From a bird's-eye view of Hollywood, a speedboat sliced through the waterway, while a car chase raged along the adjacent riverside road.
A motorcycle followed closely behind the cars, weaving left and right, yet each time, it was forcibly blocked by the vehicle ahead, unable to break through.
Inside one of the cars, Monica hunched down, bullets whizzing past from behind. Every window in her vehicle was already shattered.
Thankfully, the attackers were using submachine guns, firing 9mm Parabellum rounds, which lacked strong penetration. If they had been using 7.62mm or 5.56mm rifle rounds, her corpse would already be cold.
She had been under constant suppression throughout the chase. Aside from taking out one enemy vehicle with her handgun at the beginning, she hadn't had a single chance to return fire.
Ever since turning onto this narrow riverside road, she had been pinned down, unable to fight back.
One wrong move, and she could end up in the river.
Frustration boiled inside her. She missed fighting alongside Owen. Sure, it had been dangerous, but at least it was an exhilarating fight.
And it was all because of that bastard Alex.
Gritting her teeth, she kept one eye on the speedboat, determined that if she caught Alex again, she'd break his damn nose.
Suddenly, she noticed the boat slowing down—and heading toward shore.
That wasn't normal.
On the opposite riverbank, two yellow civilian Hummers were also slowing down.
Clearly, they were connected to the boat.
Shit. Someone else was swooping in.
The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind it.
Before she could react—
Riiiiing!
Her phone rang.
Monica was startled for a second before realizing—
This was the temporary phone Owen had bought.
Only Owen had the number.
No one else could be calling her.
She answered—
"Owen?"
On the other end, Owen's voice was sharp: "Monica, brake! NOW!"
Monica didn't hesitate.
She had no idea why, but she trusted Owen completely.
If Owen told her to drive into the river, she'd do it without a second thought.
She slammed the brake pedal to the floor.
SCREEEECH!
Her off-road vehicle skidded violently, tires shrieking, leaving long skid marks on the asphalt.
BANG!
BANG! BANG!
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The pursuing vehicles were too close.
They hadn't expected Monica to brake so suddenly—
One after another, they smashed into each other, including CTU's vehicles.
Owen, of course, had already swerved to the side, avoiding the pile-up.
Seizing the moment, he gunned the throttle, darting through the chaos via a narrow side path.
This was where the motorcycle had the advantage.
On this already cramped road, the chain-reaction crash turned it into a nightmare of tangled vehicles—
Except for Owen, who slipped through effortlessly.
"Pa-pa-pa! Pa-pa!"
As he sped past, he fired at the stalled enemy vehicles.
The mercenaries weren't slow to react—
They dodged and returned fire, but Owen's blazing speed carried him out of their range almost instantly.
Then, the gunfight erupted.
Behind him, CTU agents poured out of their vehicles, returning fire as they advanced.
Their goal wasn't Alex—that was the FBI's business.
Their target was these mercenaries—
The bastards who had turned Los Angeles into a war zone.
Now, they were trapped—
CTU behind them. The river to their side. Storefronts blocking their escape.
They had nowhere to run.
The only option left?
Fight to the death.
CTU had brought plenty of reinforcements.
Armed with submachine guns and assault rifles, their numbers and positioning gave them the upper hand.
Though not as experienced as mercenaries, they had firepower and tactical superiority.
As long as they kept them pinned down, the mercenaries were doomed.
But Owen wasn't sticking around.
A loud engine roar signaled his arrival at Monica's vehicle.
Bullets continued to ping off the ground nearby.
"Get on!"
Monica shut off the engine, tossed the car keys into the river, then jumped out, gripping her M4A1 as she ran toward the bike.
Now, she finally understood why Owen had made her brake so suddenly.
Climbing onto the modified Augusta, she wrapped her arms around Owen, pressing tightly against his back.
"LOOK! He's getting away!"
Her voice was right by his ear, her breath hot against his skin.
But Owen had no time to enjoy it.
Following her gaze—
On the opposite riverbank, Alex was climbing into a yellow Hummer.
Seeing Owen looking his way, Alex grinned smugly and flipped him off.
Clearly, while they had been busy fighting, another faction had swooped in to claim Alex.
Owen recalled Chloe's earlier warning—
There were three groups involved.
Was this the third one?
On the far bank, the two yellow Hummers kicked up a cloud of dust, speeding off.
Owen's Augusta roared to life—
Chasing them down the opposite side of the river.
Two parallel trails of dust rose along both banks of the river.
Monica, finally free to fight, raised her rifle and opened fire from the backseat.
"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Her signature three-round bursts filled the air.
Owen suddenly yelped in pain.
A scorching-hot shell casing had ejected straight into his collar, burning his neck.
"Shit! Monica!"
Monica laughed sheepishly, quickly adjusting her stance, angling the rifle sideways to prevent more casings from hitting Owen.
She continued firing.
But no matter how many shots she landed, the Hummers didn't react.
No one returned fire—they were focused solely on escaping.
Ahead, the river ended—
And both roads merged into a main highway.
The Hummers swerved onto the ramp, disappearing into traffic.
But Owen had a problem—
On his side of the river, the road didn't connect to the highway.
Shit.
No time to think.
He yelled over his shoulder—
"HOLD ON!"
Then—
He slammed the throttle.
The front wheel lifted—
And they launched off the overpass.
The motorcycle soared through the air—plummeting straight toward the highway below.
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