Chapter 49: Operation Begins
Ron jumped out of the car and ripped off the cover, revealing a menacing steel beast underneath: "Now, let's get to work~"
Whether it was divine favor or the obsession of Arthur Morgan in heaven, Ron discovered that his sharpshooter ability could actually enhance the 63-style multiple rocket launcher! Was this considered a rotary weapon? Ron pondered, momentarily feeling less impressed with the Remington shotgun in his hands.
"I underestimated it; I should have brought my M32," Ron murmured to himself.
"Is having a rocket launcher not enough? Do you have any idea how terrifying this thing is when loaded with high-explosive rockets? It could practically wipe that laundromat off the map!" Hank exclaimed.
Hank rubbed his ears, making sure he hadn't misheard. Was Ron really complaining about firepower?
"I can't help it! My soul hails from a mysterious Eastern ancient land, and the fear of insufficient firepower is deeply ingrained in my blood!" Ron shrugged and said nonsensically.
"Are you talking about a game?" Hank asked, rechecking his M4 carbine, still confused.
His new boss often made bizarre statements. Although Andy had advised him to ignore Ron, Hank couldn't help but ask.
"No, I'm talking about 'Reincarnation,'" Ron said, using the Chinese term for reincarnation, leaving Hank baffled. Fortunately, Ron didn't delve further into that topic.
"Do you see that little street in front of the laundromat? It wraps around to the back entrance. There's a building right across from the laundromat. You stay there for now. Once I start firing, someone will come out. No matter what living being you see, make them lie down. Don't rush in without my command, understood? Your weapon is not a toy; I shouldn't need to tell you this."
Hank nodded vigorously, unsure how to respond. Ron waved him off and began to stealthily move to his designated position, avoiding detection from anyone inside the laundromat. Once he adjusted the aiming of the rocket launcher to the right spot, he finally pressed the launch button.
"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!" The first round of four rockets, each loaded with tear gas warheads, shot into Uncle Chicken's laundromat.
"Attack!" The people inside screamed in panic and immediately dropped to the ground, mimicking each other. However, the anticipated explosion didn't occur.
Instead, the four rockets unleashed a black gas that quickly spread outward. Those engulfed in the gas were immediately choked, tears streaming down their faces as they coughed amidst the smoke.
"It's tear gas!" One of Fring's men quickly reacted, scrambling to escape the smoke. However, the laundromat only had two doors—one in the front and one in the back. Most people immediately targeted the front door.
Meanwhile, Ron, estimating the time had passed, adjusted the launch angle again and set the rocket strike point at the laundromat's front door before pressing the launch button once more.
"Whoosh..." Four rockets simultaneously left the launcher, landing among the fleeing henchmen at the laundromat's entrance. This time, however, all four rockets were high-explosive.
"Boom!" A deafening explosion erupted, and the henchmen at the entrance barely had time to comprehend what had just landed among them before the shockwave from the blast sent them flying, shredding them into pieces with shrapnel.
Ron conservatively estimated that at least seven or eight henchmen were eliminated, and a satisfied expression crossed his face: "Perfect!"
"Cough, cough! There are people at the door! Cough, go to the back door!" One dark-skinned man, seemingly the leader, shouted while holding a rifle, then dashed toward the back door.
As he pushed the door open, the leader greedily inhaled a big breath of relatively clean air. Finally, he was saved...
However, before he could finish his breath, Hank, who had been lying in wait at the back door, unleashed a quick burst of fire, and the henchman leader collapsed to the ground.
"Those crafty cops! They've got people waiting at the back door too!" Even without being told, the remaining henchmen realized this and quickly drew various weapons, coughing as they fired wildly at the back door.
Unfortunately, it was of no use. Hank remembered Ron's orders and stood firm at the back door, waiting to ambush any drug dealer attempting to flee.
Meanwhile, Ron manually swapped the flashbangs that had been loaded into the rocket launcher for high-explosive rounds and fired another volley into the laundromat before jumping into the pickup truck. He slammed the accelerator to the floor, charging toward the laundromat.
"Boom!"
A series of violent explosions sent the henchmen waiting at the back door reeling, leaving a scene of dismembered bodies and moaning figures scattered everywhere.
"Bang!" Ron drove the pickup truck directly into the laundromat, knocking aside a henchman trying to escape through the front door and blocking the entrance with the vehicle. The henchmen, still able to fight after two rounds of bombardment, immediately opened fire on the truck, but nothing happened.
No one was in the driver's seat?!
Bolder henchmen crept closer to pull open the door, only to find the driver's seat empty, with only a brick pressed against the gas pedal, causing the engine to roar.
They had been outsmarted.
"What a bunch of idiots! Fighting with you guys is just dragging down my intelligence." Ron's mocking voice echoed, borrowing the words he had just received from Sherlock that morning to taunt these drug dealers.
"Who?!" The henchmen quickly turned their heads towards the source of the voice at the door, but all that awaited them was a Remington 12-gauge buckshot, which tore through them with a hail of tiny lead pellets.
Clad in a felt hat and a stylish cowboy outfit, Ron swaggered through the doorway with his shotgun ready.
Finally, some of the drug dealers could no longer withstand the relentless assault and collapsed in tears, emerging from their makeshift cover. "Don't shoot! We surrender!"
"Bang!" Smoke curled from Ron's gun as one henchman fell. He deftly reloaded, the familiar "click" echoing in his ears.
"Sorry, I don't accept surrender. Die, scum!"
Drug dealers did not deserve to live; this was one of Ron's beliefs forged through the education of his past life. If it weren't for the need to completely drain Fring, that major drug lord, Ron would have already used the 63-style rocket launcher to obliterate his home.