After tailing Matthew for so long, the journalists and paparazzi had developed a certain routine. When they saw Matthew's black Mercedes van arrive at the small parking lot in front of Angel Agency, they parked nearby. Some media outlets with close ties to the agency, like two TMZ paparazzi and Disney-affiliated entertainment reporters, as well as ABC Entertainment's broadcast van, positioned themselves at the edges of the lot.
These vehicles had their respective media logos, so the Angel Agency security didn't bother to chase them away.
The small parking lot belonged to Angel Agency, and not all reporters and paparazzi received such favorable treatment. Most of the vehicles that had followed the Mercedes had to settle for parking along the roadside, their occupants quickly exiting with cameras and video recorders in hand, ready to begin their routine of capturing footage, just as they had been doing for the past week.
Those who arrived a little later found the roadside packed with vehicles. They had no choice but to park further ahead and then rush back, hoping to still get their shots.
Just as most reporters were aiming their cameras at the Mercedes, an old Dodge muscle car roared past like a beast, crashing into the small parking lot and speeding toward Matthew's van.
"Oh my God!" a female reporter cried out instinctively.
The paparazzi and reporters on both sides of Angel Agency were stunned, their eyes wide. Everyone understood that at the speed the Dodge was going, someone was bound to get hurt.
Could that person be Matthew Horner?
Was this a deliberate assassination? As the thought crossed their minds, the shock quickly turned into excitement. What did it matter if Matthew Horner lived or died? All they cared about was the news—the explosive, headline-grabbing news they could sell for big bucks.
And wasn't this exactly what was happening?
Driven by professional instinct, the paparazzi and reporters, whether excited or shocked, kept their cameras trained on the scene, capturing every frame.
Hearing his bodyguard John's warning and seeing the Dodge muscle car speeding toward him, Matthew didn't hesitate. He leaped out of the van with lightning speed.
Rolling as he hit the ground, he barely had time to gather himself when he heard the violent sound of the crash behind him.
Boom!
First came the sickening sound of metal colliding.
Creak!
Then the ear-piercing screech of metal twisting.
Crash!
Finally, the sound of shattering glass falling to the ground.
Matthew turned to look. The Dodge muscle car and the Mercedes van had crashed head-on like two lovers in a violent embrace. The front ends of both vehicles were severely deformed.
The Mercedes looked worse, but the area behind the hood hadn't taken much damage; even the windshield remained intact.
The Dodge, with its powerful engine, had taken the brunt of the impact. Despite initiating the crash, the car looked utterly destroyed. Most of its windows were shattered, the windshield spiderwebbed with cracks, and the body appeared bent out of shape.
After a quick glance at the two vehicles, not even for a full second, Matthew checked the driver's seat of the van. The airbags had deployed, surrounding his bodyguard and driver like giant white balloons.
He could see that the driver was still moving.
This wasn't one of those stripped-down, bare-bones vehicles but a specially equipped Mercedes designed for him as a brand ambassador. Its safety features were top-notch. The driver was likely not in any life-threatening danger.
"Good," Matthew thought, just as he was about to sprint toward the Angel Agency entrance.
He glanced at the Dodge and saw through its cracked windshield that someone seemed to be unconscious behind the deployed airbag.
From the moment he had leaped from the van to this point, only a few seconds had passed. Recognizing the danger, he moved quickly to flee, his reaction speed already impressively fast.
Though he had trained in various military skills and undergone rigorous combat training, it had been for acting roles, not survival. This was his first real-life encounter with such a situation.
Rather than freezing in place for ten seconds, the fact that he had immediately reacted showed his strong nerves and mental resilience.
But just as he took his first step, gunfire rang out.
Bang!
Matthew was an excellent marksman, regularly practicing at Nebula's shooting range. He could instantly identify the sound as that of an M9 pistol.
"F@#K!" he cursed, his actions quicker than his words as he dropped to the ground, hands covering his head. Bullets weren't something even the world's strongest person could withstand.
As he lay on the ground, Matthew peeked toward the source of the gunfire but found that the van blocked his view. He couldn't see the shooter.
The high van, coupled with his position on the ground, meant he was completely shielded. The shooter wasn't aiming at him.
The gunfire hadn't even finished echoing when a grunt of pain sounded just a few meters away. John, his bodyguard, had been hit and fell to the ground.
It was clear John had been trying to protect him but had been shot.
Matthew glanced at John's shoulder, which was now a bloody mess.
"Run!" John shouted at him. "Go! I'll cover you!"
