Chapter 1 I Was a Traitor to My Fellow Thieves, and You Said I Was Your Undercover Agent in the Detective Bureau?

2000, outside Los Angeles.

In a wooden house deep in the jungle, exaggerated and arrogant laughter came from time to time.

"We're rich!"

"Hahaha, 3.8 million, 3.8 million dollars, how many girls can I sleep with!"

A group of robbers who had just finished robbing looked greedily at the US dollars covering a whole table, holding burning marijuana in their hands, looking excited, and grabbing a handful of US dollars to kiss with their mouths from time to time.

The woods outside the house.

Dean listened to the noise in the wooden house seven or eight meters away, lowered his head, and looked at the surrounding forest environment in a daze.

Where the hell is this?

Where is the big horse I called for a lot of money?

After three soul questions.

Dean shook subconsciously.

It was like completing a ritual after draining water.

A tingling feeling ran from the spine to the forehead, clearly telling Dean that everything in front of him was real.

Is this a time travel?

Dean realized this problem and quickly checked his body.

It's really different!

There were no more hideous scars on his body from being punished when he was a child, and no more calluses and scars on his hands from practicing various skills..

Using the big tree next to him as a reference, this body was much taller than in the previous life, with a wide skeleton, strong muscles, and full of strength, far surpassing the sick body in the previous life!

In the previous life, Dean was an orphan. When he was eight or nine years old, he was taken away from the welfare home by foreigners and taken to an overseas island, where he spent his extremely dark childhood.

Because of his physical condition.

Although he had a good gun skill, he was not good at fighting. Fortunately, he was smart. In the end, he survived from a group of cannon fodder companions and passed the lowest requirement of the cleaner assessment, and finally became the outermost cannon fodder of the organization.

Before crossing.

Dean had just completed a task.

He habitually found a big foreign horse with a protruding front and a curvy back, ready to relax his tense spirit.

As a result, as soon as he took off his pants.

He was in front of his eyes.

Opening his eyes again.

Everything has changed.

For crossing.

Dean was undoubtedly very happy.

He no longer has to live a precarious life like a sewer rat!

It's a pity for that big foreign horse.

He gave the money, but as soon as he took off his pants, he came over.

He hasn't done anything yet!

After Dean calmed down, he found that his mind actually carried the original memory of this body, but it was still a little confused and could not provide him with useful information at present.

Out of professional habit.

He looked around.

This should be a forest that few people have set foot on. There are at least six or seven people in the noisy wooden house not far away.

Outside the wooden house, there are two pickup trucks parked.

There are several half-person-high oil drums behind the pickup trucks, with fresh mud on the tires and the doors wide open.

Thinking of the words that came from the wooden house just now.

Dean concluded that this was a group of robbers who had just finished a robbery and then hid here to avoid the limelight.

What about himself?

Thinking that he had just crossed over and the owner of this body was draining water.

A bad idea came to Dean's mind.

I might be an accomplice of this group of robbers!

He quickly checked himself and found an M1911 full of bullets. In addition, there was a full spare magazine in his pocket.

Dean was angry.

"Fuck, I was a scavenger in my previous life, and I became a robber in this life. I can't live without a knife, right? Why is it so difficult to be a good person!"

Just when he lamented that he was destined not to be a good person, he took out a certificate with a Los Angeles police badge from his left pocket.

"What is this?"

Dean opened it and found that it was a detective certificate of the Los Angeles Police Detective Bureau and the "Anti-Crime and Drug Enforcement Division", with the name and photo of the owner of the certificate on it.

"Dean Lee's name is the same as my full name in my previous life, black hair and blue eyes, he looks pretty handsome, and looks a bit like an ancient Roman"

Dean thought that this detective certificate was found on him, and his heart moved. He pulled a hair from his head and found that it was black hair.

It's a hammer!

In this life, he is not a robber, but a detective!

Maybe the owner of this body followed the robbers and came here, and then he had to pee urgently, so he took a break and ended up taking over his body.

Just then.

The people in the house started to make noise again.

Dean listened and found that the group of people were discussing how to have fun with the 3.8 million US dollars after avoiding the limelight.

He looked at the gun in his hand, and his heart itched.

3.8 million US dollars!

It was equivalent to the commission for hundreds of missions in his previous life!

Detectives have to make a living, right?

Compared to solving cases and getting promoted, isn't it better to cheat the gangs?

As soon as this thought came up, it was like an ant in Dean's heart, crawling around in Dean's heart.

Let's do it!

Dean's eyes flashed with ruthlessness. He took out his pistol, loaded it, and replaced it with a spare magazine. After maintaining the strongest firepower of 7+1, he moved towards the window of the wooden house.

These robbers were stupid and didn't even arrange a sentry.

Dean looked through the window and saw what was going on inside.

There were seven robbers, all black.

Six of them were standing around a table full of banknotes, holding a pile of banknotes in one hand and a marijuana cigarette in the other, looking intoxicated.

