Police in Los Angeles

Hotchner might seem like an administrative bureaucrat, but his combat skills were indeed strong. Seeing the shooter being forced to retreat repeatedly, Jack silently gave him a thumbs-up. At least four or five bullets had hit the torso. However, the heavily armed shooter was only pushed back half a step. Clearly, the .40in Smith & Wesson bullets weren't enough to penetrate his armor.

Although caught off guard, the shooter ferociously tried to lift the AR-15 again, aiming it at Hotchner. 

Time seemed to slow down at this moment. As the AR-15's muzzle slowly rose, Hotchner's heartbeat quickened, and his pupils gradually shrank to pinpoints. The surrounding shouts and screams seemed to fade away. He continued to frantically pull the trigger, but despair filled his heart. 

He could only watch helplessly as the black muzzle of the rifle pointed at him. It was as if he could already foresee the next second, where he would be riddled with bullets. 

Finally, in the corner of his eye, a figure suddenly appeared. It was as if Jack had been standing at the back of the pickup truck all along but was only now noticed. 

Under everyone's watchful eyes, Jack held the intimidating hand cannon with both hands, aiming at the astonished shooter. 

"Bang!"

The first shot shattered the narrow viewport of the Level 4 ballistic helmet, causing a mix of red and white to splatter inside. 

"Bang!"

The second shot penetrated the shooter's exposed jaw as his head recoiled from the impact.

"Bang, bang... bang, bang, bang."

The bullet holes extended downward as the shooter fell back, the final shot hitting dead center, causing the heavily armored body to twitch one last time as it crashed to the ground. 

In an instant, everything seemed to return to normal. The deafening sound of Jack's FK 7.5 finally reached everyone's ears, bringing back all the ambient noise.

As the distant sound of sirens approached, Hotchner felt as though he had forgotten how to breathe in that moment. He took several deep, labored breaths before his lungs finally reconnected with the air.

"Are you alright?" Jack's loud call brought Hotchner back to reality.

Jack holstered his Glock, freeing a hand to loosen his tie, finally feeling a bit more comfortable.

"You damn bastard! You said I only needed to buy you a second!" Hotchner cursed, realizing his voice was altered from tension.

"I didn't expect you to be so damn fierce," Jack casually replied. He reloaded his FK 7.5 with a spare magazine, then picked up his half-finished coffee from the ground and took a sip to soothe his dry throat.

He then calmly walked over to the shooter's body and kicked away the weapons. The yellowish-white substance leaking from the helmet confirmed the shooter was undeniably dead.

"LAPD, drop your weapons."

"Hands up."

With the sound of screeching brakes, a group of officers surrounded them. Hearing a few familiar voices, Jack raised his coffee cup with his left hand and the gun with his right, then slowly turned around.

"Hey, it's me, guys."

"Damn it, Jack, it's you." 

Captain Tim, who still led from the front despite his rank, lowered his gun and sighed in relief.

John, who had been tense, patted Jack's shoulder and scanned him, also relieved. 

"Are you okay, buddy?"

"I'm fine, but the situation inside isn't good."

Jack pointed towards the mall entrance, where civilians lay scattered. Some were still groaning, but at least seven or eight seemed confirmed dead from being shot. 

The mall entrance was soon blocked by seven or eight ambulances, which still couldn't take all the wounded at once. Fortunately, the central hospital was only two hundred meters away, and medical staff quickly arrived with gurneys.

Officers from the Wilshire Police Department swiftly secured the scene. After confirming there were no accomplices, many of them, tears in their eyes, searched for those hiding in fear. 

The shooter had only rampaged for a few minutes, but the casualties were severe, with at least 20 dead or injured civilians, including a white-haired old security guard who was a retired police officer in his 60s.

When the shooter entered the men's room, changed into full gear, and started shooting, the old officer had fired at least three shots with his Glock 17, hitting twice, but the ceramic plates in the body armor had stopped them.

Jack squatted by the old officer's body, regrettably finding his healing spell ineffective. He closed the man's angry, wide-open eyes.

"I knew him, Old Jim. His daughter just started at San Francisco University. I heard him complaining about the tuition last time we were at the police bar. I never thought..." John said sadly.

"Make sure to count me in when you guys donate," Jack said, standing up and sighing.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps approached. Hannah, wearing a bulletproof vest with the yellow letters FBI on it, rushed over and anxiously checked Jack.

"I'm fine. The shooter was killed before he could fire after stepping out."

Jack took her hand and gently reassured her.

"Any info on the shooter's identity?"

"Mauricio Novak, 29, graduated high school in '08 and joined the army but was forced to retire three months later due to physical and psychological issues."

Hotchner, having regained his composure, wore his poker face again, though his whitened knuckles gripping his phone betrayed his inner turmoil.

"The FBI found his driver's license in his pocket. Garcia is going through his social accounts. Preliminary judgment is that he's a new NC member. His body is covered with anti-symbols and double lightning bolt tattoos."

A female paramedic nearby ran off crying, and several officers sighed and shook their heads.

Carrie, the director of the central hospital's emergency department, also approached with swollen eyes, comforted by a concerned John.

"A family of four, father, mother, and the youngest son all died on the spot. Only the slightly older son survived."

"There are also two girls under ten among the victims. They should be sisters." Carrie's words brought a heavy silence to the scene.

Several male officers muttered curses and quickly walked away.

"You two need to leave. The reporters are already outside," Tim said urgently. Hannah, hearing this, took off her FBI cap and put it on Jack.

Tim, along with John and several LAPD officers, escorted Jack and Hotchner out of the mall through a side door.

I'm exhausted. Finally finished this. Going to sleep now.

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