biu~biu~biu~

I'm a bona fide... Police Officer II with the Gotham Police Department, not a superhero. Why wouldn't I call for backup when trouble hits? Am I supposed to handle it all myself?

He had just shut the door when shrieks like tearing fabric and dull thuds against sheet metal erupted from every direction, making the car ring with impacts. But far more bullets poured into the Crown Victoria convoy behind them.

"Fuck! We're in trouble!"

The Chevrolet had been hit by the Suburban while crossing the intersection. The impact had carried it past the junction, leaving it angled against the foot of a building on the left. The Suburban sat in the middle of the road, blocking both the Crown Victorias' path and their view of one another.

"Can the car still run?"

He glanced back at Wilson, only to find his partner fumbling painfully to undo his seat belt, his teeth clenched to keep himself from groaning.

"Holy shit!" Li Jie jumped. "You got shot?" He reached to check Wilson's carotid pulse, but Wilson shook his head and grunted twice, apparently trying to say something.

A burst of bullets struck the window, spreading cracks across it. Li Jie had no time for Wilson. While the shooters reloaded, he abruptly kicked the door open, raised his AR-15, and fired several short bursts at the upper floor of the building to the east. Masonry flew through the corridor, and one ambusher took a bullet through the neck and toppled down, frightening the other gunmen into cover.

He ducked back into the car and watched the wounded gunman hit the street. The semiautomatic rifle's gentle recoil had somehow given him the satisfying thrill of shooting wild ducks. He glanced back. Wilson was still struggling to prop himself up.

"Think you can still be saved? Any last words or final wishes? If I'm still alive in a bit, I'll try to take care of them for you."

"Fuck you. I've just broken my ribs, I'm not dying," Wilson cried, grimacing. "My arm... Aaaaah..."

Li Jie shoved him flat against the seat, making him scream in pain. Almost simultaneously, a dull boom rang out. A radiating web of cracks the size of a large soup bowl blossomed across the windshield, which had already been damaged in the collision. A deformed bullet lodged in its polyester layer.

"FUCK, I hadn't told you my arm was dislocated yet." Wilson's face was drenched in sweat as he struggled to stifle his cries. "The radio's broken. Get my phone out for me."

Li Jie pulled out his own phone and tossed it over, holding Wilson down by the shoulder. "Keep your head down. There's a guy with a bolt-action rifle on your side. Don't worry, though. That shot was aimed at me. Besides, an experienced sniper wouldn't try to force an intermediate rifle round through an undamaged section of bulletproof glass at an angle of incidence below twenty degrees."

"Huh?" At the word "sniper," Wilson hurriedly wriggled farther down beneath the seat. "Can you say that in words I understand?"

But Li Jie had already jumped out again. Using the cold car body as cover, he fired repeated bursts toward the east. The wind was bitter, but the accuracy of the AR-15 paired with a red-dot sight made shooting a pleasure. Meanwhile, the Crown Victoria convoy had recovered from its initial panic. Despite losing several men, they pulled close to the eastern building, got out, and began returning fire. Their MP5s poured out bullets, instantly forcing the men upstairs to keep their heads down.

"That's all you've got?"

He emptied a magazine and jumped back into the car. Wilson dropped the phone and picked up the Remington 1100 with his right hand.

"I've notified Bob. The bastard was being vague about everything. How about... I draw their fire, and you take out the sniper?"

"Forget it. Using a shotgun in your condition would be suicide. The recoil would smash your chest to pieces." Li Jie changed his rifle's magazine and glanced at the panting Wilson. "What I meant earlier was that the guy's a rookie. He should've aimed at the center of the damaged glass. I'll deal with him."

Both sides spraying away with submachine guns probably wouldn't break the stalemate. Unless they could close the distance or calm down and fire controlled bursts, they would just take turns ducking and popping up to spray wildly, bowing back and forth like they were exchanging New Year's greetings.

The cracks around the embedded bullet gave him a rough idea of the sniper's direction. He got out and crept toward the rear of the car, then had Wilson open the driver's door, using the intact side window to create another angled observation point.

Bang! Another shot rang out, and a white web of cracks exploded across the side window in front of him. But in that split second, he clearly saw a flash of flame on a third-floor balcony diagonally across the street.

Following the muzzle flash, he spotted a dim figure lying beside a flowerpot. The fellow's aim wasn't actually bad, but he had the usual beginner's problem: always wanting to blow the target's head off with one shot. He was probably a self-taught enthusiast from some gang.

But Li Jie had no time to assess his skill. The Roman's convoy was still trapped in the ambush. If the witness died, he would be in deep shit too.

"Fuck it. Consider this the deluxe treatment!"

Li Jie steeled himself and activated his skill, [Chinese-Style Iai].

There were no flashy effects. The balcony where the sniper was hiding suddenly collapsed without warning, sending him tumbling headfirst before he could react.

