Footsteps echoed—then stopped abruptly.
Ethan narrowed his eyes; the corner of the reception desk blocked most of his view, but from above, he could see a small gap where the glass door had been pushed open.
—Clang! Clang!
Several impacts rang out, and two cylindrical objects bounced and rolled inside.
Ethan's face drained of color. He spun around quickly and covered his eyes with his hands.
—Flashbang!
Right after his shout, two deafening detonations exploded.
An intense, blinding light pierced through his fingers; even with his eyes shut, he could feel the overwhelming white glare.
His head rang, and his chest felt like it had been struck by a heavy hammer.
This wasn't a game—flashbangs weren't something you could just shrug off by turning away.
He felt the pressure wave hit him clearly, and the thunderous noise left him dizzy, a sharp ringing filling his ears.
The light flickered and vanished. Ethan shook his head hard.
He didn't know if the others had reacted fast enough; taking two flashbangs indoors would amplify the effect tremendously.
Forcing himself through the discomfort, he quickly moved out from behind the pillar.
Three masked gunmen appeared in front of him, and Ethan's finger slammed the trigger.
—Bang!
The shotgun's thunder now sounded strangely muted.
One of the gunmen's heads burst apart like a watermelon the instant he fired.
Countless crimson droplets sprayed backward with the pellets; the glass couldn't hold any longer, shattering with a crash and falling down the stairs with a metallic clatter.
After firing, Ethan twisted aside to dodge.
—Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gunshots cracked weakly as rounds slammed into the concrete pillar, instantly carving a row of small holes.
Fragments of concrete sprayed and struck his body at random.
On the other side, several others were crouched low behind pillars and gaming tables.
Only Atwater, who hadn't dared to peek out, took less damage.
With his eyes burning, ignoring the tears streaming down, he fired wildly toward the entrance, doing everything he could to cover Ethan.
Realizing the ambush inside—and seeing police vests on them, along with one of their own getting his head blown off the moment they rushed in—the remaining two gunmen immediately wanted out.
They fired back several times toward where the first shot came from, then turned and bolted for the exit.
As soon as they stepped outside, they found the man covering their retreat firing frantically downstairs.
—It's a trap!
The shooter yelled without looking back:
—Go deeper! Casinos always have back exits!
—Shit!
On one side was a narrow staircase under heavy fire; on the other, a wide gaming floor filled with people still stunned by the blast.
Without hesitation, they chose what they thought was the better option.
Downstairs, Hank and Antonio, along with a recovering Erin, were firing fiercely, ignoring the danger as they tried to push upward.
The people upstairs had taken two flashbangs—who knew if they could still fight.
One wrong step could mean multiple casualties.
—Chicago PD!
In a desperate move, Hank roared:
—Drop your weapons! You still have a way out!
He had no choice but to reveal himself, hoping the people upstairs wouldn't dare kill them.
Ethan immediately dropped the shotgun and drew his Beretta. Using Atwater's covering fire, he moved to a new angle.
The two gunmen pushed deeper inside.
Ethan squeezed the trigger.
—Bang!
As the bullet struck one man's neck, time seemed to slow.
Flesh tore apart, his neck snapping at an unnatural angle.
A small hole appeared at the front; when the bullet exited, the cavitation effect violently tore through tissue, blowing out a massive wound at the back of his neck.
—Buff!
Sprayed blood splattered across the mask of the gunman behind him.
Blinded by the liquid, the man panicked, squeezing the trigger with his eyes shut and firing wildly.
—Atwater, don't shoot!
ºEthan shouted at the top of his lungs, charging forward while firing.
Atwater barely heard him; his blurred vision caught a figure rushing past, and he immediately released the trigger, ducking behind a gaming table.
A furious figure had already closed the distance. A tactical boot slammed into the gunman with brutal force.
The man was sent flying, lifting over the window.
He saw blue sky and white clouds, feeling no pain, his body weightless.
—Bang!
Less than two seconds later, he crashed hard onto the ground, blood splattering everywhere.
The last man covering the retreat could no longer withstand Hank's relentless fire.
He holstered his weapon, intending to run inside with the others.
As he turned his head, his pupils shrank sharply.
A long gun barrel gleamed with a cold light.
The massive muzzle pointed straight at him, as if it would swallow him whole.
—Clack!
The AR-15 hit the ground.
The gunman raised his hands and shouted:
—I surrender!
Ethan held his weapon up, aimed directly at him.
The masked man was on his knees, breathing hard, hands trembling slightly. His eyes darted around, trying to assess the situation.
For a second, Ethan thought about pulling the trigger.
He could do it. One shot—and it would all end there.
But he also knew what would come next.
If they started shooting after the man had surrendered, it would look bad. Too many bodies, too many questions. Internal Affairs would show up fast.
And worse… There would be no arrests.
Just a massacre.
Ethan clenched his jaw and took a slow breath, forcing the impulse down.
He lowered the weapon slightly, still aiming.
—Don't do anything stupid —he said firmly.
The man raised his hands higher, completely defeated.
Ethan stepped forward, shoved him to the ground, and pinned him with a knee to his back as he pulled out his cuffs.
The metallic click echoed through the empty casino.
—That's better —Ethan muttered as he secured him— Now let's see how much you're willing to talk.
Hearing the heavy gunfire below, he crouched and shouted:
—Cease fire!
—Everyone, cease fire! The gunmen are neutralized!
Soon, several figures began to move.
