Ethan walked silently down the hall, crawled up to the railing, and looked down. The hostages in the center of the basketball court were sitting nervously. The two suspects, who had removed their masks so their faces were now visible, were apparently running out of patience. The burly suspect was standing next to the hostages with a gun, while the other, whose expression was full of fear and anxiety, opened the blinds to look outside. It was chaos: the media swarmed in front of the building along with about twenty police officers.
Ethan pulled out his mobile phone, unlocked the screen, and took some photos of the two suspects, as well as images of the surroundings. Then he sent the photos to Siobhan.
After a while, the phone vibrated. Siobhan replied with a simple message:
"The fat man's name is Lance Mangan, and the other is Steve Nathan. They were both in prison together for armed robbery."
Siobhan also reported to Brock that Ethan had entered the gym and was satisfied with the information. However, she asked him not to act without authorization, so as not to put the lives of the hostages at risk.
Ethan turned off the screen and continued to watch.
—Can't you see the mess you've created? There are more and more police out there.
Nathan looked out the window and said, shocked:
—There are even television cameras. The situation is completely out of control. What are we going to do?
—I swear to God, someday I'll give you a pair of balls. Can't you behave like a man?
—Also, if you had killed that guy at the pharmacy a moment ago, we would have run away by now,—he continued, screaming out loud.
—I told you, you should have let me kill that cop.
—Damn it, do you hear what you're saying? We would have been arrested and sent back to prison, and I'm not going back to that damn place.
—You don't understand. My cousin Kaneki was shot dead on the interstate two days ago just because he killed a police officer. Maybe you want to die in a hail of bullets, but if you murder a cop, they won't let you go alive.
—Shut up. Shut your damn mouth. I don't want to hear you.
Lance's neck turned red, and under his loud scream, Nathan turned away angrily and continued to look outside.
More than half an hour later, just as Lance paced back and forth in anger, Ethan's phone vibrated.
"Don't make noise. I'm behind you."
Ethan looked back, confused, and saw Siobhan following in his footsteps. She took off her boots and jumped over the railing when she approached.
When Siobhan climbed up next to him, Ethan quickly tapped the phone screen.
—How did you get here?
—Brock worries that you're alone. I came to cover your back.
Siobhan locked the phone and gave him a nervous smile.
—No, I'm asking you why you came, not how you got here.
—I went to get a ladder, hahaha.
Seeing Siobhan's mocking gaze, Ethan reluctantly put his phone away.
As time passed, Lance's mood became increasingly irritable. Suddenly, his eyes froze and his steps stopped. He raised his hand with the gun, and Janie slowly stood up.
He moistened his lips and approached, brushing her collarbone with the barrel of the weapon. Janie felt the cold steel on her skin and closed her eyes in horror as tears streamed down her cheeks.
Lance, watching Janie tremble, unbuttoned her shirt, his frustration and emotions overflowing.
—Hey, you can't do that.
The black teacher next to them tried to stop him, but Lance stared her down. Nathan, hearing the noise, ran over quickly and said, agitated:
—Why do you want to mess around with her? What's wrong with you today? Instead of finding a way to escape, you decide to pull this shit in here,—Nathan growled, frustrated.
Lance withdrew his hand, a cynical smile creeping across his lips.
—Calm down, will you?—Lance said in a lower tone.—If you calm down, maybe we can talk about why you shot and killed that man at the pharmacy.
—I told you I was sorry,—Nathan replied, his voice tense.—I thought he was going to pull a gun.
—Are you sorry?—Lance arched an eyebrow.—And does that justify what you did? You always act without thinking, and now we're in this mess. My wife told you last time, remember? She asked you to fix a water pipe, and all you could do was flood the kitchen.
The mention of that incident was the last straw for Lance. With an impatient gesture, he shoved Nathan in the chest, knocking him to the ground. Nathan staggered, clutching his nose, which was now bleeding.
—Can you shut up?—Lance bellowed, rubbing his temples.—My head hurts. I need to think, damn it.
Nathan got up with difficulty, spitting blood and glaring at him.
—Fuck you,—he snapped, his voice full of pent-up anger.
After this little charade, Ethan and Siobhan retreated a bit. Ethan pulled out his cell phone and texted Brock, asking how long it would take for the FBI to arrive. The behavior of the two suspects was becoming increasingly unstable, and if things continued, the hostages would soon be in danger.
Brock's reply message only asked him to wait, but an hour had already passed.
Nathan, anxiously watching by the window, ran back to the center of the court.
—Lance, I don't see the car anywhere. Are you sure they'll meet our demands?
—Damn it.
—Can you stop playing around? Let's find a way to get out of here first.
—Move. I need to let off steam.
Lance pushed Nathan aside, lifted Janie with both hands, and walked toward the back of the stands. Nathan was so furious he grabbed a lock of his own hair and then pointed his gun at a group of students. Among them were Deva, Hood's daughter, and her best friend.
Her friend winked at Deva, took her hand, and got up, trying to step forward.
—Hey, I didn't say you could go.
Seeing Lance's fierce gaze, Deva was immediately frightened and took two steps back. She lowered her head and clutched her skirt tightly, completely losing her usual defiant demeanor.
