The Wolf of Los Angeles

[Chapter 327: Molotov Cocktail]

The sky had turned black.

At the entrance of the VIP terminal, dozens of media reporters and a hundred-person protest team blocked Antonio's way.

The reporters were direct but professional, their questions sharp but not insulting.

In contrast, the protesters hurled curses at Antonio, many of whom were once his supporters. Their homes had burned down, and after watching the online and televised reports revealing the truth behind the disaster, they were furious at the mayor, who they blamed for the chaos. It didn't take long for the anger to boil over, with demands for accountability echoing in the air.

Antonio knew all too well that he had to defend himself. He raised his voice, "Hundreds of firefighters are risking everything to put out the flames, and the citizens must do their part! You have to understand something: disaster response is not solely the government's responsibility. That's a socialist concept!"

Antonio recognized that the fire was out of control and knew he had to force the citizens to face reality. "The city doesn't owe you anything! Stop expecting the government to do everything for you. You need to be part of the solution, not a part of the problem!"

The crowd fell silent, taken aback by his words. A black Cadillac pulled up, and Antonio quickly got in and left the airport. Los Angeles International Airport sat in the southwest, far from the fires blazing in the northern neighborhoods.

...

"Gordon, gather the police chief, fire chief, transportation department, and health department leaders for a meeting. I want them all at City Hall in one hour," Antonio instructed his assistant. After a brief pause, he added, "Los Angeles is running low on water. The northern region isn't experiencing drought. Get in touch with the state legislature and the northern cities to activate the water support program. Also, coordinate with the Water Bank -- we need water urgently."

Gordon took notes, nodding in agreement.

...

The night in Los Angeles split into two: the northern region was lit up with flickering flames while the southern part was cloaked in darkness. Communities like Compton, Watts, and Willowbrook erupted with activity as too many people poured out onto the streets. They had heard about a way to get free supplies and donned black clothing, driving their rundown vehicles north in what seemed a mass migration.

Wealthy neighborhoods lay to the west and north, where the middle to upper classes had retreated. Meanwhile, the primary settlements of African American communities remained in South Los Angeles. Thousands of people capitalized on the chaos, intent on looting at the expense of the city. Some even reached areas near Twitter's headquarters, only to be scared off by fully armed security personnel.

...

Late that night, Hawke spoke to Edward, saying, "Get the word out. Tonight is the only chance. Antonio's back in Los Angeles, and he's going to crack down on business districts and wealthy neighborhoods."

Edward made a call and relayed to Hawke, "They've come up with a solid strategy."

...

In north Santa Monica, Campos, Juan, Carlos, Garcia, Hierro, and Fiona all dressed in black, slipping on specially made black gloves and using black paint to hide their exposed skin. The wind had picked up dramatically since the evening, edging closer to the 50 miles per hour predicted by the California Institute of Technology meteorologists.

Driving stolen pickup trucks, Campos and the group spread out to draw the crowds. Their plan for the night was to have a large group lead the charge. Betty kept a watchful eye on a newly emerging gang from Watts, each member seeking valuable targets. Under Campos's direction, they approached these gang members from Watts, claiming there was a spot nearby where cash and valuables were commonly left unguarded -- a score that could equal looting twenty suburban homes.

The gang from Watts had come out prepared for a night of making money, instinct guiding them to this path. After reaching the Ackerman Foundation's northern edge, Campos led several of the group into a nearby high-rise. The makeshift fire site had already been evacuated, but from the height, they could see the brightly lit Ackerman Foundation headquarters in the distance.

"A lot of guards, but you know there's probably something valuable inside," one said, glancing through binoculars. "But there's too many of them; what if they have weapons?"

"It's a charity foundation," Campos said, smirking. "They get large donations daily. I worked there before; they usually take cash to the bank on Fridays. Today is Thursday -- perfect timing."

The gang member replied, "What if they have guns?"

Campos scoffed, "You can't tell me you all don't have guns. What would you even be doing in Los Angeles if you didn't?"

