"Thank you, Jack. I feel much better after these few days of treatment. To be honest, I can't wait to see my doctor."
Although he said this, Finch was staring at the metal rod in Jack's hand that was almost thicker than his little finger, and his calf twitched continuously.
"What are you talking about? Oh, you mean this?" Jack was too lazy to explain to this highly myopic guy. He returned Finch's glasses to him and gestured for him to put them back on.
"Look carefully, this is the tool I use to clean the gun barrel." Jack handed the metal rod wrapped in cloth in his hand to him, and Finch breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thank goodness! I thought you'd tired of torturing me with those tiny needles and were planning to stab me with this."
Feeling this conversation was a bit awful, Jack shook his head speechlessly and whistled. Bear, the dog, came to the sound, squatting obediently in a perfect sitting position, panting and sticking out his tongue, his beady black eyes gleaming as he stared at his owner without blinking.
While Reese was nominally his owner, Finch paid for Bear's food and toys, and a group of people often came to pet him under the guise of playing with him.
But if there was anyone Bear loved most, it was undoubtedly Jack.
These days, whenever Jack found time to enter the kitchen, Bear was the one most excited, even though dogs' sense of delicious food comes primarily from their sense of smell, their taste buds far less sophisticated than ours.
But as the saying goes, "appetizing, flavorful, and tantalizing" is the most comprehensive definition of delicious food. Bear, whose sense of smell surpasses humans, begins to drool uncontrollably the moment he notices Jack busy in the kitchen.
Jack fastens Bear's collar to a leash and hands the other end to Finch. "Today's your turn to take Bear for a walk. I'm going to rescue Leonard (Fusco)."
Finch tries to move his aching neck. Although he can't move it as freely as a normal person now, due to the spinal brace, it's still much better than the limited movement he'd experienced before, like a paraplegic.
He watches with curiosity as Jack skillfully puts on his bulletproof vest, fully armed and ready for a fight. "Didn't Detective Fusco just say on the phone that he could handle it? No help needed?"
Jack's mouth twitches, and he looks at Finch as if to confirm whether he's joking.
"Have you ever seen a man say he's incompetent in front of a beautiful woman? If I'd gone any later, I'd probably just be collecting his body."
"Uh," Finch suddenly realized, and quickly took out his phone to make a call. "Let me ask John (Reese) if he has time."
Jack waved his hand to indicate that there was no need to bother. "He's finally found Mark Snow's whereabouts. Let's not bother him for now. It's just a small gang. I can handle it alone."
A few minutes later, watching the red taillights of the Audi R8 disappear into the night, Finch looked down at "Little Bear" and said, imitating Jack's words just now.
"It's just a small gang. I can handle it alone. This really sounds like a line that only those lone heroes in the movies would say."
"Little Bear" blinked his small eyes and looked back at him, his expression innocent.
"
It seems like today's situation is doomed to fail. Only one of us can escape. If I fire back, you run like hell. Don't look back. Understand?"
Fusco dragged the girl behind his plainclothes police car, facing three gangsters armed with automatic fire.
Bullets had already riddled one side of the car like a hornet's nest, and stray bullets occasionally glided over the roof, leaving bullet holes in the wall across the small square.
"Oh, no, Lionel, I'm not worth this." Although the girl was forced to hide behind Fusco, the look she gave him was almost tearing.
Fusco pulled his spare revolver from his waistband, looking ready to sacrifice himself for his beloved. "Listen to me! Get ready!"
With a roar, he leaped to his feet, gun in both hands, sending the approaching gang members fleeing in panic.
However, his prowess lasted only a few seconds. While the scene looked impressive, Fusco lacked Jack's stun gun and Aubrey's headshot skills, which were only effective when they failed.
Bang, bang, bang, bang, the volley ended, leaving smoke on both sides but no casualties.
Forced back behind the car by the renewed barrage of fire, Fusco glared at the girl beside him, furious. "I told you to run, what are you doing?"
"No, Lionel, we're going to die together." The girl spoke English, but with a hint of Eastern European accent.
"This is the end of it." Fusco frantically changed the magazine, regretting his own pretense. If he had known, he would have called the FBI for help.
At that critical moment, a black sports car drifted around the corner like a ghost, making a loud entrance amidst a sudden surge of sound, and barreled straight toward the small square.
The three gang members were caught off guard, their eyes blinded by the glaring headlights before they could turn their guns.
The Audi R8, trailing a trail of smoke, circled the fountain in the center of the square and knocked the three gunmen off their feet with its rear end.
Jack opened the door and, without even a glance, shot one of the gunmen in the knee as he tried to resist. The other two, still wailing, instantly fell silent, hastily throwing their weapons far away.
"Do you always wait until the last minute to show up just to look cool?" Fusco grumbled, dragging a taller girl towards Jack.
Jack didn't reply, but watched with a smirk as the girl cupped Fusco's chubby face, leaned over, and pressed a deep kiss to his lips. Time seemed to stand still in that moment.
"Thank you, Leonard, thank you for everything you have done for me."
Fusco half opened his mouth, not reacting to what happened for a long time, until the phone on Jack's body rang at an inopportune time.
"Finch, your call is really not at the right time." Seeing the charming atmosphere was broken, Jack sighed and took out his phone to answer the call.
"It's urgent, Jack, it's an emergency. The machine just gave Mr. Reese's number." Finch spoke quickly with a series of words to explain the seriousness of the matter.
"Huh?" Jack was stunned for a moment, "When did Reese have a social security number?"
"It's one of those fake identities I made for him. I just tried to contact him, but his cell phone signal has disappeared. I'm trying to determine the place where the signal last disappeared."
"Send me the address, I'll go over and take a look now."
(End of this chapter)