—We go together, wherever it is.
Mangan chuckled, took two steps forward, and reached out to grab the girl by the chest.
—Then you can both stay.
—Go to hell, pervert.
Suddenly, she kicked him hard in the crotch. Mangan could only let out a cry of pain.
—Run!—she screamed, grabbing Deva and bolting toward the gym.
Seeing the sudden change, Ethan was about to get up, but Nathan waved the gun around, stopping several people who tried to flee.
—Nathan, stay here. I'll go after those bitches.
Lance, nearly castrated, was furious and ran after the girls without hesitation.
—Wait, bitches! I'll catch you!—he roared, chasing them.
Nathan watched helplessly as Mangan disappeared from view.
—Lance, damn it, what the hell are we going to do now?!
There was no response, only fading footsteps.
—Damn... Damn it!
—I shouldn't have come to town with Lance today. I should've stayed home. I haven't caught a single fish in days, and there's still half a pizza left at home.
Nathan paced in circles, muttering nonsense. Seeing him like this, the hostages huddled together in panic, afraid he'd snap at any moment.
Ethan and Siobhan were crouched, not expecting the situation to turn into such a disaster. Seeing that Nathan's attention had drifted from the students, Ethan quickly pulled out his Glock.
Although the distance was considerable and Nathan's state was irascible, he had to try—otherwise, Nathan might slaughter the hostages in a breakdown.
Ethan held his breath and aimed at Nathan's chest. The next moment, he pulled the trigger. The hammer struck, and the bullet shot from the burning barrel.
A bang echoed. Nathan, who was standing below, shuddered as blood splattered across his chest. He looked up in disbelief and saw only the black muzzle. The students near him let out muffled screams. Janie reacted quickly, spreading her arms and throwing the students to the floor.
Two more shots rang out. Nathan felt a searing pain in his chest and dropped the gun. At that moment, the side door swung open and Hood appeared. Seeing the scene, Hood yelled for the students to evacuate.
Ethan holstered his Glock, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and touched Siobhan's shoulder, asking her to stay. He grabbed the Remington he'd set aside and sprinted down the stairs with the shotgun. As he moved quickly, heavy steps approached.
He pressed himself into a corner. As the steps drew near, two figures appeared—Deva and her friend, running in a panic. He breathed a sigh of relief.
—Deva?!—Hood's voice called.
—Please save us!—Deva screamed.
The pounding steps returned—Mangan, roaring like a bull. The girls reached the end of the hall. Beneath the railing was the basketball court. Seeing no way out, Deva looked down at Hood, her expression desperate.
At that moment, Siobhan ran out and pulled them behind her.
—You two bitches, come out of hiding!—Lance roared, charging past Ethan without seeing him.
Ethan had been waiting. He raised the barrel and yelled:
—Drop the weapon, Lance!—he shouted without the slightest intention of taking him alive.
Lance spun around, terrified. Ethan didn't give him a chance to breathe—he pulled the trigger hard.
The shotgun thundered, and a blast of sparks erupted from the barrel. The slug slammed into Mangan's back, blasting him off his feet. He flew forward and hit the ground. Instantly, blood pooled around him.
Ethan lowered the Remington and approached slowly.
When he reached the body, his fingers still trembled. He kicked the gun away, then aimed the barrel at Lance's head.
He held the shotgun in one hand and rubbed his temple with the other, a tense smile on his lips. Siobhan cautiously approached, gun raised.
Ethan let out a shaky breath and lifted the shotgun again. Lance was no longer breathing—no need to waste another round.
Soon, Hood climbed the stairs. Deva broke free from her friend, threw herself into Hood's arms, and burst into tears.
Hood nodded gratefully to Ethan and Siobhan, then led Deva downstairs.
After putting their boots back on, Ethan and Siobhan left the gym.
Spectators crowded the police tape. Parents clutched their children in relief, some snapping frantic photos.
A special black vehicle entered through the stadium's side door and stopped. People in combat uniforms and tactical helmets stepped out. The word SWAT was emblazoned on their gear.
FBI Agent Dean Xavier waved them back into the vehicle and stalked over, furious.
He looked for Hood, fuming.
—Why did you act without waiting for SWAT? Do you know what a threat this posed to the hostages?
Hood had no choice but to step aside to speak with Dean Xavier.
Ethan didn't take the scolding seriously—it was Hood's problem as Chief.
Looking around, he spotted Janie Kendall, wrapped in a coat, standing alone by the trash cans.
When Janie saw Ethan approaching, she handed him a half-burned cigarette, her face still streaked with tears. Ethan took a drag, smoke curling calmly into the air.
—Did you kill him?—Janie asked, holding the cigarette, her eyes red.
Ethan exhaled the smoke and nodded.
Suddenly, Janie ran to him, threw her arms around his waist, and began to sob. Ethan comforted her quietly.
At that moment, behind the ambulance, Dan Kendall pulled up and hurried over.
—Mayor Kendall is here,—Ethan murmured, coughing gently to remind her.
Janie quickly stepped back, gave him a complicated look, wiped her tears, and turned to meet her husband.