Campos sensed trouble and immediately dropped to the ground, playing dead.
Stephen Paddock peered through the peephole, saw the security guard fall, assumed he'd killed him, and stopped firing.
But this unexpected turn also altered his plan.
He'd originally intended to act at 10:30 PM when the crowd was at its liveliest; now he had to move early.
10:05 PM.
Martin held Lindsay's hand in one and Ivanka's in the other, the two girls jumping and cheering with the crowd.
On stage, renowned country singer Jason Aldean was performing a high-energy country rock song.
Martin felt a twinge of unease but couldn't pinpoint its source.
Instinctively, he released his magic.
Upstairs, Paddock shattered two hotel windows and extended his gun barrel.
Bang bang bang!
He pulled the trigger without hesitation.
Almost simultaneously with Paddock's first shots, Martin's sense of unease peaked.
Without a second thought, he yanked the two girls toward a concrete pillar by a flower bed and pressed their heads down to crouch.
"What's wrong?"
"What happened?"
At that moment, the gunshots reached their ears.
The girls hadn't reacted yet, assuming it was fireworks.
The festival crowd thought the same.
No one paid attention, continuing the revelry—until the shots rang out densely, and people began bleeding and falling. Then the crowd erupted.
"Damn, those are gunshots," Ivanka said in terror.
"What!" Lindsay's face paled.
"Don't be afraid; I'm here." Martin released magic to soothe the girls, then lifted his head to scan the direction of the shots.
By now, the crowd was starting to stampede.
People scattered, seeking cover, with continuous screams of "Get down!" "Get down!"
"Stay here." Martin had located the shooter's position.
"No, don't go."
"What are you doing? This isn't your job."
Both girls guessed Martin's intent and voiced their objections.
Martin said, "I can't just watch more people die."
Then, reassuringly—and truthfully—he added, "Don't worry; no one in this world can take me down."
With that, Martin bent low and dashed toward the hotel.
Reaching the hotel lobby, amid the chaos, Martin grabbed a white woman in uniform who seemed like a hotel manager and shouted, "Where's the fastest elevator?"
The woman clearly recognized Martin and froze for a moment.
Martin pressed her shoulder and said quickly, "Listen, that shooter is upstairs in your hotel. I need to get up there as fast as possible to stop him. Got it?"
The woman nodded instinctively.
Martin said approvingly, "Good. Now tell me, where's the elevator?"
"That way! Over there!" Her hand pointed in a direction. "There are two high-speed VIP elevators, but they need a card swipe to activate."
"You have a card?"
"I do." The woman nodded firmly.
"Great, give it to me."
Flustered, the woman fumbled for the card in her pocket, forgetting it was attached to her uniform. She tugged a few times without success.
Whether facing her idol boosted her courage or not, the woman decisively ran toward the elevator, saying, "I'll go up with you; my card can open all the room doors."
They entered the elevator, and the woman's bright eyes fixed on Martin as she asked, "You... you're going to stop the shooter?"
"Yes, I can't just stand by and watch more people die." Martin stuck to his excuse.
"You're a real hero, Martin," she said from the heart, her eyes filled with admiration.
When the shots rang out, everyone else fled for themselves—only Martin, the billionaire superstar, stepped up to confront the gunman.
"You... you could just call the police," she suggested out of concern.
Martin shook his head. "No time."
Soon, the elevator reached the 32nd floor.
"You stay inside," Martin told the woman.
She nodded and said, "I'll hold the elevator for you. If there's danger, run back this way."
"Okay, thanks." Martin turned and smiled, nearly making her knees buckle—her heart melted.
Martin was just too handsome!!!
Stepping into the hallway, Martin spotted Campos on the ground.
Campos saw Martin too and recognized the superstar.
Martin rushed to Campos's side, glanced at his wound. "You've lost a lot of blood. Press on the injury; this will all be over soon, and you'll be fine."
Campos felt Martin's words like a warm spring breeze, instantly easing his raised anxiety.
Martin suddenly remembered he'd forgotten to take the room card, so he asked Campos, "Do you have a magnetic key that can open rooms?"
Campos nodded. "In my left uniform pocket, but if they've deadbolted it, it won't work."
"No problem," Martin said.
The card was just a cover; Martin could use magic to open the door anyway, deadbolt or not.
He swiped the card.
Sure enough, it was deadbolted from inside.
Martin swiftly used magic to disengage the latch.
Pushing the door open.
In Campos's view, the door simply opened after the swipe, assuming it hadn't been bolted.
Martin slipped inside quietly.
Through the entryway, an old man stood at the window with a gun, firing downward.
The old man's demeanor seemed utterly calm, aiming and firing in controlled bursts, no wild spraying.
Martin leaped lightly, landing behind the old man.
Before he could react, a hand chop struck the old man's neck.
The gunfire ceased; the old man collapsed.
Fifteen minutes later, Las Vegas police arrived.
When the cops reached the 32nd floor of the hotel, they found Martin sitting on the ground chatting with the bandaged Campos. In the opposite room, an old man lay bound tightly on the floor.
The room's floor and tables were littered with guns and ammo.
Soon, the story hit the news.
The White House was alerted.
At this point, Trump didn't yet know his daughter was at the scene.
That night, he delivered a national TV address, declaring that from October 2 to 6, all U.S. public buildings, military bases, naval ships, overseas embassies, and diplomatic facilities would fly flags at half-mast in mourning.
He also announced that he and First Lady Melania would visit Las Vegas to meet with victims' families and witnesses.
Trump further stated his intent to swiftly classify "bump stocks" as illegal items.
Some members of Congress urged permanent legislative solutions, but others, along with the National Rifle Association (NRA), opposed banning bump stocks, firmly objecting.
(A "bump stock" is a device that significantly increases the firing rate of semi-automatic firearms to near fully automatic levels.)
After the incident, police ultimately found 23 firearms and thousands of rounds of ammunition in shooter Stephen Paddock's rented room 32135 at the Mandalay Bay Beach hotel, and later discovered another 18 guns at his residence.
From the 23 guns left in the hotel room, most rifles were AR-series, including 3 FN15 rifles, 4 DDM4 carbines, several SIG AR rifles, and at least one AK rifle.