"No matter how eloquently you speak, your actions are a betrayal of the country! After raising you for so many years, is this how you treat your motherland?"
The overweight officer, deeply influenced by the aristocratic elite’s education, had a disdain from the bottom of his heart for this group of proletariat living at the bottom. He believed their existence tarnished the name of Britain, and he regarded the "petitioning" workers with an arrogant sneer.
"Fuck your mom! You fat pig!" Some hot-headed workers among the petitioners couldn’t help but snap back with a classic curse.
Soon after, more and more people in the crowd started to curse the overweight officer and his family.
Watching the riled-up crowd, Jerome Bonaparte shrugged helplessly. The overweight officer’s arrogance not only failed to ease the current tense atmosphere but also intensified the conflict further, exemplifying incompetence and failure.
The angry shouts of the workers gathered into a wave of sound attacking the overweight officer and his subordinates.
They say when a thousand point fingers, even the strongest falter.
The wave of insults from nearly two hundred voices evidently terrified the overweight officer and his policemen.
Facing the aggressive workers, the overweight officer couldn’t help but take a small step back, hiding behind a formal officer, slightly curling his upper body and shouting in a feigned authoritative voice, "You’d better disperse now, or else the military will move into London! They’ll eliminate you all!"
The overweight officer’s baseless threat caused a certain level of chaos among the workers’ group. To ordinary people, the military represented a massive violent machine, capable of crushing them without mercy.
"The military?" The workers’ leader responded slowly, "According to Minister Pier’s Police Act of 1829, the military does not normally intervene! We are merely petitioning the City Hall, not launching a riot! There’s no way the military will intervene! Comrades, don’t worry, he’s just bluffing!"
The leader’s words clearly gave the workers confidence, and some workers who had wanted to quit the petition upon hearing of the military’s involvement regained their resolve.
"You damned fellow!" the overweight officer cursed quietly at the worker leader organizing the petition.
It seemed the current situation was beyond what he, as the district police chief, could handle. Only the officials from City Hall, or even the ministers from Downing Street, could solve this.
"If you all just go home quietly, I’ll report your petition to City Hall. Go home!"
The overweight officer’s tone shifted from firm to negotiating—he still wanted to prevent the workers from entering the West District.
"Sir!" The leader said impatiently, "We are tired of your rhetoric, always telling us to wait! How long must we wait? Until our anger is worn away by time, until our lives fade away, and you, immersed in your world of luxury, finally decide to solve the problem? By then, you’ll likely only shed a couple of fake tears and continue your life unchanged! We refuse to wait any longer and will fight for our rights through our actions!"
"I..." The overweight officer opened his mouth but didn’t know what to say, having no other means left to stall the rioters.
"Officer! For God’s sake, let us through, or bring those City Hall people here! Stop wasting our time!"
The leader’s demand wasn’t unreasonable, but the overweight officer couldn’t make City Hall come, nor could he even bring his superior, the metropolitan police chief, to assess the situation.
These normally docile rioters had, under someone’s instigation, become beasts wanting to devour people, and usual intimidation and threats were now completely ineffective.
Damn it, they weren’t even afraid of the police anymore—these weren’t ordinary citizens!
Now wasn’t the time to hesitate; decisive action was necessary.
At this crucial moment, the overweight officer uncharacteristically gritted his teeth and gave the order, "Load the bullet!"
The vigilantes and police, surprised by the overweight officer’s order, realized loading bullets would only further ignite the already heated atmosphere.
"Those damn bastards want to kill us!"
"Kill these government lackeys!"
The overweight officer’s order further heightened the intense atmosphere, and the workers began growing more agitated under the heated provocation.
Some workers even stood alongside the leader, pressuring the vigilantes and police.
Under this silent pressure, a young vigilante finally succumbed and pulled the trigger.
With a "bang," a puff of white smoke rose from the muzzle of the musket, the round-headed bullet propelled by black powder shot towards the workers in an instant.
A heart-wrenching scream came from the workers’ line as blood flowed from the shoulder of one worker at the front, who fell to the ground clutching his shoulder in unbearable pain.
This unexpected turn of events escalated the police and workers’ confrontation from verbal to physical conflict.
Almost all the workers glared resentfully at the overweight officer.
"Who told you to shoot!" The overweight officer glared at the shooting vigilante with a murderous look and shouted angrily.
"I... I..." The vigilante’s hands trembled uncontrollably, and the overweight officer’s angry outburst made him drop the musket with a "thud."
"You damned lapdogs! Go to hell!"
The injury of a fellow worker meant the workers’ group was no longer restrained, and they quickly approached the police line.
In their eyes, one could see resentment and murder intent.
"Shoot! Shoot!" The panicked overweight officer tried to get the police to open fire once more.
"Fuck! You stupid pig!" Jerome Bonaparte couldn’t help but curse loudly.
Faced with the workers only a dozen meters away, Jerome decisively abandoned the cumbersome revolver and chose the Blackthorn Staff for his counterattack.
Although he was sympathetic to the workers, if he didn’t defend himself now, the enraged workers would tear him to pieces.
"Follow me, George!" Jerome Bonaparte shouted to George John, who was startled awake.
With the Blackthorn Staff in hand, Jerome Bonaparte let go of the rope tied around Ham and launched a counterattack against the worker group.