The Wolf of Los Angeles-Chapter 452: The First Shot

[Chapter 452: The First Shot]

Los Angeles, once a fertile land of California, was engulfed in fierce flames last year, turning into a scene of smoke and chaos, was deserted by people.

Standing in the residential area north of Hollywood Hills, Mills noticed construction companies rebuilding many houses in the distance.

He looked down at the ground beneath his feet, still covered in black ashes.

This was the spot where his home burned down.

Mills went to where his living room used to be in his memory, knelt on one knee, and touched the blackened soil. Tears suddenly rolled down, one by one, soaking into the parched earth.

The house was gone, but the land was still there.

No, even the land was gone, taken over by the bank.

Damn capitalist bastards.

Mills took a photo from his bag, showing a middle-aged couple -- his parents.

"This was our home," Mills said, pulling out a small shovel from his bag. He dug into the ground with force, making a pit over a foot deep, and placed his parents' photo inside.

He buried the pit, pressed the blackened earth firmly with his hands, and whispered, "May you rest in peace in heaven."

A gust of wind blew, carrying dust in all directions.

Mills packed up his shovel, slung his bag over his shoulder, got into his car, and drove south.

...

On the way, someone called him, and after a brief conversation, Mills arrived at Melrose Plaza and visited a small law firm, where he met two men.

One was a mixed-race man, resembling a blend of white, Asian, and Latino descent.

The other was a white man with short blonde hair, a lawyer who had reached out to Mills last year to offer legal help.

Mills sat down and directly asked, "Why did you call me here?"

Pearson replied, "I just came from court. Since you hired me as your lawyer, there are some updates I need to share with you promptly."

Mills nodded silently.

While investigating the insurance companies involved in the Los Angeles fire, Pearson had selected some candidates from many contract copies, considering Mills as a key client.

This guy had suffered greatly and was young and impulsive, easy to manipulate.

During the days-long Los Angeles fire, Mills' father was caught in the chaos at night when the fire passed. He had a car accident and was hit by a car with fake plates, dying and leaving Mills and his mother alone.

Mills and his mother escaped the fire and survived until it ended, but their misfortune was just beginning.

They were a slightly better-off middle-class family, having purchased their detached villa with a mortgage.

As everyone knew, the bank loans on houses destroyed by fire still had to be repaid.

Originally, Mills' family had purchased home insurance from Eunice Insurance Company, but when trying to claim compensation, they found that Eunice Insurance had gone bankrupt.

All that remained were some second-hand office equipment.

The family's car and small savings were all taken by the bank.

When someone has bad luck, it often gets worse.

Mills' mother's company was also severely affected by the fire. The boss fled overseas when the company couldn't survive.

Under heavy pressure and continuous blows, Mills' mother chose to end her life.

Mills, who had just entered college, had to drop out.

The sparks scattered by the big players, a speck of dust falling on ordinary people's heads, weighed like the Himalayas.

Mills' family was neither the first nor the last to go bankrupt from the Los Angeles fire.

Pearson already knew Mills' situation and said, "The situation with Eunice Insurance is very complicated. Even if you win a lawsuit through normal legal procedures, you won't get any money. Eunice's accounts have less than five hundred dollars."

Mills asked, "What about their legal representative?" freeweɓnovel.cøm

"He's an ordinary Chinese-American," Pearson roughly said, "Already divorced with no assets under his name."

Mills lowered his head, angry flames burning in his mind: "Can nobody bring those bastards to justice? We clearly signed insurance contracts with them, yet they moved assets and refuse to pay!"

He was just a college dropout: "Is there no one who can hold them accountable?"

Pearson said, "Do you know who Eunice's CEO Thompson is? He's friends with California Governor Schwarzenegger and has close ties with many Southern California politicians. He's a millionaire; the law serves them!"

Mills was no fool and knew this was true.

Pearson continued, "Not just you. Thousands of victims in the Los Angeles fire, many Hollywood stars included. Even if you unite, you can't win the lawsuit because if you do, those billionaires and real big shots would have to pay billions."

