บท 470: Chapter 470: You Live or Die
As the first gunshots echoed through the air, Blanco, overseeing the Cartier men's watch event, was initially unfazed. He turned to his assistant, who was also in the car with him, and asked with a hint of confusion, "There's no gunfight scene in today's script, is there?"
The assistant, equally perplexed, shook his head vigorously. This was an advertisement shoot, after all, gunfights were entirely out of place.
However, as more gunshots resounded, Blanco's sense of unease grew. He yanked the car door open and shouted, seeking clarity, "What's happening? Where are those shots coming from?"
Across from him, a man with a bear tattoo on his neck swiftly extracted a black AR rifle from his long bag, a weapon all too familiar in the United States. Blanco, a Frenchman, reacted instinctively. He pulled out a white handkerchief from his pocket and, waving it as a symbol of surrender, hurried to the rear of the car.
The tattooed man, preoccupied and ignoring Blanco's gesture, clutched the rifle and sprinted away, an earpiece relaying urgent instructions. Victor's voice roared through the headphones, "First plan failed. Initiate the second protocol!" The original plan was to capture alive; now, it was a lethal mission.
Boris had promised a hefty sum of three million dollars, for eliminating Martin Davis if the initial plan fell through. This was a life-changing amount, enough to risk everything for.
The tattooed man took cover behind a billboard near a now-deserted bus stop, readying himself for what was to come.
In the midst of chaos, Martin, holding his gun with both hands, crouched low and yelled out to his fellow actors, "Leo, Jack! Get back, find cover! They're after me, stay away!"
Bruce, disregarding the celebrities, pulled Martin towards the Ford van. It was the closest semblance of a shelter in the immediate chaos. The threat of more Russian assailants lurking nearby was unknown but plausible.
Nicholson, quick to grasp the severity of the situation, knew that he and Leonardo would only hinder Martin. Without hesitation, he turned and dashed towards the trailer.
Leonardo, whose athletic prowess was renowned, quickly outpaced Nicholson. Yet, he didn't abandon his fellow actor, echoing Martin's earlier directive to flee from danger. Leonardo reached out, grabbing Nicholson's hand, and together they sprinted towards safety.
Suddenly, another burst of gunfire – Bang! Bang! Bang! – shattered the air. Automatic rifle fire sent leaves and branches from the roadside greenery flying in all directions.
The attackers' focus was solely on Martin. As he dove behind the van's tires for cover, Bruce retrieved an AR rifle from the vehicle and tossed it to Martin. "Get to the front of the car, just like in your training!" he shouted.
No sooner had Bruce spoken than the Ford's front windshield shattered under a hail of bullets, leaving the hood riddled with bullet holes.
Martin quickly switched to the rifle, grabbing a magazine from Bruce and stuffing it into his pocket. "Bruce, it's the Russians – they're here for revenge!" he shouted, adrenaline fueling his movements.
Bruce, brandishing another AR rifle, took a position beside Martin. "Stay alive, you hear me? I'm not attending your funeral!" he barked, firing off several rounds in quick succession.
Martin nodded resolutely, "We'll make it through this. It's either them or us!"
Meanwhile, Leonardo, with his exceptional sprinting ability, had managed to pull Nicholson to the relative safety of the trailer. Nicholson, gasping for breath and with his heart racing, fumbled for his phone. Dialing 911, he exclaimed, "Santa Monica Pier, under attack by gunmen! I'm Jack Nicholson – we've got Martin Davis and Leonardo here... and a bunch of billionaires..."
Before he could catch his breath, he collapsed to the ground, overwhelmed.
Leonardo, still in good physical shape, took out his phone and called a deputy chief he knew. "We're under attack at Santa Monica Pier – Martin and I, surrounded by gunmen..."
Taking a moment to assess their situation, Nicholson suggested they head to the dock management office's building. "It's higher there, we can see what's happening!" he urged, pulling Leonardo in that direction.
On the other side of the pier, screams filled the air. The reality of the situation dawned on the slowest tourists, fans, and reporters, this was no film set but a real shootout. With the crowd in disarray and the Russian assailants indistinguishable among them, the situation became increasingly perilous.
In the midst of the chaos, Martin, understanding the gravity of the situation, knew he couldn't just pick up his gun and open fire without risking the safety of those around him. Instead, he shouted with urgency, "Get out! Everyone, go! Don't stay here!"
His voice carried the dramatic spirit of a seasoned actor, laced with genuine concern. "They're after me. It's dangerous to stay, go now!"
The crowd began to disperse. The fans, heeding Martin's warning, quickly sought safety. Being Americans, many were accustomed to handling stressful situations, including shootings, and instinctively looked for places to hide.
Among the reporters, reactions varied. While some fled, others, driven by a journalistic fervor reminiscent of the renowned reporter Helen from Warner TV, pressed closer. Helen had gained fame for her coverage of the Burbank Middle School incident and even won the Pulitzer Prize. Inspired by her success, these reporters saw an opportunity to capture a potentially career-defining moment, even as the gunfire rang out.
