Reincarnated in Banshee Town

Emmett nodded quickly, securing the hood firmly as he swirled over the car with agility. With a precise maneuver, he moved after the suspects, took the radio, pressed it with determination, and shouted:
—The suspect is running to the Oak Street parking lot.
Ethan looked at the rearview mirror and saw himself in it. A small wound to his forehead let out a slowly flowing thread of blood. He took a handkerchief out of the glove compartment, to clean the blood, blood quickly, and turned the car key. However, after some noise, the vehicle still did not start. At that time, Emmett had already disappeared from his sight.
— Damn, those idiots ruined my day.
With no choice, Ethan took out the key, opened the door, and stepped on the ground, still shaken. Without wasting time, he went to the back of the car, opened the trunk, took the Remington M870 and carried it on his back. He closed the trunk and ran in the direction Emmett had gone.
—Brock, they just crossed Oak Street, I repeat, they just crossed Oak Street —Siobhan yelled on the radio.
Ethan also sighted Emmett's back. He quickly jumped on an iron fence, advanced quickly.
—Suspects fled in the direction of the high school gym —Emmett's breathless voice came on the radio.
The sirens echoed when Ethan ran across the street. Siobhan passed in a Chevrolet truck. The two exchanged a glance; Ethan sped up, leaned hard on the iron fence, jumped on it skillfully.
After climbing the iron net and running through the stands of the soccer field, Emmett had already reached the end zone on the opposite side of the field.
— Stop, Banshee Police!
Emmett's screams echoed across the soccer field. The two suspects, one fat and the other thin, accelerated and ran desperately, ignoring the officer's orders, Emmet wanted to shoot but quickly stopped.
A woman in a striped shirt smoked a cigarette with her back to the iron door. Hearing the screams, he turned around, and seeing the situation, he screamed in horror, threw the cigarette away, and ran away.
She was wearing high heels and was not very fast. After running a few steps, the fat suspect picked her up and used her as a human shield.
—Release her immediately, you are adding one more charge to your sentence. —Emmett ordered, stopping and raising his weapon.
Ethan sped up, and the person the fat man was holding hostage was none other than Jenny Kendall, the Mayor's wife, things had gotten a lot more screwed up from now on.
Seeing Emmett's hesitation, the thief reached out and shot. Shots were heard and Emmett fell to the ground. The two thieves grabbed Jenny by the arms and dragged her to the side door of the gym.
— Are you okay? —Ethan ran quickly, holding the Remington in hand, and pointed at the side door of the gym as he knelt down to assist Emmett. — Wounded officer, Wounded officer, send an ambulance to the Banshee High School field — yelled on the radio, awaited Alma's confirmation.
Emmett covered his arm with his hands and sat on the floor, the pain evident as the blood flowed between his fingers.
At that time, two police cars quickly approached from one side. The car leaned in front of the two of them. Brock and Siobhan rushed out of the car and preemptively pulled out their weapons, their eyes quickly scanned the perimeter.
Ethan left the Remington, took the tourniquet from his service belt, and quickly tied it to Emmett's arm. Fortunately, the bullet went through his arm without touching the bone, which could be considered lucky.
—Let me know. —Brock stepped forward.
After Ethan tied the tourniquet, Emmett picked up the pistol that had fallen to the ground, got up, and leaned against the nearest police car, sweating profusely.
—Emmett nodded, while sitting with difficulty on the asphalt, his face pale with pain. Emmett tried to compose himself and began to explain:
—Brock, the suspects are two white men, one robust and the other thin. The situation quickly complicated. After Emmett and I followed them from the parking lot, the suspects entered the school gym. 
—Jenny Kendall was taken hostage, I don't know if there are more people in Gimnacio.
—Very well. Siobhan, you and Ethan check the gym to see if there are other entrances and exits.
Ethan and Siobhan ran to the side, weapons in hand. Because it was the weekend, the other entrances and exits to the gym were closed with large iron chains. After confirming that there was no other place on the first floor where the two suspects could escape, they returned to the side door together.
—Come closer, look around here —Brock ordered, hidden behind the police car. Seeing Ethan and Siobhan approach, he quickly raised his hands as a warning sign.
Through the glass of the gym side door, suspects could be seen moving. It seemed that they were observing the external situation. Siobhan bent down and ran to the police car in small steps.