He stated the facts: "If they spent just one-thousandth of that money, most media would ignore you, pretending you don't exist. Don't believe in free speech -- it's all a joke! Nearly a year and a half has passed since the fire. You struggled, protested, and spoke out online, but did anyone care?"

Mills closed his eyes, looking mournful: "Are we really nothing to them?"

"Though I'm a lawyer, I'm just disposable to them," Pearson said helplessly, then handed Mills a document.

"This is a receipt from Los Angeles District Court. They investigated Eunice's accounts and found no sign of fund transfers."

Mills glanced at it and said, "I lost my home, and my parents."

Pearson stood, comforting by patting his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Mills asked, "Can't we sue Eunice CEO Thompson directly? Did he not profit from this?"

"He's not the legal representative nor a direct shareholder. I'm powerless," Pearson sighed. "Thompson definitely benefited. We investigated -- since the fire, he bought a 68-foot luxury yacht, three luxury cars, and two mansions, without any other job."

He emphasized, "Thompson lives like a millionaire but refuses to pay even a dime to the victims."

His words provoked Mills, who looked up and blurted, "Where does Thompson live? Where is he?"

Realizing himself, Mills slowed down, trembling, "I just want to see what kind of life that bastard is living."

Pearson shook his head.

The mixed-race man brought a file and placed it before Mills.

Mills took it out and found not only Thompson's info but recent photos -- luxury cars, visits to mansions, and pictures at the marina with the yacht.

The more miserable the victims' lives are, the more lavish the bastards' lives are.

Mills noted the addresses of two mansions from the file and put everything back, returning the folder to Pearson.

Fearing suspicion, he said, "Please keep putting effort into this."

Pearson nodded, "Of course. Helping you is also helping ourselves."

"If there is nothing else, I'm heading out," Mills stood and walked outside.

The mixed-race assistant escorted him out.

Mills got into his car and left Melrose Plaza.

...

Back in the office, once the assistant returned, Pearson took out organized files and said, "Fox News has a very ethical female reporter named Harley Wayne. She has a strong sense of justice and likes to pursue the truth. She uncovered the Ackerman family scandals."

The assistant asked, "Should we give her this information?"

Pearson said, "Find a mailbox and mail it to her, hoping she still has the edge."

The assistant took the materials to do so.

...

Meanwhile, Mills drove to a warehouse district where his parents had rented a small unit last year in his name.

Such warehouses were common in Los Angeles; once overdue, they could be auctioned off.

This had even created a profession of warehouse treasure hunters.

Mills opened the small warehouse resembling a shipping container, pulled down the door, and switched on a flashlight to search carefully.

Soon he found a military knife he bought in high school.

But knowing Thompson was a strong man, a cold weapon might not work, Mills searched further and finally found a Colt revolver in an old bedside drawer.

This old gun had been left by his grandfather.

Mills found a box of bullets and, carrying the gun and knife, left the warehouse. In a remote suburban area, he tested the gun.

With the gunshots cracking, there were three bullet holes a few feet away on a tree trunk.

The gun was usable!

...

Back in the car, Mills grabbed a jacket to conceal the gun, pulled up his hoodie, and drove straight to the address in his memory.

Since the law couldn't provide him justice, he decided to fight for it himself.

Arriving near West Los Angeles close to Santa Monica, Mills, raised in Los Angeles, easily found the community where Thompson lived.

But it was a gated wealthy community that ordinary people couldn't enter.

Mills observed carefully and suddenly saw a familiar shopping mall building nearby and recalled something.

Among the photos Pearson showed him, several were taken on the sidewalk in front of that mall.

In those photos, Thompson was in sportswear, running at night in front of the mall.

He was always alone.

This was a wealthy neighborhood with good security, and many rich people didn't always have bodyguards in daily life.

Fearing attention from the occasionally patrolling LAPD, Mills drove into the mall's underground parking, took the elevator to the first floor, observed the surroundings, and entered the McDonald's near the entrance.

He ordered a burger and fries combo and sat by the window, eating slowly.

From his seat, he could watch the entire road leading to that wealthy community.

*****

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