In the small school store, an eerie silence gripped everyone as Martin dashed outside to rescue a comrade. Words eluded them, and Elizabeth parted her lips, yet the sentence she yearned to hear never left Martin's lips. She wiped away her tears, her heart harboring one thought—this is the embodiment of a true man.
Choosing to remain hidden in the perilous proximity of the gangsters, only to emerge at the opportune moment to subdue the criminal without regard for his own life—it was an act of heroism that epitomized masculinity. To Elizabeth, there could be no doubt; Martin embodied the very essence of what it meant to be a man.
This indelible moment etched itself into Elizabeth's memory, never to be forgotten.
Blake, who had previously harbored a shallow understanding of masculinity, now found herself echoing the sentiment, "It's over, I'm done." In her heart, she recognized that being handsome, having a good physique, and being capable paled in comparison to the true essence of manhood embodied by Martin. Leonardo, once her ideal, now seemed little more than a decorative vase in comparison to Martin, her newfound ultimate idol.
As it's known, the most devoted of fans have unwavering admiration for their idols.
The others were similarly grateful to Martin. Without his intervention, they might well have met a tragic fate.
However, reporter Helen stood apart. She seized her DV camera and hurriedly followed Martin out of the convenience store, sensing that a significant news story was unfolding—a story with Pulitzer Prize potential. In the world of journalism, seizing the moment was paramount, and Helen was no exception.
Meanwhile, as the tragic event unfolded within the campus, the wailing sirens of Burbank police cars pierced the air, casting the campus into disarray. A multitude of panicked individuals sought escape, while numerous police vehicles sealed off all campus entrances. News helicopters from various outlets and LAPD choppers buzzed overhead. The LAPD's SWAT unit arrived in an armored vehicle designed to withstand explosions.
Inside the basketball gym, Bruce, clutching a dilapidated pistol, kept Victor at bay, but the relentless AR gunfire from the opposing side left him deeply concerned for Martin's safety. Just as he contemplated his next move, the resounding boom of a shotgun shook the gym.
Bruce swiftly redirected his aim toward the source of the sound. At the corner, Victor ceased firing and urgently beckoned, "Sergey, get over here quickly! There's an enemy in the corner, let's attack from both sides." His voice bore a manic intensity as Sergey obediently charged along the arc-shaped corridor.
Victor retrieved the rifle and fired, shouting, "I'm coming!"
With no alternative, Bruce pivoted to confront Victor, providing covering fire to fend him off.
Meanwhile, Martin brandished his firearm and sprinted relentlessly, recognizing that Old Bu's life hung in the balance. The corridor seemed endless as it receded into the distance, but Martin's focus remained unwavering.
In his ears, the wind whistled as he continued his headlong rush. Then, finally, he spotted a figure ahead—a figure clad in tactical gear, wielding a shotgun.
In that critical moment, Martin had eyes only for Bruce , ignoring the bloody corpse lying in his path. Bruce was the sole occupant of his thoughts.
Sergey, in his heedless sprint forward, failed to monitor what lay behind him.
Martin came to a halt, acknowledging his inability to fire accurately while sprinting at such breakneck speed. He pressed against the outer wall, shouldering the AR gun, allowing his racing breath to steady. His focus honed on the figure ahead.
Just as Sergey was about to retrieve the shotgun, Martin squeezed the trigger.
Bang, bang, bang—three rapid shots struck Sergey in the back.
Despite Sergey's body armor, the point-blank range and the tremendous kinetic energy of the bullets left him sprawled on the ground, blood flowing from his mouth and nose.
Martin shouted, "Bruce, it's me, leave this area to me!"
"You damned idiot, don't rush into the fray and get yourself killed!" Bruce's familiar retort reached Martin's ears.
Upon hearing Bruce's voice, Martin felt a surge of relief. "You bumbling oaf, if I hadn't shown up, your rear end would have been filled with holes!"
Bruce, maintaining his stance against the assailant ahead, interjected, "Then you'd better help me hold off this guy. He's very relentless!"
"I only smell something foul!" Martin retorted humorously but remained alert, pointing his weapon at Sergey on the ground and edging closer.
However, as he was not a professional law enforcement officer or soldier, so he still refrained from emptying out his magazine.
"It's me, Helen!" Inspired by Martin's example, Helen approached and disclosed her identity. She turned slowly, clutching her DV camera.
Martin spared her only a quick glance before proceeding to inspect Sergey. He nudged the shotgun out of reach and removed Sergey's pistol, which he subsequently discarded.
Influenced by countless movie counterattacks, even though Sergey lay unconscious and severely wounded, Martin meticulously tied his shoelaces, secured his hands, and bound them behind his back.
"Sergey, Sergey!" Victor called out upon hearing the AR gunshots. Receiving no response, he grew increasingly vexed, the two opposing adversaries occupied with their own conversation. Victor burst out in frustration, "You two idiots, we're in the middle of a shootout here; please show some respect!"
Bruce and Martin, side by side, replied in kind, disregarding whether they could hit their unseen opponent, discharging three rounds at the source of the gunfire. Subsequent to their barrage, silence fell in that direction.
Victor found himself in an awkward predicament at this juncture. Positioned favorably for concealment, he lacked an escape route. Stepping out would expose him to the enemy's line of fire.
Bruce relieved Martin of the AR rifle and assessed the situation.
Meanwhile, Martin secured the pistol, took on a defensive posture, and approached Helen, who had followed him closely. "Call 911," he urged, recognizing that the police might already be on their way.