—Report
—Except the side door, all other outputs and inputs are locked. They will not be able to open them from within.
—Well, for now the situation is controlled. We shouldn't alter it until we get reinforcements —Brock agreed.
Siobhan carefully ran to the back of his Chevrolet SUV, took a small first aid kit out of the trunk, and began examining Emmett's wounds.
— What about Hood? —asked Brock as he bandaged the wound.
—Today he took a day off, said he had personal matters to attend to and that he would be out of town all weekend.
Emmett endured the pain and added:
—Brock, is the police chief. Mrs. Kendall has been kidnapped, this gets out of hand. We must contact him.
—Okay, so —Brock had no choice but to raise the radio —. Alma, help me communicate with the Sheriff, inform him of the situation.
—I tried to communicate with him a moment ago, but got no response —Alma replied on the radio.
— Why doesn't it surprise me at all? —Brock left the radio and looked at the others helplessly.
After Siobhan finished bandaging the wound, Emmett clenched his pistol, clenched his teeth, and said:
—We can't wait like this forever. I suggest entering immediately. Now we have four people and the advantage is on our side.
—No —Brock objected quickly —. They have already murdered a person and are now holding hostages. We cannot take any risks.
— What are we going to do now? —Siobhan asked anxiously.
Ethan licked his lips and poked his head out from behind the police car. The figure that blinked on the side door glass had disappeared.
— Can we at least get closer to see what's going on?
Several glances crossed. Emmett was wounded, and Siobhan had not yet recovered from the latest incident. Brock had no choice but to press the gun in his hand and, in a dry voice, said:
—Ethan, let's go together.
After a quick agreement, Emmett and Siobhan stayed behind the police car, aiming their weapons at the stadium's side door, prepared in case the armed criminals suddenly left.
Ethan and Brock took one side each and, after making a big curve, advanced on the left and right sides. Leaning in, they carefully approached the side door. Brock reached out and pressed the door lightly, then added a little more force. The side door did not move at all; it had to be closed from the inside.
The two looked at each other. Brock wiped sweat from his forehead and nodded. Ethan held the Remington and slowly rose in front of the door panel.
Seeing the tension on the scene, Emmett and Siobhan also nervously squeezed their weapons.
Ethan got up and looked inside.
The two thieves had already left for the basketball court in the middle of the gym. They argued with each other while dancing around the hostages. In addition to Jenny Kendall, there was another teacher and a couple of students.
Ethan cursed silently. How could you forget it? Jenny had mentioned that today she was coming to see the students, who had extracurricular classes.
He quickly bent down, turned to Brock, and the two returned to the police car.
— What is the situation inside? —Siobhan and Emmett approached.
Ethan shook his head and solemnly said:
—Things got even more complicated. They have more hostages with them, and they seem to be losing their minds, we must act quickly. 
After listening to Ethan explain the situation in the gym, everyone was silent.
—Alma, ask the county police and the FBI for support. The suspect now holds a group of students hostage.
Brock hesitated for a moment before pressing the radio. Although they preferred to manage their operations without external intervention, they knew that in certain situations it was necessary to request support.
No one expected that in the gym where the two suspects took refuge there would be a group of students participating in a weekend class. What started as a simple robbery and murder case had quickly escalated to a level that required FBI intervention.
Ethan shook his head, I guess that pair of assholes didn't think this morning and it would all end this way. He was about to say something when an insistent horn interrupted him, and a truck with an antenna on the roof quickly approached. In the body of the vehicle it was read in great characters: "ABC television station, live news".
—What the hell —cursed Brock quietly when he saw a reporter jump out of the car with a microphone in hand.
Probably, during the chase on the street, a passerby seeking notoriety had alerted the television station. It was common for the media to appear in situations like this, but their presence complicated things. Now, under the gaze of the camera, his actions would be even more restricted.
Siobhan quickly stepped forward to arrest the reporter, while Ethan pulled the yellow and white caution tape out of the police car to block the intersection. Brock asked Alma to request additional support.
The curious began to crowd, and the scene turned into chaos. Soon after, the county police arrived in two cars, and several officers descended to help maintain order at the scene.
Just as Ethan was overwhelmed by the noisy scene, a black Chevrolet truck arrived at the site. County officials opened the cord to let the vehicle in.
