svetikya Chapter 48 Father and Daughter Who Lost Their Target for Revenge
Chapter 48 Father and Daughter Who Lost Their Target for Revenge
Not long after Lee En and Frank finished attacking the gang.
A group of people dressed in suits arrived at two different locations.
"Has this guy gone mad? Burning so much drugs, does he want everyone in this area to become addicted?"
In front of the Amick Group building.
The three men in suits, seeing the raging fire, knew that if it wasn't brought under control, things would really get out of hand.
One of the men, who was somewhat bald, made the call.
"Chief, requesting the use of equipment."
"allow."
When the bald man hung up the phone, he vaguely heard a voice say: "Mare fak."
"Hurry up."
Two other men in suits opened their briefcases, took out what looked like vacuum cleaners, and rushed into the fire.
Before long, the fire gradually died down, and the billowing black smoke disappeared.
"Walk."
The three men in suits left quickly, as if they had never been there.
……
An abandoned quarry in the suburbs.
Damon McCready stood in the morning mist, his back to the rising sun.
"Mindy, you must learn to protect yourself. The police and judicial systems in this country are ruined."
His voice echoed between the rock walls of the quarry.
He used to be a police officer, and he wore the New York Police Department badge on his chest for eleven years.
Until the fabricated evidence of corruption by the Amick Group was placed on the desk of the Ministry of Internal Affairs.
On the day his badge was removed, he stood at the entrance of the police station, his hand still in a salute position, but his fingers were now empty.
Then came the gang's pursuit.
His wife died on the sofa in their living room, with three bullet holes in her back. A freshly brewed cup of black tea was still on the coffee table.
He was disillusioned with the national system and wanted to seek revenge alone.
He left Mindy in foster care, took the Glock, and walked into the Amick Corporation building.
Kill as many as you can, until you yourself are pierced by bullets.
Then he saw a painting she had done in Mindy's room.
A family of three stood on the green grass. The sun was yellow, the clouds were white, and everyone was smiling.
He folded the painting and put it in his breast pocket, then changed his mind.
"Mindy, you have to be strong. Don't be afraid. Pull the trigger."
Mindy McCready gripped the pistol with both hands; the grips were too big, and the gun was too heavy.
Two small hands were stacked together, barely enough to cover the grip, with the index finger resting on the outside of the trigger guard.
She was only ten years old.
But his expression was very serious.
It wasn't because of the judicial system, and it wasn't because of revenge.
She's too young to understand those things.
She only noticed that her father would squat down to her eye level only during training, support her elbows with his hands to adjust the angle, and whisper in her ear: "Yes, that's it."
Only at these times did something else appear in my father's eyes.
It wasn't the kind of emptiness I'd seen before.
Mindy aimed his sights at an empty beer bottle standing on a rock a few meters away.
She slowly pulled the trigger, the same movement her father had taught her.
Don't slam the trigger; instead, slowly and steadily push back, making the firing an unexpected event.
boom.
The recoil from the rifle butt slammed into her tender shoulder, pushing her back two steps until her heel hit a pebble, and she fell flat on her back into the mud.
She didn't cry or make a fuss. She immediately got up, dusted off her knees, gripped the pistol again, and looked in the direction of the beer bottle.
The bottle was broken, and the shards of glass reflected a shimmering light in the morning sun.
She turned her head, a smile spreading across her face.
"Daddy, I hit it!"
Damon walked over, squatted down to examine her shoulder, where the butt of the gun had struck, and it was now red.
His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed back what was rising in his throat.
He couldn't remember when Mindy started hitting the target nine out of ten times, even though the target was nearly ten meters away.
A ten-year-old girl almost never missed the target when shooting at a fixed target.
He knew this wasn't normal, but he needed this abnormality.
"Well done."
He stood up, took a few steps back, and placed more beer bottles one by one on the stone.
"Now, use up all the remaining bullets."
"If I hit them all, can I have an ice cream?"
Mindy's eyes lit up, revealing her longing for the ice cream cone.
"That stuff is too high in calories and sugar."
Damon instinctively refused, using the standard terminology of a former police officer regarding healthy eating.
Mindy puffed out her cheeks, turned her lower lip upwards, and retaliated with the most primal weapon of a ten-year-old girl.