There was another person, who was extremely strong, with muscles like molten steel, standing on a wooden stake, puffing smoke from a cigar, and watching the six people dancing in front of the table.

Dean's predecessor seemed to have a particularly deep impression of this extremely strong black man. The moment he saw him, some fragmented information immediately emerged in his mind: Nathan, the boss of a small gang

This made Dean more certain of his identity as a detective of the "Anti-Crime and Drug Enforcement Division".

Otherwise, why would he care so much about the other party's information?

These people may have just succeeded, and at this moment they are in a state of complacency, with long guns and short guns, all thrown casually on the chairs behind them.

See here.

Dean was helpless.

This group of idiots is simply tempting him to rob the thieves!

Remember everyone's position.

Dean walked to the door, calculated it once, took a deep breath, and kicked the wooden door open.

The loud bang attracted the attention of everyone in the room.

Everyone looked at Dean who kicked the door in with some confusion. The black man holding a cigar was stunned for a moment, and said unhappily: "Dean, what are you sending?"

Dean was surprised that the other party knew him, but he was too lazy to talk nonsense with the dead.

Bang bang bang~

Eight consecutive gunshots.

He did not change his face, and emptied the magazine in one breath with a set of American Iai that the old Americans were familiar with, and shot all seven people to the ground, screaming.

Especially the boss Nathan, who was taken care of by Dean, and fired two consecutive shots at the other's chest.

The scream was very short.

The M1911 in Dean's hand used a 45-caliber bullet, which was as powerful as a rifle at close range. When it hit a person, a bloody hole was immediately created.

The people who were shot struggled for a few times, then their eyes widened, and the blood soaked their clothes, looking like they were dying with their eyes open.

In a blink of an eye.

The originally happy wooden house became a hell with corpses everywhere.

Nathan was strong and had not died completely.

He raised his hand with difficulty and pointed at Dean tremblingly. He wanted to say something, but he only coughed up a few mouthfuls of blood.

Dean whistled, changed the magazine, squatted in front of the other party, and teased: "You have never seen a detective robbing a thief. Why are your eyes so wide open?"

After spitting out a few mouthfuls of blood.

Nathan finally made a weak voice: "FK, I asked you to go undercover in the detective bureau, you bastard, you dare to robbing a thief"

Dean was stunned: "Fuck, I robbing a thief, and you said I was your undercover in the detective bureau?"

He acted quickly.

His memory has not been integrated yet, and he doesn't know if Nathan has any evidence against him.

But he thought about it.

Robbing a thief is great!

These people should be the core members of Nathan's team and know their identities.

Who cares if you have any evidence!

Killing them all.

Doesn't that mean there is no evidence?

That's a big deal.

After the memory merges, we can clean up the remaining potential hidden dangers!

And as a black policeman, I will definitely not take my own gun when participating in the robbery, so I won’t even need to destroy the traces later.

Thinking of this.

Dean raised his pistol, aimed at the dying Nathan, and emptied the magazine again

Kill seven people in a row.

The strong smell of blood, gunpowder, and marijuana mixed together, making people sick.

Dean rubbed his head, which began to become confused due to the memory fusion, took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, then picked up a backpack that had been prepared long ago from the side and stuffed money into it.

A US dollar weighed about one gram.

Most of these US dollars were in denominations of twenty, and only a small number were in denominations of one hundred. As for five, ten, and fifty, there was not a single one.

The money added up to more than 100,000.

More than three million US dollars, adding up to no less than two hundred pounds.

Dean filled two large backpacks in a row before he finished loading the money.

As the saying goes, killing people to silence them and destroying the body to destroy the traces.

Although Dean's mind was a little confused now, as a professional scavenger, he was still skilled in his job.

He wiped the gun in his hand clean and put it in the hands of one of them, then searched for documents and communication equipment that might reveal their identity information, smashed and destroyed them, and put them together. He also took a half-meter-high oil drum from the truck outside the house and started to clean up the traces.

Boom~

The raging fire set the wooden house on fire.

There was an open space around the wooden house.

After Dean confirmed that the fire would not cause a forest fire, he looked at the address on his driver's license, started the pickup truck, and drove towards the forest trail.

ps:

Welcome to join the pit, you can read the author's words.

The golden finger appears at the end of Chapter 11.

In addition, the case officially begins after Chapter 16.

I have also written millions of words and produced some small masterpieces. I don't say how well I write, but at least I won't poison you. Please rest assured to enjoy it.

In addition, due to translation issues.

The names of positions and titles in the Detective Bureau are somewhat different.

For details, please refer to the relevant works.

The author is writing about a parallel world, and the readers are also reading the story, so please stop arguing about these things.

Here, the same thing may have many names.

Not to mention the confusing early translations.

So for the setting problem, for the sake of the straightforwardness of the novel, please follow my example.