In the afternoon, Owen and Heartbeat arrived at the FBI headquarters. Today was the day Zheng Anshun would be transferred to Baldwin Park Prison.
The Department of Justice had been unusually fixated on Los Angeles recently, making every agency in the city nervous, lest they get caught in some political mess.
Zheng Anshun had spent two days in FBI custody—and they had gotten absolutely nothing out of him.
The guy was lucky. With the Justice Department's oversight, neither CTU nor the FBI dared to use enhanced interrogation. Otherwise, under Jack Bauer's old methods, Zheng would've at least lost a few fingers by now.
Technically, Zheng was still CTU's prisoner, so even though the FBI was handling the transfer, Owen and Heartbeat had to be present for formalities.
"How's it going, buddy?" Owen asked as he slid into the car with Benjamin.
"Don't get me started. I'm starting to think the DOJ guys are the real bosses behind White Mask. Thanks to them, Zheng feels invincible and refuses to say anything. No real progress…" Benjamin sighed, looking exhausted.
Owen patted him on the shoulder. This was clearly another high-level political game. All they could do was carry out orders and wait for the dust to settle.
Behind them, Zheng Anshun, clad in an orange jumpsuit, was led into the prisoner transport van. An FBI agent accompanied him inside. Once everything was ready, Owen ducked into a sedan, and the convoy set off.
...
Outside a villa, John Wick pulled up in his Dodge Pathfinder.
He had spent the night speaking to his deceased wife at her grave. When he returned home, he found the villa's front door wide open and the lawn torn up with tire tracks.
Getting out, he quickly searched the entire house.
No one there—only wreckage.
In the kitchen lay his Labrador, stiff and bloodied.
John crouched beside his dog, noting that its food bowl was still full, meaning the intruders had come shortly after he left.
Without a word, he buried his dog in the backyard.
Inside, he reviewed the hidden camera footage, watching carefully as it captured the faces of every intruder—especially the bald man who killed his dog with a baseball bat.
They had killed his dog, drank his liquor, and pissed in his pool.
John silently committed every detail to memory.
On the still-lit computer, he found the browsing history: someone had been investigating a particular building downtown. That would be their destination.
John closed his eyes for two seconds, then headed for the supply room.
Soon after, he was in the basement, smashing the floor open with a sledgehammer.
He thought he'd never need those things again. He was wrong.
Buried in the concrete was a big metal chest, filled with carefully oiled weapons.
...
Out on the road, a convoy of five black sedans surrounded a prisoner transport van.
Benjamin had assumed that the transfer from CTU to the FBI would have been ambushed, and so had made heavy preparations—calling in Owen for backup. But nothing had happened.
Maybe the White Mask operatives really had left California, or maybe Zheng was too minor to bother rescuing.
Either way, Benjamin felt tonight's transfer would also go smoothly. Still, he chose to move at night, avoiding daytime chaos.
It was just past 11 p.m., and the streets were almost deserted.
Ahead, the traffic light turned red. The convoy began slowing down smoothly—no rookie mistakes like splitting up at an intersection.
Owen and Benjamin were casually chatting in the second car.
Inside the prisoner van, Zheng Anshun sat cuffed, head lowered as if deep in thought. The FBI agent across from him remained alert.
Suddenly, the van lurched violently.
Even stranger, the agent's gun and keys were yanked upward—as if pulled by some invisible force—and stuck to the ceiling.
While the agent hesitated, Zheng struck—launching himself forward, smashing his elbow into the agent's temple, then following up with a vicious headbutt and more blows until the man crumpled unconscious.
In the second car, Owen glanced back at the noise—only to see a massive magnet clamped onto the prisoner van's roof. A figure stood atop the magnet as the entire van began to lift off the ground.
What the hell?!
Owen burst out of the car, yelling. Others did the same, bewildered by the surreal scene.
"Ratatatatatat—"
Gunfire erupted from the magnet-mounted figure wielding a submachine gun.
Screeching brakes echoed from both ends of the street as additional vehicles blocked them in.
Then—
"Ratatatatat—"
"Bang bang bang—"
A chaotic firefight broke out.
"Engage!" Owen shouted, kicking open his door and using it for cover. FBI agents spilled out and returned fire.
Bullets zipped through the night, ricocheting wildly. Owen ducked behind his door, bullets pinging off the reinforced panels.
Fuck!!!
Owen swore inwardly, watching the van rise higher and higher. These attackers were clearly just meant to stall them.
He wanted to break free and stop the van, but the hail of bullets pinned them down.
Still, Owen could tell these assailants were amateurs. They wielded Uzis but hadn't killed a single agent yet—meanwhile, two of their own had already been gunned down.
The FBI's armored vehicles gave them a serious advantage.
After a few more casualties, the attackers began to flee on foot, abandoning their vehicles to block the street.
Benjamin wanted to give chase, but Owen stopped him.
"Up to the roof!"
Inside the adjacent building, FBI agents frantically mashed elevator buttons.
Meanwhile, on the rooftop—
The prisoner van, still attached to the giant magnet, was gently set down.
Avril jumped down and slapped the van's side.
Immediately, someone stuck a bomb to the rear door.
Three—
Two—
One—
Boom!
The rear doors blasted open in a cloud of smoke.
Moments later, Zheng Anshun crawled out from behind the dead agent's body, still wearing his jumpsuit.
"Welcome back!" Avril greeted him with a smile, pulling him into a hug.
Zheng quickly found the keys and began unlocking his handcuffs. "Where are the others?" he asked.
No answer.
He turned to look at Avril—and instantly understood.
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