Halstead was the first to rush upstairs, seeing the bodies scattered across the floor, his heart pounded wildly.
The scene was brutally bloody—the entrance was covered in red.
—How is everyone?
He crouched quickly, asking anxiously.
At that moment, Hank and Erin appeared in the doorway.
Ethan could only see their mouths moving; the sharp ringing in his ears hadn't faded.
—I can't hear what you're saying.
He stood and grabbed Halstead.
—I'm fine. Check on them.
He couldn't control his volume—under the rush of adrenaline, his voice came out like a roar.
Hank quickly nodded, patted Halstead on the shoulder, and moved carefully inside.
Nearby, Erin pressed her radio, speaking rapidly.
Ethan tapped his ears, then shoved his weapon back into his waistband.
Seeing this, Hank wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Good thing Ethan had been upstairs; in their condition, any low-level thug could've taken them out.
As they came down the stairs, several patrol cars sped in and stopped along the street.
Officers poured out, shouting commands.
Ruzek and Burgess arrived as well, rushing over and signaling to them.
Their voices came and went.
His ears were already ringing—and now it was worse.
Ethan walked straight over and covered Burgess's mouth, gesturing for silence.
Ignoring her wide eyes, he took the sunglasses hanging from his chest and slid them onto his face.
The burning in his eyes from the sunlight eased immediately.
Watching everyone move quickly, Burgess didn't argue and helped secure the scene.
At Hank's call, patrol officers handed over their sunglasses.
The condition of a few of them was worse, so they were taken back to the cars to lie down.
Ethan's condition was lighter, so he stayed. Once the scene was cleared, the follow-up procedures could be skipped—Jimmy's team would take the credit, handle the arrests, and deal with the paperwork.
Two hours later, the group returned to the precinct like defeated soldiers.
The moment he sat down, Olinsky let out a long sigh, grabbed his sunglasses, and said through clenched teeth:
—I've got a suggestion: add something to the armory.
—Flashbangs… anyone agree?
As soon as he finished, everyone in the bullpen raised their hands at the same time.
What should've been a clean ambush had turned into a mess because of two explosions.
Having felt that thing firsthand, they all wanted others to experience it too.
—Alright, I get it!
Hank smiled, slung an arm over Halstead's shoulder, and walked into the office.
Ethan had just kicked his feet up and closed his eyes for a moment when a loud smack on the desk startled him.
Erin dropped a thick stack of documents onto the desk.
—These reports need to be filed before the end of the day —she said with a smile— You're great with a gun, but I wonder… how are you with paperwork?
Ethan's face stiffened as he stared at the stack.
—Come on, I just got hit with a flashbang.
He tapped his sunglasses.
—Can't you show a little sympathy? Help me out?
—No!
Erin refused instantly, staring him down.
—Unless… you cover my next two shifts.
So that was her angle. He really didn't want to deal with that mountain of forms—just looking at them gave him a headache.
—Fine. But I've got one condition. You come with me somewhere after work.
—Deal!
Erin didn't even ask where—they agreed immediately.
—Leave it to me. You just sign tomorrow morning.
She happily grabbed the documents and went back to her desk.
—Atwater.
Ethan closed his eyes and called out, tapping the desk with his heel.
—I'm here.
Atwater sat in front, rubbing his eyes slowly.
—You did well today, —Ethan said, giving him full credit.
If he hadn't provided cover earlier, things wouldn't have gone so smoothly.
—Nice work.
Antonio raised both hands and applauded.
The flashbang had disoriented him earlier; he'd barely heard the gunfire.
In that situation, he hadn't dared move at all.
He only learned what happened later—Ethan performing like that wasn't new to them anymore.
—Thanks, I was just doing my job, Detective.
Atwater grinned at the light applause.
—Aren't you all curious about Detective Sumner today? —Halstead said, bringing it up—
Ethan dropped his feet and sat up straight.
—Are you interested in her? I can get you her number.
—Someone who gets assigned here directly, and even Hank had no choice but to accept… have you thought about how you'll deal with her?
—I haven't.
He stood, bit down on a cigarette, and walked toward the balcony.
—I don't care who she's connected to. As long as she doesn't bother me, I don't care.
Another day without incidents, and the clock was already nearing five in the afternoon.
In Intelligence, days were rarely normal. When there was work, they stayed late chasing leads and closing cases. But when things were quiet, the time was theirs.
Ethan had finished everything on his plate. He closed the file he'd been reviewing, stood up, and as he passed Erin's desk, tapped his knuckles on it to get her attention.
—You guys going to Molly's tonight? —Antonio asked when he saw him about to leave.
—I'm in tonight.
He wasn't the only one. Jay Halstead and Atwater raised their hands from their desks.
Erin pressed her lips slightly and glanced up at the ceiling for a moment. She'd already promised Ethan something and wasn't sure she'd have time for everything.
Ethan caught it instantly.
He smiled.
—Alright then —he said casually—. See you tonight.
—Sounds good —Antonio replied.
Walking downstairs with Erin—
—Where are we going?
—Hyde Park.
Erin rolled her eyes.
—Do I need to go home and change first? —she asked, looking him up and down—. Something that makes me look… a little more like a rich person?
Ethan tugged lightly at his jacket, checking the fit.
—This is fine.
Erin scoffed.
—Fine then!
She shook her head and started down the stairs toward the exit.
When they stepped outside, it was still early. The afternoon light bathed the street, and the sky was streaked with golden clouds.