The Chevrolet stopped slowly, and a white man in a black suit, in his thirties, got out of the car with a calm expression.
— Who is in charge here?
He looked at the gym, then looked around and showed his badge.
—I'm FBI agent Dean Xavier.
—Hello, agent. I'm Officer Brock Lotus.
— Official? Where's your Sheriff? —Dean asked with an inquisitive look.
—Our police chief is out of town today for personal reasons. Currently, I am in charge.
Dean Xavier looked Brock up and down and then scanned the other members of the Banshee Town Police Department. The two or three officers in front of him gave him an ironic smile, and then, putting his hands on his hips, he said:
—Coincidentally it was close. Harrisburg called me. Don't worry, I've already requested a Philadelphia SWAT tactical team. Meanwhile, you and your people can take care of the scene.
Brock was about to respond when the radio on his shoulder made a sound.
—Brock, I got a call from the mayor's wife. One of the suspects asked to speak to you.
—Understood. —Brock looked at Dean and then pressed the radio —. This is Officer Brock Lotus. 
—My request is very simple. Give me a car with a full tank of gasoline and step aside. I will guarantee the safety of the hostages.
—Okay, let's talk about it.
—This is not a negotiation. In an hour I want to see the car ready.
The call was abruptly cut off.
Brock's expression became serious. Ethan pursed his lips and walked away from him.
—Ethan, let me help you with the wound on your face —offered him Siobhan, who was nearby.
Ethan stood behind Siobhan's Chevrolet SUV, allowing her to attend to his wound. As she did so, Ethan looked out the window on the second floor of the gym.
— What are you thinking about? —Siobhan asked while carefully placing a band-aid over the wound.
Ethan raised his chin, signaling Siobhan to look up, and whispered:
—We should check again. Maybe we can find another entrance.
—That is too risky, and the FBI called a SWAT team? —Siobhan replied, with evident concern.
—Don't worry, I won't take unnecessary risks. Also, those guys are just gangsters who robbed the pharmacy and were cornered. They are not professionals, so they will not have strict surveillance.
—That asshole sees us as mere crowd controllers. This is our city —Brock muttered, approaching with an expression of displeasure as he glanced at Dean Xavier —. Ethan, you and Siobhan check the building again. Make sure they don't have a chance to escape somewhere else. If something happens, inform me immediately.
Siobhan sighed, and together with Ethan, they headed to check the gym. This time, they were mainly looking for any place they could enter.
Arriving at a corner behind the gym, Siobhan quickly slapped Ethan on the arm. He followed the direction she was pointing and saw a window on the second floor that was ajar, leaving a small space. Although the location was high, there was an outstanding ledge underneath, which could facilitate the ascent.
— Are you sure you want to do this? Shouldn't we inform Brock first? —Siobhan asked, his concern evident in his voice.
—I will notify you later. Who knows how long it will take for the SWAT tactical team to arrive. If something happens in the meantime, at least if someone enters, we can better understand the internal situation.
Ethan motioned for Siobhan to lean against the wall and cross his hands over his chest. Then, he unhooked the radio, adjusted his gun belt, and with the Remington securely attached to his back, took a couple of steps back.
— List? —asked, calculating the distance to the window.
Seeing Siobhan's assent, Ethan did not hesitate any more. He ran forward, jumped, grabbed Siobhan's hands, and with his help, managed to propel himself upward.
With a drowned moan, his body hit the wall, but his hands managed to hold fast to the protruding ledge. He turned his head to shake off the dust from his mouth, then used the force of his arms to rise, securing his grip on the windowsill.
Under Siobhan's worried murmur, Ethan used all his strength to secure his fingers at the edge of the window. Siobhan watched him nervously, fearing that he might fall.
After catching his breath a few times, Ethan opened the window and slipped inside.
Ethan went in through the window and quickly looked at the room. It was a service room full of buckets, mops, and other cleaning supplies. He gently turned the door handle, making a soft "click".
The lock cylinder moved, but the door remained closed. Without a key, it could only be opened from the inside. He waited a moment, heard no movement, and then slowly opened the door.
Just as he was about to leave, he stopped and leaned over to take off his boots. He left them in the laundry room, carefully closed the door, and walked stealthily down the second-floor hallway. In the distance, faint screams and curses were heard.