Chapter 6: The World of Movies?

The two shots from the hijackers failed to kill Owen, and they redirected their aim towards the man in the vest.

The man in the vest was quick-witted. As soon as he saw the guns, he immediately ducked and covered his head, running for cover. The handguns pursued him, firing as he darted behind a pile of miscellaneous items, narrowly escaping the bullets.

Owen aimed again at the hijackers just as they aimed at him. Simultaneously, they opened fire, engaging in a shootout across the table. Bullets flew in the confined space of a few square meters, causing various items to ping and jump as they were hit.

While the hijackers fired, they also retreated to increase the distance between them and Owen. In contrast, Owen had to engage in close combat since the hijackers were wearing bulletproof vests.

The chase unfolded with one running and the other pursuing, firing across the table. They seemed like two parallel lines, traversing the entire length from one end to the other until a pillar blocked their view.

At the moment their line of sight was obstructed, both made different choices. Owen chose to close the distance rapidly, while the hijacker opted to reload. Swiftly replacing the old magazine with a new one, the hijacker completed the action.

As they circled around the pillar, the hijacker was astonished to find Owen so close. However, the surprise on his face lasted only a moment. The hijacker immediately raised his gun and started shooting. The bullets, spinning from the barrel, narrowly missed Owen, who had gracefully dodged.

In the split second when the hijacker pulled the trigger, Owen went down, sliding towards the hijacker with the momentum. Simultaneously, his gun echoed.

"Bang, bang."

The bullets fired by the hijacker grazed Owen's scalp, and Owen successfully hit the hijacker's legs. A mist of blood emerged from the bullet wounds, and the hijacker groaned, falling to the ground.

As the hijacker tumbled, Owen slid right next to him. Before the hijacker could rise again, Owen's gun was already aimed at his temple.

"Bang, bang."

The body attempting to stand collapsed back to the ground. Owen had killed two men in quick succession. However, he couldn't afford to let his guard down; the identity of the man in the vest was still unknown.

Owen's gun was out of bullets; the last two shots had killed the hijackers. Instead of reloading, he swiftly picked up the hijacker's gun, doing a forward roll to position himself with the gun pointed at the man in the vest.

"Come out! Hands on your head!"

Owen sternly commanded.

"Don't shoot, buddy. Be careful, I'm not a hijacker; I'm a cop," the man in the vest said from behind the miscellaneous items.

"Police? Prove your identity, move slowly. Don't make me misunderstand, or I will shoot," Owen warned.

"Okay, it's all up to you. I'm coming out, hands on my head," the man in the vest replied.

He emerged, holding a handgun with two fingers, slowly stepping out and turning around to show there were no hidden weapons. Then, he gestured to Owen, "I'm going to take out my ID. It's in my pocket."

"Alright, move slowly."

Owen pointed his gun at the man in the vest, who began retrieving his identification from his pocket. He opened a small book and held it up for Owen to see.

Owen took a brief look; indeed, it was a police badge clearly stating the New York City Police Department, and the man held a higher rank than Owen, a captain. Owen holstered his gun, and the man in the vest resumed normal movements.

Feeling a sudden exhaustion, Owen, who had just killed two men, sat down on the floor leaning against a table. The tension, combined with fatigue, made him aware of the pain in his body. He remembered being shot at least twice.

Grinning, he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the Kevlar bulletproof vest underneath with the LAPD logo. Two yellow bullet heads were embedded in the chest and abdomen, evidence of the shootout. Thankfully, the bullets hadn't penetrated the vest.

The man in the vest, now sitting beside Owen, noticed his condition. "Hey, buddy, are you okay? You don't look too good."

Caught off guard, Owen was still in shock. The man's words brought him back to reality, and he cautiously asked, "Is your wife's name Holly?"

"Yes, do you know her?" the man in the vest inquired.

Owen, realizing his question might have been too direct, coughed and disguised it, "Oh, nothing. I've heard her name. Female executives are rare in Los Angeles."

"I see."

Seeing the man in the vest didn't suspect anything, Owen quickly changed the subject, "By the way, do you have a way to contact the outside? We should report this immediately."

"I'm afraid not. I tried just now; the phone lines seem to be cut. All the phones are dead, and there's no one else in the building. Oh, and do you have a cellphone? Mine got smashed, or even a walkie-talkie would do?"

The man in the vest handed Owen a shattered cellphone.