But Owen didn't have time to worry about any of that. The train was getting closer—he could already hear the rumble of it moving. It would reach them in less than a minute.
Owen kept pushing forward, always at the front of the CTU formation, with Heartbeat at his side. The two moved in a coordinated rhythm—Owen down the center, Heartbeat on the flank—alternating fire.
Up ahead, a panicked enemy attempted to yank open a car door to take a civilian hostage. That crossed the CTU's red line. He was immediately met with a barrage of fire from nearly the entire team. Even with body armor, it was pointless—he was shredded into a mess of holes.
Zheng Anshun ducked back behind a car in a panic. The guy who was lit up had been right next to him—he narrowly avoided being caught in the crossfire.
Swapping in a fresh magazine, Zheng circled around the car's rear and retreated another vehicle's length.
"Ratatatata~"
He popped up to fire again, then immediately ducked. They were nearly at the crossing now. If they could reach it and climb onto the train as it passed, they'd be home free.
But CTU was pressing hard. The two sides were barely thirty meters apart. Shots landed on both ends, though most struck body armor or caused minor wounds—nothing instantly fatal.
Owen fired with extreme care. Even with the boost of bullet time, he couldn't guarantee a kill every shot. Not even perfect accuracy.
Every time he exposed himself to fire was a gamble. The car he used for cover was struck by bullets every few seconds.
The road was too narrow. With both lanes clogged with vehicles, only three paths remained: left, center, and right. The narrowness and fixed approach made it easy for the enemy to hold their position—they just had to lock down three shooting corridors.
The objectives were clear. White Mask needed to suppress CTU long enough to board the train. CTU needed to stop them.
The air was thick with bullets. Owen didn't even blink as they hissed past. He popped up, aimed, and fired—one clean headshot. But almost immediately, he was grazed in the shoulder and dropped back behind cover.
"Owen, are you alright?"
"I'm good!"
With his reassurance, the others kept pressing forward. Bullets continued to pelt the vehicles like hailstones on a metal roof—relentless, deafening.
Though CTU had the numbers, they had taken injuries. Carter was hit again and out of action. Jimmy, Heartbeat, and Owen had all been wounded. Only the rear tactical squad remained mostly intact.
At this stage, neither side could advance further without significant cost. Every meter came with a blood price.
Owen ordered the team to maintain suppressive fire while waiting for the flanking unit to reach position before pushing again.
"Woooo—rumble rumble—rumble rumble—"
The train finally arrived, barreling through the crossing at full speed. With each car thunderously passing, even the gunfire was nearly drowned out.
No one held back now. Everyone emptied their clips in a furious storm of bullets. Everyone understood—if they didn't stop them now, it would be almost impossible to catch them again.
At that moment, the flanking team arrived, appearing from the side of the White Mask position. The train thundered past, and White Mask was suddenly caught in a pincer.
Their escape by train became a fantasy. With bullets pouring from both directions, even if they did jump aboard, they'd be torn apart. And the flanking team wasn't going to give them that chance.
Most likely, they'd be shot before they could make the leap.
The situation flipped. White Mask was under heavy pressure, now boxed in from both sides. They were already outnumbered—and now their path was cut off.
"What do we do?"
Zheng called out to Avril while exchanging fire.
"Leave the road! Get to the bridge!"
Avril quickly scanned the battlefield. One move at a time.
"Bang bang bang—"
Castor shot out a section of roadside fencing, crouched low, and slipped through. One by one, the others followed.
"Pursue them!"
Owen gave the order with a sigh of relief. Both of his goals were now met: they had cut off the enemy's escape route and forced them off the public road—sparing any more civilian involvement.
Ahead, the White Mask survivors scrambled up the side staircase to the railway bridge. CTU chased from behind.
"Ratatatata—ratatatata—"
White Mask tried to cover their retreat, firing to slow CTU's advance. But the bridge was nothing like the road below—no vehicles to use as cover. They were exposed.
In the ensuing exchange, Zheng Anshun was hit. Avril was hit. Alfred was hit. Castor was hit.
Only four of them remained alive, all injured. Somehow, their body armor was unusually effective—unless struck in the head or neck, they kept getting back up. The two earlier deaths had both been due to direct hits to the skull or throat.
Owen carefully controlled the chase, waiting for the other CTU unit to cut them off from the front. He was confident this time they'd capture them alive.
On the other side of the bridge, Jimmy led the second CTU team up the opposite staircase—appearing right in front of the fleeing White Mask. Bullets rang out, clanging off train cars in bursts of sparks.
Once again, White Mask was surrounded—pinned behind a stationary freight car, using it as their last defense.
CTU's two teams took up positions on either side, ready to pounce the moment the enemy ran out of ammo.
"Drop your weapons!"
CTU agents shouted while slowly advancing. Every time a shadow appeared, a rain of bullets followed—not to kill, but to keep them pinned, heads down.
Owen had decided—they were taking prisoners this time.
The teams approached the train car, flanking it. With no ammo left, the four remaining White Mask members were pushed to the edge of the bridge. Behind them: a drop of several meters. In front: a wall of guns.
"Drop your weapons!"
The order came again. The four exchanged bitter glances—but a burst of rounds at their feet made the point clear.
Castor was the first to throw down his empty rifle. The others followed suit.
Just as Owen stepped forward to have them cuffed—
"RUMBLE—"
The bridge trembled. Another train was passing underneath.
In that instant, the four sprang into motion, leaping from the bridge.
"Bang bang bang—"
Gunshots rang out as CTU agents raced to the edge. Only Zheng Anshun didn't make the jump—Owen had shot him in the leg. The rest landed on the passing train.
The train sped away. The escapees had already slipped into a car, vanishing from sight.
The roar of the train faded into the distance. Zheng Anshun, lying on the ground, looked from the departing train back to the approaching CTU agents. Silently, he closed his eyes—resigned.
...
"Chief, only Zheng Anshun captured. The others escaped..."
Moments later, Owen's voice crackled over the CTU comms. Not that he needed to say it—the satellite feed had already shown the rest.
Before Owen even finished his report, the satellite had been tracking the speeding train under Chloe's direction.
Zheng Anshun had been the mastermind behind the premiere bombing. Capturing him meant CTU had at least met its baseline mission. Avril and the others? It would've been ideal, but even without them, CTU could explain things to the public.
In the command room, the only one clearly frustrated was Conklin. His target had always been Avril—and she had slipped away.
"There's still a chance. The train's still under our surveillance..."
Tony tried to reassure him. Conklin remained stone-faced.
Suddenly, the satellite feed glitched—then went to static.
Chloe and the data team worked frantically to restore it. At that moment, Conklin's phone rang.
He answered, listened briefly, and hung up. "Satellite malfunction. CIA's working on it. Dammit—we've lost Avril's trail..."
Tony and the others exchanged glances. Conklin's luck was unbelievable—unbelievably bad.
...
(This shootout was inspired by the film Den of Thieves. If you're interested, check it out.)
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