Free Web NovelChapter 50: Chapter 50: War of Revenge
Renee Jennings turned to look at Quentin Lowell, her eyes bright and composed. "Director Lowell, please begin."
Quentin Lowell smiled warmly. "Miss Jennings, feel free to improvise."
Renee Jennings raised an eyebrow slightly, took a fountain pen from the pen holder, and placed it on her open palm. "Inky, help me give this pen to Director Lowell."
"Alright!" Upon receiving the command, Inky deftly adjusted its altitude, precisely snatched the fountain pen from Renee’s palm with its sharp talons, and then flew straight toward Quentin Lowell.
It hovered in front of Quentin Lowell. When he didn’t move, it turned back to tell Renee, "Renee, tell him to hold out his left hand."
The smile in Renee’s eyes deepened. "Alright."
’Inky specifically asking Quentin Lowell to use his left hand was another way of proving its intelligence.’
’What a smart little robin.’
"Director Lowell, Inky said to hold out your left hand. It’ll give you the pen," Renee relayed.
However, Quentin Lowell didn’t extend his left hand. Instead, he deliberately held out his right, a hint of a test in the gesture.
Upon seeing this, Renee raised a slender eyebrow.
Inky circled in the air. Its small, glossy black eyes darted about for a moment, and after careful deliberation, it decisively flew back to Renee’s side, still clutching the pen.
A look of surprise flashed across Quentin Lowell’s face. "Why did it fly back?"
Inky tattled indignantly, "Renee, this human isn’t honest! I told him to use his left hand, and he used his right!"
"Director Lowell," Renee said, her calm voice laced with a knowing tone. "The intelligence of animals can be quite surprising. They can tell left from right. It came back because you used your right hand."
Quentin Lowell blinked, lowered his right hand, and held up his left palm.
Only then did Inky gently drop the pen into his left palm.
Having witnessed Renee’s interaction with the robin firsthand, Quentin Lowell was now completely convinced of her words. A grave expression settled on his face as an invisible weight, heavy as a boulder, pressed down on his heart.
He called Henry Stark into his office and, with a serious expression, assigned him the important mission. "Miss Jennings knows the location of the dogfighting ring. She’ll be assisting your operation. Her safety is your top priority."
Henry Stark’s expression was grim. "Understood."
**
Night enveloped the city. A convoy of police cars drove through the gloom toward the outskirts.
The dogfighting ring was located in the suburbs, surrounded by overgrown weeds. Beyond its high walls, the grounds were a mess. Stolen dogs were imprisoned in rust-spotted wire cages.
They were crammed into the cages, their bodies covered in wounds, their eyes dull and lifeless.
Several thugs stood guard, smoking cigarettes and scrolling through videos on their phones.
The sound of a rowdy crowd spilled from a blue, corrugated iron shed nearby, punctuated by the faint sound of dogs barking.
Inky returned from its scouting mission, flying in through the open window of the police car and folding its wings to land on Renee’s shoulder. "Renee, there are a lot of people inside that blue shed, and four humans outside."
It then added, "Oh, and I found Eggy. It’s injured, too."
Renee frowned slightly.
Tutu grew agitated as well.
Renee stroked its head soothingly before relaying Inky’s report to Henry Stark.
Henry Stark met her gaze and said in a low voice, "Understood."
He radioed the situation at the dogfighting ring to his team. After getting a response, he gave the command in a grim voice, "Prepare to move."
Henry Stark got out of the car. Noticing Renee opening her door, he frowned. "Miss Jennings, you and Sawyer are to stay in the car and wait for us."
"Don’t worry, I can handle myself." Renee had already haggled with the system, preparing to exchange 15 points for an hour of Combat Power.
She wanted to do her part to save the dogs.
But Henry Stark wouldn’t hear of it. "Director Lowell was very clear. We must ensure your safety."
Renee sighed and relented. "I understand."
All the officers checked their gear. With weapons in hand, their expressions stern and their eyes resolute, they cautiously approached the dogfighting ring.
Under the cover of darkness, some of the officers quickly surrounded the compound, sealing off all possible exits.
Henry Stark led the main team to the base of the wall and scaled it with agile movements.
The lookout, a thug with bleached-blond hair nicknamed Blondie, sensed something was off and glanced around suspiciously.
The moment he saw a uniformed police officer, Blondie’s expression changed. Terror filled his eyes, but before he could shout, a powerful arm wrapped around his neck, and his eyes rolled back as he passed out.
Another officer immediately took Blondie from Henry Stark’s grasp.
Henry Stark immediately moved on, choking out a second thug.
All four lookouts were subdued. Everything had been going smoothly, but then the unexpected happened.
A middle-aged man walked out of the blue tin shed and happened to see the scene. He panicked and bellowed, "Cops! The cops are here! Run!"
Hearing this, the gamblers in the stands began scrambling for chips and Cash, scattering in all directions.
When the dogfighting ring’s staff heard what was happening, their expressions changed instantly. They exchanged glances; some grabbed weapons, others grabbed money.
A few of the dog handlers even released their vicious dogs, hoping they would attack the police. freēwēbnovel.com
The boss of the dogfighting ring had a thumb-sized scar on his left cheek, earning him the name Scar.
He pulled out a machete and charged toward the entrance of the ring. "Anyone who dares to mess with my turf gets the blade!"
Scar even tried to incite the gamblers. "Whoever takes down one of these cops gets half of this whole operation!"
At these words, the fleeing gamblers’ eyes went red with greed. They stopped running and began frantically searching for anything to use as a weapon.
Most of the people at the ring were desperados. When they couldn’t find weapons, they started throwing punches, attacking the officers with reckless abandon.
As more people joined the brawl, the situation devolved into chaos. Henry Stark’s face was grim as iron. Just as he was about to draw his gun, a wave of furious barking suddenly erupted.
Someone had released the imprisoned dogs. They shot into the ring like arrows loosed from a bow, viciously tearing into the thugs who had once abused them.
A chorus of screams rose and fell within the ring, shattering the silence of the night, each cry filled with terror and despair.
It was a last-stand counterattack by the oppressed, a long-suppressed war of revenge waged by the wounded dogs.
Realizing the dogs were only attacking their former abusers, the officers slowly backed out of the ring, watching the scene unfold with mixed emotions.
Henry Stark’s brows knitted tightly. As he stepped out of the ring, he caught sight of a figure quietly slipping away. A flash of understanding crossed his deep eyes.
Inside the ring, the thugs and gamblers lay on the ground like spineless grubs, barely breathing.
Their bodies were covered in a network of scratches and bite marks, their clothes soaked in blood. It was a pathetic sight.
Henry Stark returned to the police car, his deep eyes fixed on the girl in the back seat.
Meeting the man’s appraising gaze, Renee blinked and calmly asked, "What is it?"
"You’re the one who let those dogs out." His tone wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact.
Renee’s gaze was steady as she said softly, "I believe it was their right."
