Despite the joking around, Jack was quite fond of Angela and Wesley as a couple. Though they often bickered, their relationship remained solid over time.
In fact, apart from the self-narrated Hunter couple, this pair was one of the rare positive representations in most American TV shows. They faced life-and-death crises together, navigated daily life's ups and downs, and eventually had two children.
Jack thought it wouldn't be bad to have a loving, ordinary life like theirs. With this thought, he and John headed to the parking lot, where Hannah had already taken the unconscious Angela home.
Due to Los Angeles' temperate Mediterranean climate, the weather was mild year-round. Even in December, the evening temperature was still in the teens. The cool night breeze refreshed the slightly tipsy pair.
John's old Ford pickup was parked closer. As they reached his car, Jack was about to wave goodbye when a screech of tires sounded behind them.
A chilling sensation shot up Jack's spine, instantly sobering him. He shoved John to the right side of the pickup and dove in after him. Almost immediately, rapid gunfire erupted, bullets pelting around them like hail.
Jack pressed John's head down, trying to keep both of them behind the front wheel. The thin steel of civilian cars couldn't stop automatic rifle fire; only the engine block and thick wheel rims offered any real protection.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly. Nearly every car alarm in the parking lot blared. Jack drew his Colt Python from his shoulder holster, silently counting seconds, but the gunfire continued relentlessly.
John's pickup was soon riddled with holes, its gas tank punctured, leaking fuel. Jack, growing restless and considering a risky counterattack, finally heard the gunfire cease.
Fearing a trick, Jack feigned a peek, saw no reaction, then cautiously half-exposed himself to retaliate, only to glimpse two red taillights speeding away.
"Fuck," Jack swore loudly. The recent barrage hadn't spiked his adrenaline, but his anger was through the roof.
John, still crouching by the truck, was drenched in cold sweat. He hadn't experienced the intense shootout at the Bronson Building and was visibly shaken by the sudden assault.
Jack pulled him up and told him to call the police. He took out his phone to call Hannah, summarizing the situation and advising her to wake Angela and return quickly to avoid potential danger.
Jack roughly understood the déjà vu he felt when seeing that whore threaten John earlier. If he remembered correctly, Zoe died protecting John in this storyline.
Feeling a surge of frustration, he reminded himself to stay calm. He knew Zoe died in this event but couldn't recall the specifics. Regret over not paying closer attention to the show wouldn't help now; they had to take it step by step.
Within five minutes, Hannah's Mustang roared into the parking lot. She jumped out, checked Jack over anxiously, and only relaxed when she saw he was unharmed.
Angela, forced awake with a bottle of cold mineral water, looked around the chaotic scene in a daze, still processing what she'd missed.
Ten minutes later, a swarm of police cars arrived, sirens blaring. Tim, Lucy, and Nila, in plain clothes, also showed up after being notified at home.
Tim gaped at John's bullet-ridden pickup in disbelief. "Who did you two piss off?"
Jack pointed at John. "Ask him. They were clearly targeting him. The assailants were heavily armed, spraying over a hundred rounds at us with modified drum-magazine assault rifles as soon as we reached the truck."
"When I was about to retaliate, they drove off. I only saw the taillights, not the license plate, suggesting they're experienced professionals."
Still shaken, John shook his head, looking bewildered.
Lucy and Nila, done questioning the night patrol officers, approached.
"The night shift colleagues checked the surroundings, but no one saw the shooters," Lucy said.
"Or no one wants to admit they saw them," Nila added.
"They found the car used by the shooters; it was reported stolen this afternoon."
Just then, Zoe and Chief Gray walked over.
Zoe revealed the truth. "Intelligence indicates you've been marked for assassination by the Southern Front."
Tim looked displeased. "The old rookie got a gang bounty on him before me? Guess I need to step up my game. This is unbelievable."
Typical Tim.
Fully awake, Angela had a different take. "This likely isn't about John's police work but personal grudges. Otherwise, why would the white supremacist Southern Front target him?"
John, even more confused, asked, "Excuse me, white supremacist gang? Assassination order? What's going on?"
Chief Gray explained, "Gangs usually avoid targeting police to avoid massive trouble unless a cop disrespected a gang member, prompting an assassination order."
John, mouth agape, looked around, not comprehending.
Jack sighed. "Remember the whore you arrested today? She threatened you."
"She tore her dress and accused me of humiliating her," John suddenly realized.
Zoe nodded. "Astrid Haise, a woman linked to the Southern Front's leader. They're one of California's most violent gangs."
"Because of her pillow talk, the gang leader ordered all members to hunt you down," Chief Gray added.
"And what about me? I helped John arrest her," Nila said eagerly, viewing a gang bounty as a badge of honor, like Tim.
Chief Gray looked exasperated, unsure whether to feel relieved or frustrated by his subordinates' reckless attitudes.
"The handcuffing was done by John, so the hit order is on him."
Nila looked disappointed, glaring at a seemingly relieved Tim. This former undercover detective, now a veteran officer, was clearly fearless.
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