street. Bullets tore through the vehicle frame nonstop along the way, wounding both Thai officers sitting on the outer edges of the bed.

“Run anyone blocking the road straight over,” Kane shouted from his crouched position in the truck bed.

Zabi ducked stray bullets and rammed the crowds cutting off their escape one after another, scattering the pursuing mob’s formation. Even after they broke clear of the block, more than a hundred gang members chased them on foot. Kane wiped blood and grime from his face. “This zone’s spiraling out of control, and it’ll unravel order across the whole city sooner or later.”

Dask clapped Kane on the shoulder, his tone full of admiration. “That double-back ambush was brutal, well played.”

Kane shot him a cold glare and said nothing in reply.

At ten o’clock that night, after his hand laceration was stitched up in the precinct medical station, Kane walked straight into the interrogation room.

Pierce slouched on the floor, cocky and unyielding. “You’ll all be finished within three hours.”

Kane drove a brutal kick into his skull, producing dull, repeated thuds as Pierce’s head slammed against the wall.

“You think you run Dirt Slum Street? Impressive, having five hundred men?” After seven or eight successive kicks, blood poured from Pierce’s nose and mouth, and his body convulsed until he slipped into shock.

“Cold water,” Kane nodded toward Zabi.

A bucket of filthy wastewater crusted with ice sloshed over his head, jolting Pierce back to his senses. Kane planted a boot on his calf and leaned down to stare him dead in the eyes. “Enjoy watching us hop like frogs?”

Pierce’s gaze trembled, and he dared not spit any more threats.

“On your knees,” Kane ordered in a low, heavy voice.

Pierce did not hesitate; he dropped to the floor with a heavy thud.

“Hop on your knees. Stop for even one step, and I’ll lay hands on you.” Kane twisted a fistful of his hair, every word ice-cold.

Two minutes later, Pierce endured crushing humiliation, forced to hop back and forth on his knees inside the interrogation room.

Holt waited outside the door.

Kane spoke. “No all-night questioning tonight. Leave them to stew overnight. The two low-level lackeys have spilled everything already, but Blade and Pierce are hardened old cons—they won’t crack till tomorrow.”

“Want me to drive you back to your new rental courtyard?”

“No. I’m pulling overnight shift at the precinct.”

At eight thirty the next morning, inside Wade’s office.

Wade said, “Every officer who took part in last night’s operation gets a three-hundred-dollar stipend, to be reimbursed from squad operational funds.”

Kane nodded to express his thanks. Wade opened a storage locker and slid a brand-new pair of leather boots across the desk toward him. “Size 43, fits me perfectly. A gift from a friend—take them.”

“That’s far too generous.”

“It’s just a pair of boots.”

Kane accepted the boots, finally grasping Wade’s way of handling things: as long as you delivered tangible results, he never skimped on well-deserved perks.

For two straight days, the whole of Squad Three buried themselves in interrogations. The two junior suspects confessed fully, yet Blade and Pierce remained tight-lipped, refusing to cooperate. Interrogation was not Kane’s strong suit, so he handed the questioning over to Zabi, Ritchie and the others to wait for new leads to surface.

Thursday afternoon, Kane chatted with his squad members when Dask stumbled into the office reeking of alcohol.

Out of old habit, he raised a hand to pat Kane on the head and jeered recklessly. “Got a big head now you’re squad lead?”

“Drinking on duty must cost a pretty penny,” Kane tossed off casually.

“My family set me up on a blind date with a foreign woman. Couldn’t get out of the social obligations.”

Kane pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Dask immediately stepped forward to beg for one, but Kane claimed it was his last. Ritchie joked about mooching a smoke, and Zabi wandered over to bum one too.

Drunk and belligerent, Dask waved the others over to surround Kane and shoved his hand into Kane’s pocket to grab his cigarettes by force.

Kane suddenly snatched the police dagger off the desk and drove the blade straight into Dask’s thigh.

Dask froze rigid on the spot. Kane pulled the knife free with a cold smile, then stabbed the exact same wound a second time.

Blood soaked through Dask’s trousers, and every officer went stone-still. Holt stood rooted to the floor, his eyes blown wide in shock.

“I told you not to carry your horseplay too far. I don’t know my own strength when I lose my temper,” Kane feigned blank innocence and reached out to support Dask as they headed for the medical station.

After this incident, no one in the squad dared to tease or provoke Kane recklessly ever again, and Dask reined in his usual insolent disregard for rank.

Holt had watched the whole scene unfold, and he finally saw Kane for who he truly was: his mild demeanor was nothing but a facade. His bottom line must never be crossed, for he navigated conflicts with smooth tact yet struck without mercy when pushed. Even Hawk, who had bullied everyone relentlessly before, dared not pick fights with him following the kidnapping bust.

Years of scraping by at society’s lowest rungs had forged his steely mindset—the very thing that let him hold his ground amid the rampant chaos of District Five.

Once Dask was taken care of, Kane thought of the courtyard at No. 88 he’d rented and contacted Cruz to head over together.

Elsewhere, in a hidden warehouse tucked away on Dirt Slum Street, an elderly man leaning on a cane listened to his subordinate’s report. He tapped the tip of his cane against the floor and said, “This Kane’s a fresh transfer, yet he moved fast to lock up Pierce and Blade. He must have powerful backing up the chain. Take men and dig up everything you can find on him.”