Some lay flat on the ground, cameras held high, trying to capture footage from different angles. A few more intrepid journalists maneuvered to get behind the car for a better view of Martin, their cameras pointed towards the action.
Meanwhile, Boris's bodyguards, having blended in with the tourists, were poised to strike. When Martin's warning caused the crowd to scatter, one bodyguard found himself isolated near a fence. They hadn't brought long guns due to the need for discretion among the tourists.
As Martin shifted positions, the bodyguard, seizing his chance, drew his pistol. Martin, vigilant, spotted him. With the AR rifle's butt against his shoulder, he fired.
Bang! Bang! Bang! – the shots echoed, a fierce exchange between pistol and rifle.
At a distance of nearly thirty meters, a pistol round struck a car near Martin, while his rifle rounds hit the opposing bodyguard in the chest and abdomen repeatedly. The power of the rifle at such a range was undeniable; the bodyguard fell forward, lifeless.
After the confrontation, Martin quickly took cover behind the car's engine, pressing himself against the tires. Bullets peppered the front of the car and the ground where he had just stood, sending shards of metal flying. Miraculously, Martin remained unscathed by the ricochets.
However, the gunfire had revealed the positions of four gunmen. One, with heavily accented English, shouted, "Martin Davis, you'll die today!"
Martin, opting for stealth over confrontation, peeked the rifle's muzzle out and aimed towards the source of the voice. He fired several rounds in quick succession, silencing the voice.
As more gunfire erupted, Martin recoiled, seeking better cover. He noticed a few reporters, now dozens of meters away, setting up their cameras, capturing the unfolding drama. Martin gestured towards them, trying to communicate, asking about the gunmen's positions. But the reporters seemed either oblivious or indifferent to his plight, their focus solely on capturing the scene.
Atop the second floor of the dock management office, Leonardo and Nicholson had an unobstructed view of the pier tour area. They could see four men in black, moving with tactical precision, covering each other as they advanced towards the Ford.
Martin and Bruce were in a perilous situation, soon to be trapped between their assailants, with danger closing in from all sides.
Aware of the escalating danger, Nicholson, drawing on his decades of experience and diverse knowledge acquired through his acting career, understood the urgency of the situation. He turned to Leonardo and advised with a sense of urgency, "I'll alert Martin. Stay low, Leonardo, and keep your head down."
Taking a deep breath, he then projected his voice with all the clarity and strength he could muster, calling out to Martin below, "Martin, watch out! They're coordinating their attack. You've got one on your left, one on your right, they're closing in, less than fifty meters apart!"
Nicholson's understanding of tactical language, though gleaned from acting roles, proved invaluable in this real-life crisis. He continued, shouting directions, "You've got targets at 10 o'clock, 12 o'clock, 1 o'clock, and 3 o'clock! The nearest is only forty meters away!"
Meanwhile, Leonardo, fraught with tension and frustration, muttered under his breath, "Where's the LAPD? Damn it, they should've been here by now."
Boris, whose grasp of English was rudimentary but sufficient, overheard Nicholson's warnings. He barked orders in Russian to his men, "Kirilenko, Sergey, provide cover! Nicholas, on me. This might be our last chance for vengeance."
At over 60, Boris was a hardened individual, and his actions were merciless. Two sharp AR rifle shots rang out, pinning down Martin and Bruce with suppressive fire.
He and Nicholas moved with a calculated precision, flanking their targets like a pair of encroaching crab claws.
Martin, hearing Nicholson's shouts, quickly assessed the situation. He realized that waiting for the LAPD might not be an option, they had to act fast. "Bruce, cover me!" he yelled.
Bruce, lying prone on the ground, peered out just enough to aim his AR rifle in the direction of the incoming gunfire. The brass shells ejected rhythmically as he fired.
Martin, recalling the situation he faced at Burbank Middle School, knew that relying on the LAPD wasn't a viable option. Survival meant taking action. He took advantage of the momentary lull in enemy fire, courtesy of Bruce's cover fire, and dashed out. He dove behind the concrete base of a billboard, mirroring the agility he had honed in action movie sequences.
From his new position, Martin quickly spotted a target. Raising his AR rifle, he aimed with the precision of a seasoned marksman, his years of training focusing his aim. The crosshair found its mark on one of the gunmen, and he pulled the trigger.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Sergei, who was providing cover for Boris from behind the bus stop, was caught off guard. The bullets hit the billboard, ricocheted off the metal pillars, and struck Sergei, who crumpled to the ground without a sound.
Martin, nimble and quick, darted out again, seeking refuge behind a mobile vendor's cart. Amidst the chaos, a strange scream pierced the air, and Martin felt the cart shuddering violently under the barrage of gunfire. Bullets riddled the two vehicles, and in a bizarre twist, a piece of a burger flew out, striking Martin on the head.
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