Bullets flew from nowhere, still reaping the lives of the corrupt police officers. Hearing the crack of the metal barrel in front of him, Duval instinctively hunched back a little.
"Get in the car! Get in the car! Go! Don't worry about us."
Ronik and Bishop protected the GMC on either side. The unfortunate Capra, already completely drunk, dragged the state trooper Jeffrey, who was in so much pain that he lost control of his expression, to the car first and opened the side door.
The black prisoner was holding the AR15 that the drug addict had used before. After squeezing the trigger and emptying the magazine, she threw the empty gun away, opened the car door, and got into the driver's seat, shouting to Alice and Alex.
"Hurry!"
The two beauties served John at the same time, each holding his arm as they walked behind.
The price of someone's heroic rescue was a hole in his butt. Duval's shot had missed the bulletproof vest and hit him where the flesh was most.
Ronik repeatedly pulled the trigger, unleashing volley after volley of bullets at the corrupt cops hiding behind barrels and other shelters. The ammunition Jack had collected all night came in handy at this moment.
Ronik and Bishop took turns emptying their magazines, pinning the cops down. Once they were all in the car, the GMC, already running, slowly reversed and then turned onto the main road.
"Assholes! Bastards!" Duval, rubbing his sore eyes and tearing up, barely regained his sight. The first thing he saw was the red taillights of the GMC.
"Get in the car, chase them!" Duval shouted, and his trusted men, along with two of them, rushed to the other GMC they were hiding in nearby.
The other corrupt cops, their sight gradually returning, also began to fight back. The mysterious sniper was formidable, but compared to the prospect of decades in prison, they bravely chose to defy fate.
The others successfully boarded their vehicles and evacuated. Naturally, Ronik and Bishop wouldn't foolishly stay put and take the brunt of the fire. They covered each other, fighting as they retreated, their figures quickly disappearing into the nearby woods.
A few breaths later, the small battlefield on the edge of the factory complex strangely returned to calm. The mysterious sniper, as if he had run out of ammunition, didn't fire another shot for a long time.
Europeans and Americans may not have the saying "don't enter the woods once you've seen them," but as a commander, Duval possessed considerable tactical command.
He glanced in the direction of the second GMC, then at the three remaining men behind him, and finally at their night vision goggles. He gritted his teeth, his cheeks puffing out.
"Follow me! Don't let Bishop get away."
The others fled, so be it. They were just witnesses. Who would have believed that Detroit police would organize a siege on their own station?
Duval could simply shift the blame onto the deceased, claiming that some of his own men, angered by the murder of their colleagues, were seeking private revenge. He could then resign, blaming himself for failing to manage his subordinates.
He'd already made enough money over the years, and his meager pension wasn't a concern. Given Bishop's notoriety in Detroit, public opinion might even swing in his favor, and a return to politics for mayor wasn't out of the question.
But Bishop, holding crucial evidence against his department, had to die. Only with his death could Duval and his men survive.
It was four against two, and he still had three night vision goggles, so he might as well give it a try. The
mysterious
sniper was, of course, Jack. As the fire engulfed the police station and the others fled into the sewers, he rushed into an office in the hallway. Neatly
arranged on the desk was a complete set of uniforms and equipment that John had stripped from the body of a corrupt officer.
Earlier, Jack had taken John to the temporary holding area. Besides taking "memorial photos" of the bodies, his main job was actually helping him get a proper uniform.
Jack instinctively sensed something was amiss when a veteran officer, surrounded for most of the night, finally remembered there was a sewer escape hatch in the basement.
But the threat was real. They'd been able to hold out because the limited explosives the corrupt cops had couldn't penetrate the old station's thick brick walls.
Even if stun grenades were thrown through the windows, they could have covered their ears and eyes, hiding behind walls and cover.
But the second floor offered virtually no decent cover. Aside from a few supporting columns, most of the area was made up of offices separated by wooden planks and large glass panels, even the floors were old wooden.
If the enemy used stun grenades and smoke bombs to clear the way, the defenders upstairs would have no other options except a human-scale "armor-to-armor" duel, each trying to see who could land the first hit on the unprotected area of their bulletproof vests.
This, too, is the difference between movies and reality. Heroes can use mattresses, sofas, or even ordinary wooden tables to shield themselves from enemy fire.
But if an ordinary person were to try and do the same, they'd end up getting blasted into a sieve along with their "cover."
The drug addict and Black Smiley's escape to their deaths not only dampened morale within the police station but also significantly weakened its defenses.
Alice, Alex, and the inmate Black Girl were all ordinary people who could barely handle guns. Their presence at the windowsills served primarily as a warning, and if a melee erupted, they were lucky to avoid any casualties.
Previously, when they barely had enough manpower, Jack had been forced to abandon the back entrance and temporary detention area, relying solely on himself to maneuver.
In this scenario, if the enemy attacked simultaneously from the stairwells and the front door, the defenders would be trapped between the stairwell and the lobby, and casualties would be almost inevitable.
Jack's original plan was to set fires at various entrances to create chaos, using this as an opportunity to drive everyone to the basement, where he would then don his rogue police uniform and begin a killing spree.
As long as he moved quickly and reached the fire before it got completely out of control, he had a good chance of defeating the intruders, then using the fire extinguisher to clear a path and lead everyone out through the back door.
However, Jasper's suggestion of an escape route instantly dispelled the will to continue resisting, and even Jack, with his already considerable prestige, found it difficult to object.
So he simply adjusted his plan, remaining behind as cover. In reality, after dealing with the rogue police's sniper ambush in the distance, he disguised himself as a rogue police officer and blended in with the group forced back by the fire.
At this point, the drawbacks of indiscriminate signal blocking became apparent. Lacking squad communication, the rogue police not only failed to detect their own intruders, but also failed to notice that the two snipers providing cover had been instantly dispatched by a rogue individual.
Duval hurriedly led his men to the position provided by Jasper for cover, and casually called someone to inform the two snipers and the two police cars responsible for blocking the road to stay.
He never expected that the guy who took the order and left without saying a word was not one of his own.
After Duval led his men away, Jack ran to the rooftop of the opposite building and successfully obtained a police Remington 700PD sniper rifle. He shot one by one at the intersection on both sides of the east and west, and successfully killed the two policemen in the police car.
Chapters 1040 and 1041 have been slightly modified. I forgot about the seriously injured state trooper before. It turns out that my brain is not so good at it when I get old. Sorry.
(End of this chapter)