As the conversation progressed, one revealed an M1911 tucked under their shirt. Their desire for quick money tempered by caution, he retorted, "Even if we're armed, charging them is just asking to get shot."

"Did you notice the convenience store on the first floor?" Campos countered. "They definitely sell liquor and snacks. If we haul some high-proof alcohol, sugar, butter, and gasoline, we can make one hell of a Molotov cocktail!"

The gang member who had seen countless movies perked up, "You mean we can make Molotov cocktails?"

Campos snapped his fingers, "Which would you rather do: haul away secondhand furniture or score big tonight?"

"Let's hit the convenience store!" the gang member agreed, heading down the stairs.

...

They smashed through the doors of the store and grabbed bottles of high-proof vodka, sugar, and butter. With intentions already set for an arson spree, they brought plenty of gasoline along.

Before long, the group had created dozens of makeshift incendiary devices.

...

Leading their pack, Campos drove toward the south and the Ackerman Foundation headquarters in a caravan of more than ten vehicles.

One member navigated around to the back, while Campos led the front attack. Close to the compound's wall, Juan lit one of the burning bottles and threw it over the top. It soared into the yard and ignited upon impact, flames roaring to life as glass shattered.

Then, a dozen Molotov cocktails were thrown into the foundation from different locations.

Almost at the same time, Garcia and Carlos also instigated the group from Watts to come over. Without saying a word, these people threw Molotov cocktails at the entrance of the foundation.

With flames threatening, the security team had long since evacuated, leaving only a few guards behind.

The two security guards shouted warnings and even drew their guns.

Despite warnings and drawn guns, the frenzy of those looting surged forward. It wasn't long before a series of gunshots rang out, and chaos prevailed.

On a tall building not far away, Morentes, wrapped in black clothes, picked up the bullet shell and put it in his pocket.

At this moment, hundreds of Molotov cocktails had been thrown into the yard of the Ackerman Foundation.

Once the flame is blown by the wind, it is impossible for human power to extinguish it. The security guard who originally wanted to put out the fire quickly left the fire scene.

Strong winds fanned the flames and ignited the green belt. In this special terrain, changes in air flow formed small-scale tornadoes.

The glass of the two office buildings shattered, and curtains and other things were the first to catch fire.

Buildings in the Los Angeles area use too much wood. If the flame gets slightly out of control, it can turn into a major fire.

The security personnel had seen a lot of fires in Los Angeles in the media in recent days, so after a little hesitation, they chose to run away. If you don't run, you might be burned to death here.

The looters, emboldened by the prospect of free goods, pushed further into the building.

Campos and his group moved into the finance office, fast in and out, not lingering. By the time the police sirens blared, they had vanished from the scene.

LAPD resources were stretched thin, primarily covering affluent neighborhoods, and the chaos kept the forces off-balance. South Los Angeles remained calm while the north burned. The destruction only intensified a cleansing fire suffocating the city.

...

As dawn broke, the scorched area in Los Angeles exceeded two hundred square kilometers, with northern Santa Monica reduced to blackened earth. The Ackerman Foundation's headquarters lay in smoldering ruins.

...

Antonio held court at City Hall, besieged with bad news. The fire department was short-staffed, low on water, and lacking proper equipment. Female firefighters were exhausted, and many men on the force had begun to work at a leisurely pace, fearing they would be injured and suffer the same bad things as the 9/11 firefighters. Even more alarming, a number of male firefighters left at the end of their shifts while fighting the blazes, abandoning their posts in a show of defiance over benefits being redirected to the women's department.

As for the fire? "We can tackle it tomorrow when the workday starts."

Wonderful Water Bank denied the city's requests for support as Antonio made direct appeals, even calling Stuart Resnick personally, only to be met with a hard line. The resounding response remained the same: severe drought conditions plagued Southern California, and while the company felt sympathy for the fire situation in Los Angeles, they could do nothing about it.

The water bank, controlling the majority of fresh water resources in Los Angeles, stood firm in its resolve. Amid the turmoil, Washington turned its attention to Los Angeles.

*****

/Sayonara816.