"But it's really hard to hit them all. If there were no ice cream, I probably wouldn't have been able to hit them at all."
Damon looked at her pouting lips and her eyes, which hadn't yet lost their shine.
No father in the world can resist this expression from his daughter.
Even the former policeman, who still had that painting in his breast pocket and whose heart was still burning with the flames of revenge, couldn't do that.
He sighed.
"It has to be all correct."
"Yay!"
Mindy turned around and faced the row of beer bottles standing on the stone.
She gripped the gun firmly and aimed the sight at the first bottle.
This time she didn't slowly pull the trigger.
Because she has already learned it.
boom.
The first shot hit, and the bottle bounced off the rock and shattered in mid-air.
She rotated her wrist and aimed the sight at the second one.
boom.
Gunshots echoed continuously in the quarry.
all hit.
"yeah!"
Mindy put the safety on his pistol, tucked it into his pocket, and jumped around several times.
"Ice cream! Ice cream!"
It has to be said that she is really talented. With her dedication to ice cream, she has achieved a grand slam.
Damon had no intention of backing out. He picked up the car keys, took her little hand, and walked towards the old pickup truck parked at the entrance of the quarry.
Mindy opened the car door himself, climbed in, fastened his seatbelt, and dangled his legs over the edge of the seat.
The town's only ice cream shop had just opened its doors, and the refrigeration unit inside the glass freezer was humming, while the neon lights inside illuminated the rows of ice cream tubs in a kaleidoscope of colors.
Damon bought a small portion and handed it to Mindy.
She didn't complain about the small portion when she took it; she was happy as long as she had something to eat.
She stuck out her tongue and licked the melting cream on the surface of the ice cream scoop, leaving a white ring around the tip of her tongue.
Then she looked up at the television hanging on the wall inside the store.
The morning news is playing on TV.
The footage is aerial shot of the Kea Bar last night.
Smoke was still billowing from the rooftops, and the red and blue lights of the fire trucks illuminated the entire street.
The scrolling text read: "Attack on West 34th Street bar leaves dozens of gangsters dead."
The white skull on the wall was blurred out.
The word Punisher, written in red liquid below, was also blurred.
"Did he make it?" Mindy stuck out her tongue and licked her ice cream, her eyes fixed on the screen, her tongue still smeared with cream.
"Maybe," Damon replied softly.
He knew who Mindy was referring to.
The man who massacred the Razor Gang warehouse.
There are no news reports about that person yet, but it's already being talked about on the streets.
In the days immediately following his wife's death, he huddled in a corner of his apartment, with all the curtains drawn, and the food in the refrigerator slowly rotting.
The television began showing footage of the fire at the port warehouse.
He looked at the row of warehouses burned to skeletons, and at the densely packed body bags behind the police tape, and stood up from the sofa.
Since the world has fallen into darkness, he will become an owl hunting in the dark, tearing apart all the filthy rats.
Especially Frank Amick.
That guy must...
The image on the TV screen was cut off.
A new scrolling message appeared: "Amick Corporation headquarters attacked; death toll exceeds two hundred."
Group Chairman Frank Amick has been confirmed dead.
Sources say the remaining senior executives of the Amick Group are considering leaving New York.
"Huh?" Mindy tilted her head, her tongue still sticking out, ice cream dripping down the edge of the cone.
"Isn't that guy the biggest villain?"
Damon stared blankly at the television screen, his pupils shrinking.
The lips opened, closed, and opened again.
He did love his daughter Mindy very much, but he also passed on his obsession with revenge to her.
Tell her why her mother died and who killed her.
Therefore, in Mindy's mind, Frank Amick was the number one villain who should be eliminated.
The television now reports that Frank Amick has been confirmed dead.
"Daddy?" Mindy licked the dripping ice cream; she didn't like wasting food.
"That bastard is dead."
"Yes," Damon's voice escaped from his throat, so low it was almost inaudible.
He is dead.
"Do I still need to train?"
Damon's hands moved restlessly.
The purpose of the training no longer exists.
Frank Armick is dead.
He could let her go back to school and go play with her friends after school.
Let her have the life a ten-year-old girl should have.
He opened his mouth, as if to say no.
But his lips moved several times without making a sound.
……