Clang, clang.
Nick Fury was still dazed from the impact when two more police cars rammed him from front and back. Great—he had been turned into a sandwich, pinned in place and unable to move.
Then a black armored vehicle marked with SWAT lettering drove over. More than a dozen armed men in black combat uniforms got out, joining the uniformed police already there. They all raised their rifles and unleashed a barrage at Nick Fury.
But this was, after all, the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s personal vehicle. Its quality was exceptional. It took at least several hundred rounds at close range, yet only white marks appeared on the body. The windows were covered in cracks, but they still held.
Nick Fury swayed inside the car as he regained his senses. The previous vehicle had slammed directly into the driver's side. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, his face was swollen, and one arm was fractured. He had just injected himself with anesthetic to suppress the pain, then hurriedly moved to the other side.
"The Capitol Police did not deploy officers in this area..."
The onboard computer informed Nick Fury that all the police outside were impostors. No shit, Nick Fury thought. They started beating me without even a warning. Is that how cops act? Well... considering his skin color, it was actually possible. But this was Washington, D.C., right under the nation's nose—the capital itself. Even if they had those thoughts, they could not be this blatant about it!
Besides, they were carrying either submachine guns or automatic rifles. That was not the kind of firepower police were supposed to have.
When the fake SWAT officers outside saw that gunfire was useless, they immediately moved on to their backup plan. Four men carried a thick, black mechanical breaching