Chapter 57: Accident Scene
"If we're talking about heavy artillery, sure, that's impractical to carry. But if it's a high-performance weapon with moderate caliber, explosive rounds, portability, and decent accuracy, I think anyone would be interested."
Ron's tone was like a devil whispering temptation. Hank's expression was no longer as confident as before. He was already imagining the scenario Ron described, and when he looked at the VSS in his hands, there was a hint of disdain.
"But does a weapon like that actually exist?" Hank asked hopefully.
"Absolutely! Allow me to introduce you to a weapon from across the Pacific, possessing the advanced engineering of modern warfare—the China Lake 40mm sniper grenade launcher."
Ron unconsciously adopted the sales pitch he'd learned from watching arms dealer movies: "Manufactured by specialized defense contractors, maximum range of 2,200 meters, effective range of 1,000 meters, total weight of 55 pounds. Fed by a revolving cylinder with a 6-round capacity. Trust me, this is what a real designated marksman should be using."
"But a weapon system like that... I mean, wouldn't the grenade launcher be extremely expensive? Can our budget handle it?" Hank was proving to be a responsible employee, always considering his boss's finances.
Ron finally revealed his wicked grin, showing his true intentions. "Of course it's pricey, but for my valued team members, I'm willing to make the investment through my arms dealer contacts. However, your bonus might take a small hit—you don't mind, do you?"
This was America, the heart of capitalism. As an aspiring capitalist himself, what kind of boss would he be if he didn't squeeze some savings from his employees?
"Absolutely not! I'd gladly give up three months' bonus just to get my hands on that!" Hank said hastily, worried Ron might change his mind.
Comparison was the thief of joy. He might have thought a sniper rifle with submachine gun-like rapid fire and minimal recoil was decent, but now with the weapon Ron described, his heart was racing with excitement.
"One month's bonus will cover it. Don't worry, I promise you'll see it tomorrow," Ron pledged.
He could dock Hank's bonus for one month—specifically the month with the highest performance incentive—and then, thanks to his connections with defense contractors, buy it at a discount, saving at least $5,000 in expenses.
Unfortunately, Ron had no idea what office equipment Andy particularly wanted, and he hadn't figured out how to convince him to sacrifice his bonus; otherwise, he could have saved even more money.
Ron mentally patted himself on the back for his fiscal responsibility. It was a shame Toretto was no longer in Los Angeles; otherwise, he could have helped with some vehicle modifications.
Day 41 without Toretto, and he missed him. Still missed him.
After dropping Hank off at home, Ron didn't head back to his place. Instead, he drove to Beverly Hills to pick up his mother, who was visiting the Tuohys, and Michael, the big kid the Tuohys had taken in.
Ron had originally planned to take Michael to his father's football tryout in Texas, but since his mother was heading back and had expressed her genuine affection for Michael over the phone, Ron was happy to have some free time.
However, just as they reached Rodeo Drive, there was a traffic accident at the intersection ahead. A delivery truck had T-boned a pickup truck, forcing police to respond and partially block the road, causing a major backup.
"Hey there, I'm on the job!" Ron lifted the police tape, showed his federal badge to the officer and said, "What's the situation here?"
"Good afternoon, Agent!" The police officer saluted Ron respectfully. "You're not gonna believe this, but this massive guy who's nearly six-and-a-half feet tall and looks older than my dad is actually a high school student who just got his license. He was driving the vehicle that got hit.
This kid is incredible. He managed to protect the little white boy in the passenger seat during the impact. The child wasn't injured at all. Can you believe that, sir? Not a scratch!"
The officer spoke with genuine amazement, and Ron listened with growing recognition. A giant Black high school student who looked older than his father? And a little white boy? It couldn't be such a coincidence, could it?
"Mind if I check on them? I think they might be people I know."
"Of course, they're right over there, sir." The officer casually pointed Ron in the right direction. Next to the ambulance, SJ was chatting with a paramedic. Knowing the kid, Ron figured he was probably just showing off.
Not far away, on some concrete steps and out of SJ's line of sight, big Michael was crying, shaking his head and refusing the EMT's treatment. The attractive female medic stood by looking frustrated.
What a gentle soul! No wonder the Tuohys were willing to adopt him. Ron shook his head and walked toward the blood-covered SJ.
"Hey there, kiddo. I was gonna ask if you were okay, but you look fine?" Ron was puzzled. The officer had clearly said the white boy was uninjured.
"Of course I am. You think blood just magically appears on clothes?" SJ proudly lifted his shirt to show Ron his torso, which was completely free of wounds.
"I figured you were half-dead. Anyway, you finish talking to the paramedic first. I'll go check on Michael." Ron said reassuringly and turned to leave.
After Ron walked away, the paramedic immediately started asking about Ron and SJ's relationship and contact information. SJ muttered indignantly: "I'm pretty good-looking too, you know. Sure you don't want to consider being my girlfriend? I can share half my Halloween candy."
"Ha!" The paramedic laughed so hard she doubled over and kissed SJ on the forehead: "Maybe I'll consider it when you're a little older, but you're too young right now."
"Mind if I give it a shot?" Ron suggested to the female EMT: "Hey Michael, look up at me. Do you remember who I am?"
"I remember you. You're Annie's son, Mr. Tuohy's friend. She said your whole family are good people." Michael raised his tear-streaked face to look at Ron: "This is all my fault! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't protect SJ..."
Big Michael broke down crying again, consumed with self-blame.
"Hey! Listen to me!" Ron said firmly, and Michael's tears stopped momentarily. "You did an outstanding job. SJ isn't hurt at all. You're almost the perfect big brother, you know that? But do you know what you're still missing?"
Michael, drawn in by Ron's words, shook his head.
"You haven't set a good example yet! A good big brother should be a role model for his little brother, and I've never seen a role model who lets himself bleed all over the place like you're doing right now. Is this how you want SJ to handle things in the future?"
Michael fell silent and shook his head again. The female EMT approached, and Michael finally calmed down and stopped refusing treatment.
(End of Chapter)
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