Corrupt Cops Picked The Wrong Man

On my first day as a civilian, two cops stopped me without reason. I showed them my ID, but they snatched it, manhandled me, and tore into my backpack. I stayed calm, not wanting trouble—but after searching my bag, they began searching me.

When I lifted my shirt, they spotted my military knife and panicked. I explained I had a legal permit, but they still seized it and slapped me with a bogus weapons charge. Then they started swinging their batons. I dodged every strike, but when one drew his gun, I had no choice but to surrender.

At the station, the interrogation began with violence. Without a word, an officer beat me with his baton, and when he pulled out a Taser, I finally snapped—headbutting him and kicking the Taser away. A younger cop stepped in, stopping the attack.

When the chief learned I was a recently retired Special Forces soldier, his attitude flipped instantly. He ordered my handcuffs removed, returned my belongings, and tried to smooth things over with an apology. But his office décor gave him away—rare antiques and expensive collectibles. This guy was as corrupt as his men.

Before I left, he leaned in and whispered a threat: “This town is mine. Keep your mouth shut.” I ignored him and walked out.

In the hallway, I saw a girl I’d met once before. She went into the chief’s office, paying protection money. The chief had other intentions. As I returned for my forgotten iPad, I caught him cornering her.

As a soldier, I couldn’t look away. When he barked at me to leave, I’d had enough. I snapped his finger, dropped him with two punches, grabbed an ashtray, ripped out a phone cord, took the girl’s hand, and headed out.

A cop walked in—I knocked him out with one hit. More officers rushed in, but I dismantled them one by one, stripping their weapons. While escaping with the girl, we ran into three more thugs, but I handled them in seconds.

Another officer tried to stop me with a baton, but my fists were faster. I fought my way through the entire station.

At the entrance, a few cops were smoking. I walked up calmly, lit one’s cigarette, grabbed one for myself, and strolled out of the station like nothing happened.