Helen, holding her DV camera in one hand, retrieved her mobile phone with the other and dialed 911. After a brief exchange, the call was promptly redirected to the LAPD's top command staff at Burbank Middle School.
A voice on the other end identified itself, "This is Bill Bratton from the LAPD. Please identify yourself."
"I'm Warner TV reporter Helen Kohner," Helen responded. Martin then took the phone and added, "Martin Davis, yes, the actor here for a promotional event."
Bill Bratton inquired about their situation, and Martin explained, "My bodyguard and I are currently facing an armed assailant. Can you confirm how many gunmen are involved?"
The response came swiftly, "We believe there are three of them."
Martin felt a surge of relief, stating, "We've managed to subdue one of the gunmen, seriously injure another, and the remaining one is pinned down at the intersection of three corridors in the player tunnel."
Bill Bratton expressed his astonishment, "You've neutralized most of them even before our LAPD even arrived?"
Martin affirmed confidently, "Yes."
Bill Bratton instructed, "Stay on the line, and maintain contact."
He immediately contacted the SWAT team leader and urged them to move swiftly and forcefully to avoid losing credit for the operation.
Soon, Bill Bratton's voice returned over the phone, "We'll launch our assault in three minutes to divert the criminals' attention."
Bruce held the AR rifle, ready to defend their position, while Martin understood the importance of building a positive relationship with the LAPD for his future in Los Angeles. He agreed to distract the remaining gunman, cautioning, "Be careful; he's armed with an AR rifle."
As Victor prepared to make a move, Bruce fired a few rounds to deter him, considering the automatic rifles wielded by the assailants on the other side.
Martin devised a plan to engage the gunman verbally: "Hey, there are three of you there, right? Let me share some good news. Those two comrades of yours are now on their way to hell, all thanks to me! Do you know why they can't lay a finger on me? It's because I'm the leader of the Coca-Cola Cult, capable of commanding Coca-Cola bottles to launch attacks." Martin continued his inventive tale, "The big guy with the AR rifle tried to shoot me, but I made a casual move, and dozens of Coca-Cola bottles floated up, hitting him from his head to toe. As for Sergey, do you know his current predicament? He's got a Coca-Cola bottle in his mouth and one in up his rear end… well, let's say, he thoroughly enjoyed his last moment as if he's was paradise!"
Helen was taken aback. What was this Coca-Cola Cult? She had just witnessed Martin using Coca-Cola bottles to incapacitate a convenience store gangster.
Martin called out once more, "Protect your head and, uh, other parts; here comes the Coca-Cola!"
"Sergey! Andrei!" Victor cried out, but received no response. He shouted frantically, "I'm going to get you! You're all dead!"
Gunshots echoed from the player tunnel, leaving Victor, armed with a rifle, riddled with bullets from the SWAT team.
Bruce instructed, "The LAPD is here; cooperate with them."
Martin discarded the pistol, wiped the blood from his face, turned on his phone, and reported, "Your operation succeeded. My associates and I are taking cover at the left corner. Be cautious, so you don't accidentally harm us."
Bill Bratton reassured, "Don't worry; they'll be there shortly."
Helen turned off her DV camera, removed the small storage disk, and concealed it between her breasts, wedged securely between her assets. She then retrieved a new storage disk from her pocket, affixed it to the DV camera, and resumed filming.
Noticing Martin's gaze, Helen winked at him. Martin responded with a discreet thumbs-up, pretending not to have seen anything, and returned his attention elsewhere.
Bruce set aside the AR rifle and raised his hands.
The sound of approaching footsteps grew louder, and several SWAT team members turned toward the source of the sound.
Martin activated his phone and announced, "I'm Martin Davis..."
One of the masked SWAT team members interjected, "Thanks, man."
Martin gestured towards their location, saying, "Over there lies a subdued gunman—alive but incapacitated. Further ahead is a convenience store, where another assailant is detained, also alive."
The masked officer appeared impressed, remarking, "You've done quite a job."
Martin shrugged modestly, "I'm Just lucky."
Additional LAPD personnel and medics arrived, and the trio of Martins received medical attention.
Apart from a minor cut on Martin's hand from a broken glass shards from the bottle, he had no other injuries.
Bruce emerged unscathed.
Helen sustained minor bumps from fleeing in panic but no injuries of consequence.
An LAPD superintendent approached the three Martins and politely requested their presence outside.
The entire campus had been sealed off by layers of LAPD security, preventing both the criminals' escape and journalists' access to the scene.
Helen accompanied Martin as they made their way outside. Her DV camera had been confiscated as evidence.
Martin, seated in the back of a vehicle, was attended to by paramedics. "Thank you, but I'm fine; just a few surface wounds," he assured them, gesturing towards the basketball gym. "There are many others in need of assistance over there."
The medical staff nodded and hurried towards the gym with their medical supplies.
Bruce handed Martin cotton wool, purified water, and iodine to tend to his wounds.
As a stretcher carried out a body, Helen watched with trepidation, murmuring, "The rest of my life..."
She turned to Martin, her eyes brimming with gratitude. "Thanks to you, I made it out alive."
Martin responded playfully, "In that case, Helen, please say some kind words about me on the news."
However, Helen's reply was heartfelt and sincere, "Martin, you're a hero."
With a relieved smile, Martin continued to watch over the scene, knowing that this day would leave a lasting mark on all their lives.