"Ahhhhh!"
Owen felt his soul practically leave his body as he plummeted through the air. He had gone skydiving before, but this was entirely different. At least with skydiving, there was a parachute giving him a sense of control. But now? All he had was a fire hose tied to his waist—a flimsy excuse for a lifeline. Sure, he loved extreme sports, but only when there were safety measures in place.
At the moment, there was no thrill, no excitement—just pure terror.
And, as fate would have it, that maddening slow-motion effect kicked in. His senses sharpened unnaturally as adrenaline surged through his body. Now it decides to work? he thought bitterly, returning to a more "normal" perception of time.
A jarring force suddenly yanked him mid-fall. His body jerked violently as the hose went taut, and a loud crack echoed from his waist. For a brief, horrifying moment, Owen feared he might have broken his back. He had read stories of people getting paralyzed from bungee accidents, and the thought chilled him. He cautiously twisted his torso and, to his immense relief, found he could still move.
"I'm alive! Hahaha, I'm alive!" he laughed deliriously, savoring his survival.
But his celebration was short-lived. Above him, the burning wreckage of the helicopter groaned ominously. Half of its frame was precariously hanging off the rooftop, swaying in the night breeze.
Owen's heart sank. Great. One disaster after another. He quickly scanned the area around him. There was no ledge, no handhold—just the smooth surface of glass walls.
"Come on, think!" he muttered, then began hammering his fists against the glass in front of him. However, he was suspended in mid-air, unable to generate enough force. To make matters worse, he had to be careful not to tug too hard on the fire hose that was keeping him from plummeting to his death.
The glass remained intact despite his efforts. Owen cursed under his breath, remembering that most modern skyscrapers used reinforced, tempered glass. "A gun would really come in handy right about now..."
Overhead, the helicopter made another agonizing creak. Time was running out. With no other options, Owen decided to take a more reckless approach. He gripped the hose tightly, pushed off from the glass with his legs, and began swinging back and forth like a human wrecking ball.
"Come on! Break!"
His boots slammed against the glass repeatedly. The structure groaned but held firm. Owen's frustration mounted as the helicopter above him teetered dangerously.
Suddenly, there was a series of faint pops. Cracks began spiderwebbing out from a bullet hole in the glass. Owen blinked in surprise. More pops followed, and new cracks formed. He twisted his head around and spotted a sniper lying prone on the rooftop of the opposite building. The sniper waved at him casually.
"Bless you, whoever you are," Owen muttered. He refocused on the task at hand and swung himself one more time, putting every ounce of strength into the maneuver.
Now!
With a resounding crash, the glass shattered just as the helicopter wreckage finally broke loose above. Owen tumbled through the opening, landing hard on the floor inside the building.
But it wasn't over yet. The fire hose, still tied around his waist, could pull him back out at any moment. He scrambled to untie it, frantically yanking at the knots.
"Come on! Come on!"
Time slowed again as he struggled with the hose. His hands worked with desperate precision, and just as he managed to free himself, the hose snapped taut and whipped out through the broken window with a loud whip-crack.
Owen lay on the ground, gasping for air, his body trembling from the rush of adrenaline. Sweat drenched his clothes, and his heart pounded in his chest. Despite the lingering fear, a strange, giddy euphoria bubbled up inside him. He started laughing—softly at first, then louder and louder. He had survived. Against all odds, he had survived.
"Hahahaha! I'm alive, you sons of bitches!"
His laughter was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Owen froze, glancing toward the doorway. His instincts screamed that danger was coming.
On the opposite rooftop, sniper Bob Lee peered through his rifle's scope. He saw Owen turn toward him and shout something while pointing at the doorway. Although he couldn't hear the words, he understood the message.
Bob shifted his aim, adjusting the scope toward the door. Moments later, armed hostiles began streaming into the room—one, two, three...
With each count, a hostile collapsed to the ground. Bob's shots were precise, punching through the enemies' body armor like paper. One by one, they fell, their lifeless forms sprawled across the floor in front of Owen.
"Thank you!" Owen gasped, lying exhausted among the bodies. He doubted the sniper could hear him, but he mouthed the words anyway, deeply grateful for the timely rescue.
The sniper's voice crackled over Owen's radio: "Officer, I don't know if you're McClane or Owen, but my team has spotted more hostiles heading your way. I suggest you leave—now."
Owen grabbed the radio eagerly. "Thank you! I'm Owen. Thanks for the heads-up. I'll get moving right away."
He quickly scavenged weapons and ammunition from the fallen enemies before giving one last wave toward the sniper's position. Then, he dashed out of the room.
Bob watched through his scope as Owen disappeared through the door. The sniper's typically stoic expression softened into a faint smile.
Meanwhile, across the city, a brave cameraman had captured every second of the rooftop battle, including Owen's dramatic escape. The footage was now being broadcast live to millions of viewers across the nation.
In the hijacked skyscraper's control room, Hans Gruber watched the news footage in silence. Although he had spoken with Owen and McClane over the radio multiple times, this was the first time he had seen their faces.
Despite the interference caused by the so-called "Dynamic Duo," Hans remained composed. The assault on the rooftop had gone mostly according to plan. While there had been some setbacks, like the destruction of a helicopter, the overall objective had been achieved.
Simultaneously, another SWAT team had attempted a ground assault on the building, only to fall victim to ambushes and pre-placed explosives. The result was a catastrophic failure for the police.
Hans allowed himself a cold smile. Everything was going according to plan. The police had underestimated him. They wouldn't make that mistake again.
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