Jack offered a shy smile, pointing to the cut on his mouth to indicate that he wasn't entirely unscathed.
"Maybe that guy's bones were just brittle. It was a tight situation; I had to give it my all."
In truth, even though Jack's combat skills had reached a master level, the quick takedown of the two assassins today wasn't due to any particular technique but rather his superhuman physical abilities. The female assassin's thin limbs couldn't penetrate his defenses, and while the bald man's muscles looked intimidating, they were mostly for show—no better than those gym heroes.
Had it been one of those barcoded killers, Jack wouldn't have dared to engage in hand-to-hand combat. He would have needed to cast a healing spell on himself before even thinking of firing a shot.
Ray King and David Rossi seemed to have a history together, their conversation held in hushed tones. After a while, the thin old man left a few IRS agents to guard Mecia and hurried off.
David Rossi wasn't here specifically for Jack; it seemed he had business in LA and decided to drop by. However, it was clear that he was pleased with Maureen's recommendation.
Knowing that Jack had been up all night, Rossi showed genuine concern, advising him to get some rest and assuming an authoritative demeanor.
"We'll meet again soon. I hope our first collaboration goes smoothly."
With that cryptic remark, David Rossi bid farewell and left the hospital.
---
Scene Break ---
Jack's administrative leave hadn't even ended when John eagerly dragged him out of his house and shoved him into his newly purchased Toyota Tundra.
As they passed the San Fernando Valley sign, Jack started to get nervous. What kind of side gig had this old timer picked up recently?
"Where exactly are we going?"
If John didn't explain soon, Jack was ready to jump out of the car. He had standards—selling his skills, not his dignity. This place was too risky; acting in movies, no matter how lucrative, was off the table.
"I found the car you wanted." John's voice brimmed with barely concealed excitement.
"An 80s classic muscle car, supposedly in excellent condition, and the owner is asking only $5000."
"The 80s? Only $5000?"
Jack wondered if he had misheard or if John had lost his mind.
His old beat-up car had cost him $3000. An 80s muscle car, unlike those vintage cars with investment potential, shouldn't be priced so high.
"You'll be pleasantly surprised, I promise!"
John was confident, but Jack remained skeptical.
The 40-minute drive wasn't long, and soon John pulled into a farm, parking in front of a dilapidated barn under the guidance of an elderly man who seemed to be at least 80 years old.
"Mr. Robbins, my friend would like to see your treasure."
Seeing John act as if he was on a pilgrimage, Jack might have thought they were in on a scam together if he didn't know John better.
The old man shuffled to the barn door and struggled to open it. Jack and John quickly stepped in to help.
"This... is this a Pontiac Firebird?"
Jack was speechless, his excitement evident as he stammered while pointing at the black car in the barn.
John, with a smug look, corrected him. "To be precise, it's a 1982 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am."
Jack didn't mind the thick layer of dust covering the car and tried to open the driver's door. Although the iconic red scanner light on the front was missing, the real disappointment came when he saw the interior. It lacked the flashy dashboard and the futuristic steering wheel.
Sure, in this world, there were no sci-fi TV shows stitched into reality, no Knight Industries, and no KITT running rampant in Los Santos.
But as he traced his fingers over the car's sleek, flowing lines, Jack felt a pang of nostalgia that almost brought tears to his eyes.
John completely misunderstood Jack's love for American muscle cars. Initially, it was more of a casual interest. Hannah's Ford Mustang Shelby GT500 had always made him envious, so he had been toying with the idea of getting a used muscle car for fun.
Never in his wildest dreams did he expect John to find him such a gem from his childhood fantasies.
Seeing Jack's infatuation, John worked his magic, chatting with the old man and even managed to haggle the price down by another $500.
They paid a $200 deposit and arranged to return with a tow truck in a week before heading back.
"The barn is dry, and although the car hasn't been started in thirty years, it has less than 20,000 miles on the odometer. The body is in great shape. I even found a modification shop willing to restore it for just $2000."
John had thought of everything, but Jack had grander plans. As he Googled the car's details on his phone, new ideas began to take shape in his mind.
---
Scene Break ---
The Wilshire precinct was buzzing with activity. Not only was the outgoing Chief Anderson making a rare appearance, but Jack also spotted several familiar faces.
David Rossi, dressed in a bespoke Italian suit, stood next to another unfamiliar middle-aged man beside Zoe. SWAT team captain Hondo, whom Jack hadn't seen in a while, was also in the back of the conference room.
Even Channel 8 news anchor Tyler Kelly was outside the meeting room, microphone in hand, waving enthusiastically at Jack with a cameraman in tow.
Superintendent Grey, looking solemn, nodded in acknowledgment before stepping up to the podium.
"This morning at 5 AM, the California Women's Center Prison initiated the transfer of prisoner 081316, known as Rosalind Dyer, a rare female serial killer."
"For five years, she's been held in solitary confinement. Today, she is being handed over to our precinct. Before I assign tasks, Special Agent David Rossi from the FBI and Assistant District Attorney Sean Delmont will provide background on Dyer."
David Rossi exchanged a courteous nod with Superintendent Grey and then took the stage. His gaze swept over the audience, pausing briefly on Jack with a smile, as if to say, "I told you we'd meet again soon."
"Good morning, everyone."
"For those unfamiliar with this case, in 2015, Rosalind Dyer was captured by the FBI after torturing and killing seven people. She was sentenced to death."
"However, evidence suggests there may be more victims. Even among the seven known victims, three bodies have yet to be found."
"Today, thanks to the DA's efforts, we've reached an agreement with Dyer. She's agreed to lead the police to the hidden burial sites."
Rossi's last words carried a peculiar tone. Although his English always had a slight Italian accent, Jack could swear there was a hint of irony in his voice.
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