Jack accelerated to 120 kiloters per hour. In his previous life, he had watched many PIT videos of Arican police online, especially certain state trooper series, which were the most exciting. But now that he was the one in charge, it wasn't so pleasant.
It wasn't just about knocking the other person over; if it caused a virus leak, he couldn't very well treat everyone present one by one.
Fortunately, the other driver wasn't a seasoned veteran and showed no signs of defensive driving. The road leading to the airport was also very dilapidated, making it difficult to pick up speed. The previous speed had been maintained at around 80 to 90 kiloters per hour.
Perhaps because the airport was closed, there were fewer and fewer vehicles on this dilapidated road. Jack felt the ti was right. Seeing that the front of the police car was parallel to the middle and rear of the blue BMW, he gently turned the steering wheel to the right, blocking the left rear wheel of the BMW.
The blue BMW imdiately went out of control, veering to the left, but its rear half was blocked by Jack's car, causing it to slide uncontrollably to the right. The driver instinctively slamd on the brakes in a panic, the tires screeching against the pavent before coming to a stop sideways less than 5 ters from the traffic light at the intersection ahead, leaving a long skid mark.
Jack had slamd on the brakes the mont he successfully perford the PIT, creating a distance of about ten ters between himself and the out-of-control BMW. The fact that the other car hadn't fired during the chase didn't an it didn't have automatic weapons; after all, terrorists aren't petty thieves. It's reasonable for them to have so automatic weapons if they're planning a terrorist attack.
Now, only Nolan and his team were in one police car following closely behind; the others wouldn't arrive for at least two or three minutes. If there were two people in the other car, each ard with an AK-47 or sothing, two police cars and four Glock pistols might not be enough to suppress them.
As the saying goes, what you fear most is what happens. Jack and Angela got out of the car and, just as they were about to use the two reinforced front doors as cover to call out, an AR-556 rifle erged from the driver's side window of the opposite vehicle and began firing at them.
A terrorist also got out of the passenger seat, carrying a travel bag containing the virus and wielding a Scorpion submachine gun, imdiately bringing Nolan's police car to a stop.
In an instant, the empty street beca a battlefield of gunfire. Jack and Angela, only carrying pistols, dared not expect the two so-called bulletproof doors to stop rifle bullets. They scrambled to the back of the car, sandwiching Wesley, who had just taken refuge there, between them.
"I think we need to install a gun rack between the driver's and passenger's seats," Jack said, sowhat annoyed. He opened the trunk, ducked down, and pulled out an AR-15 and two magazines, tossing them to Angela.
Angela was attaching ceramic plates to her bulletproof vest when she took the rifle. Seeing Jack ready, the two simultaneously slamd on the trunk lid, and the two AR-15s began firing in quick succession, instantly sending the terrorists fleeing in terror, hiding behind the engine compartnt of the car.
Wesley, crouching between the two, scread in pain from the spent cartridges ejected from the AR-15's ejection port, and an impatient Angela grabbed his head and pulled him behind her.
Soon, Nolan and Nyla also retrieved their rifles, and the tide of battle turned. A fleet of police cars from the Wilshire Precinct arrived with sirens blaring, and the two terrorists were forced to surrender.
A rare, unfortunate event occurred: a bus was coming from the right-hand intersection to the left. The bus driver, an idiot, was nodding and listening to music when he realized the situation was dire and slamd on the brakes, but it was too late. He ended up stopping the bus behind the BMW that had blocked his way.
"Cease fire! Cease fire!"
Even without the order from Commander Grey, who had just arrived, all officers on the scene ceased firing. The bus had co to a stop precisely within the police's firing range, directly behind the two terrorists.
The passengers on the bus looked out the left window in terror. Less than 20 ters away, a dozen or so officers from the Wilshire Precinct, who had just arrived, were pointing various types of rifles at them.
"What the hell?"
Jack had just changed his magazine and looked up, completely bewildered. He was about to try and get a headshot using his red dot sight when the terrorists, sensing the police were hesitant to fire, changed their magazines again, and the AR-556 opened fire once more.
Then a group of police officers could only watch helplessly as the terrorist with the travel bag, under the cover of his accomplice, used his gun to force the stupid bus driver to open the door and jump onto the bus.
Another terrorist emptied a magazine, threw away his AR-556, drew his pistol and fired a few more shots, then fled, disappearing around the corner in the blink of an eye.
"This is serious trouble," Jack muttered, reopening the trunk, taking out two towels, wetting them with bottled water, and tossing one to Angela.
To others, this might be a psychological comfort, but if they really got infected, how could they explain that neither of them was infected and could bla it all on those two towels? Whether the CDC guys believed it or not was up to them.
"I'll draw their attention, you shoot when the ti is right, make sure it's a one-shot kill," Jack whispered to Angela, confident in her marksmanship.
"Angela, this is too dangerous," Wesley, who had been held back by his girlfriend, couldn't help but speak up, sounding worried.
Angela's expression was slightly conflicted. An ordinary patrol officer might have hesitated; after all, earning a modest salary, why risk their life?
But she was part of the main group, her sense of responsibility far exceeding that of ordinary police officers. Besides, she was about to beco a full-fledged detective, and with rookie officer Jack leading the charge, she, as his partner, couldn't abandon him.
"It's my duty," she replied curtly to her boyfriend, and followed.
Jack wasn't too worried. He hadn't seen the Scorpion pistol being reloaded, so it probably only had a few rounds left. The power of 7.65 caliber pistol rounds wasn't that great; given the guy's haphazard shooting style, the possibility of accidentally injuring passengers was actually higher.
He was currently wearing a bulletproof vest with ceramic plates, which should withstand a few bullets without much problem. As long as he wasn't hit in the head, he didn't need to worry.
With that thought in mind, Jack slung his AR-15 over his shoulder, pulled out his Glock again, checked the magazine, and then carefully boarded the bus.
anwhile, so of Nolan and Nyla's colleagues from the Wilshire Precinct followed on foot to pursue the other terrorist, while the rest surrounded the bus in police cars.
Angela, who was following behind Jack, suddenly seed to rember sothing, tugged at Jack, signaling him to stop, and ran to Commander Grey, whispering sothing. The stern-faced commander nodded, indicating he understood.
When Angela returned to Jack's side, Jack continued his operation, making a peek from the steps. The terrorist on the bus fell for it, firing several rounds directly at the front of the bus, followed by the clicking sound of empty magazines locking up.
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