This wasn't a movie, where getting shot in a non-lethal area left a character unscathed. John's left side was almost paralyzed, but despite the agony, he drew his gun with his right hand and fired two shots into the air.
Matthew understood his intention. The gunman was just on the other side of the van, and John was trying to buy him time to escape to the safety of the Angel Agency.
A bodyguard's primary duty was, after all, to protect.
Without hesitation, Matthew knew that while he didn't know who was behind the attack, the target was definitely him, not his bodyguard.
Just as Matthew was about to move, another round of gunfire erupted.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
This time, it wasn't a pistol but a rifle—and it was fully automatic.
Bullets peppered the ground between the Mercedes van and the agency, kicking up smoke as they struck the cement.
The shooter had anticipated his move.
Matthew quickly dropped back to the ground, too afraid to move. Lying here, he had the van and another car for cover, but if he tried to run, he'd be a sitting duck.
He wasn't about to gamble that the shooter's aim was worse than Nebula's.
The rifle fire continued, the bullets inching closer to him and John, with the occasional ricochet zipping past.
Ricochets were unpredictable, making the area even more dangerous. Without a second thought, Matthew dragged John behind the van. Moments later, bullets slammed into the van, causing the heavy vehicle to shudder from the impact.
Running toward Angel Agency was no longer an option.
John, determined to keep the attackers at bay, risked firing back whenever there was a lull in the gunfire. Matthew, meanwhile, cautiously peeked through the van's windows to get a look at the situation.
He spotted a bald man wielding a heavily modified AK-series rifle, standing behind a Ford sedan, firing toward them.
On the other side of the Ford, a Latino man was aiming an M9 in their direction.
The two gunmen seemed wary of John's return fire and were using the Ford for cover while continuing their assault.
Matthew glanced back toward the Angel Agency. He could see shadows of security personnel at the door, and it was likely someone had already called the police. The LAPD should arrive in five or six minutes, tops. They just had to hold out until then…
At that moment, he saw Helen Herman. His agent seemed to be trying to come outside but was being held back by several employees.
They were only about 30 meters apart, and Matthew could clearly see the worry etched on Helen's face.
Barely a minute and a half had passed since the incident began, but the parking lot outside Angel Agency had already turned into a battleground, with bullets flying and chaos reigning.
However, there were plenty of people who found this exciting.
Having instinctively started filming as soon as they exited their vehicles, over 95% of the reporters and paparazzi had captured footage of the crash and gunfight.
Some bold individuals, using trees and other cover, even moved closer in hopes of getting better shots.
Two reporters from The Sun stationed in LA, along with a few others, had quietly made their way behind a cement barricade near the agency's parking lot, about 30 meters from the Mercedes van. Using the cement for cover, they excitedly set up their cameras. When their lenses captured Matthew Horner cowering behind the car, they almost screamed with excitement.
On the other side, about 30 meters from the Dodge muscle car, two paparazzi noticed that ABC's reporter was also filming from behind a barricade.
"Born, how much do you think we could sell footage of Matthew Horner being shot for?" one of the older paparazzi asked his companion in a low voice. "A hundred thousand dollars?"
Born snorted coldly. "At least! It'll also help me settle a score for a couple of friends!"
He was British and had heard about what happened in London. Two of his friends were facing jail time after being fired from their newspaper.
Born suddenly had an idea. "Even if Matthew Horner doesn't die, we can still use this footage to destroy his reputation. Isn't he supposed to be a hero? Doesn't he claim to be skilled in combat and shooting? Doesn't he like playing the hero off-screen too? Once people see him cowering in fear during an attack, who's going to buy his action-hero roles anymore?"
The older paparazzi instantly understood. "His image will definitely collapse!"
With so many reporters on-site, there were bound to be plenty
who would revel in seeing Matthew's downfall.
Blood was now dripping from John's shoulder, staining the ground. Despite the unbearable pain and the fact that half his body was numb, the ex-soldier continued to fulfill his duty, firing back whenever there was a pause in the gunfire to prevent the attackers from getting closer.
It had only been about a minute and a half, but to Matthew, it felt like a lifetime. However, he still hadn't heard any police sirens.
Suddenly, through the cracked windshield of the Dodge muscle car, Matthew's peripheral vision caught sight of something. The airbag had deflated, revealing the figure of a bloodied Latino man, clearly injured in the crash but still moving.
Though dazed, the man began reaching for a weapon while opening the car door with his other hand.
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