A fall from the third floor wasn't necessarily fatal, but by a terrible stroke of luck, his neck struck the iron railing of the second-floor balcony. After a series of sickening impacts and cracking sounds, the sniper finally lay motionless at ground level, a dark red pool rapidly spreading beneath him.

"Uh..." Even Li Jie sucked in a cold breath at the sight. "Man... that's fucking brutal."

He shook his head and tried to call Cobblepot. But the red indicator light showing that the walkie-talkie was working had gone dark. He tapped it twice, saw little hope of fixing it, and returned to the car to toss it to Wilson.

"I'm going to get the witness out. Can you manage on your own?"

"No problem, brother. I'm a battle-hardened veteran." Wilson managed a strained smile. "Don't worry about me. Just give me the shotgun..."

"Dream on. The only thing you can use is your Glock 17." After a moment's thought, Li Jie slung the Remington over his shoulder too. "I don't want you surviving a bullet to the head only to die of your own stupidity. Get into a stairwell and hide if you have the chance." He glanced at Wilson. "Hope we both live to see each other again."

Holding his rifle, he crouched beside the Suburban and peered around its mangled front end. The Roman's men had better equipment, but the enemies in the western building held the high ground, while those in the eastern building had already come down to the ground floor and begun charging at close range.

No one seemed to have noticed him. He steadied his breathing and actually had time to take careful aim. Holding the rifle firm, he placed the red dot over the gunmen upstairs to the west, who were happily spraying away with an Uzi and an M10, and pulled the trigger.

After several short bursts, the two gunmen stiffened mid-fire, then crumpled as though their bones had been pulled out. The others, unaware of what had happened, ducked behind the wall. The suppressing fire from above instantly fell silent.

Three of the Roman's gunmen were already down. Taking advantage of the weakened fire from the western building, the survivors rushed into the eastern stairwell. With better equipment and desperate ferocity, they exchanged brutal fire at close quarters with the ambushers who had descended to the ground floor. They lost another man, but successfully killed four or five of the enemy.

Falcone's men had seized the small eastern building, negating the western shooters' high-ground advantage. Victory was only a matter of time. Working with the exchanges of fire overhead, Li Jie moved from cover to cover along the street, firing as he went, and slipped into the western building. Gunfire rattled intermittently overhead like an electric drill. He deliberately softened his footsteps and crept up to the second floor, then suddenly leaned out from the stairwell. Three gunmen were felled like trees by 5.56 mm rounds before they could even turn around.

"That's it?"

Li Jie waved toward the small building to the east, only for a burst of bullets to suddenly come flying from that direction. Then a scream rang out from the stairs between the third and second floors, and a man came tumbling down with a clatter.

Holy shit! Nice shooting!

He raised his rifle and fired a finishing shot, then gave the men across the street a thumbs-up.

Soon, the gunfire died away. Li Jie collected himself, watching the white mist of his breath rise in front of him. He stood, ran downstairs, and approached the Crown Victoria convoy. Fortunately, all three cars had been armored. Dense patches of bullet marks covered them, and webs of cracks crisscrossed their windows, but only a few spots had been penetrated. Li Jie pulled open the first car. No one was inside. He opened the second car's door, and a stench of blood, gunpowder, and urine hit him. The window was open a crack. The driver lay over the steering wheel, gun in hand, with a hole in his skull. Another man was curled beneath the rear seat, clutching his head, shaking and sobbing.

"What the fuck!" He grabbed the man and dragged him out. It was that poor bastard Hargrove. When he looked inside again, there was no one else.

A chill colder than the December air shot from the soles of Li Jie's feet to the crown of his head, leaving his legs weak. He seized Hargrove by the collar and roared, "Where's Cuevas? Where's Cobblepot?"

Before Hargrove could answer, he rushed over like a madman and yanked open the third car's door. It was empty too.

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Desperate fury engulfed him. He didn't know what had happened, but his situation was looking bad... no, catastrophically bad. He returned to the second car and dragged Hargrove into the stairwell like a dead dog. Seeing three of Falcone's men hurrying down from upstairs, he immediately leveled his rifle at them.

"Where are Cobblepot and the witness?"

The three men instinctively raised their hands, exchanged looks, then all shook their heads frantically.

"I don't know."

"Mr. Cobblepot... should be in the car behind us."

"They were in the middle car."

The four men stared at one another for several seconds. Only heavy breathing and the mournful whistle of cold wind filled the stairwell. Li Jie lowered his gun and pointed at the man in front. "You. What's your name?"

"C-Coolidge."

"Are you all men of... Mr. Falcone?"

"That's right." Coolidge calmed down a little. "We work under Mr. Victor Zsasz."

Li Jie nodded. The chill had made his thoughts exceptionally clear. "Okay, Coolidge. Go check the casualties outside. Forget the enemy. Just see who on our side is missing, with neither a living person nor a body accounted for. Go!"

Coolidge hesitated. Perhaps the words "our side" had eased some of his resistance, because he took his gun and left the stairwell. Just then, a faint, tearful voice came from beside them. "They... they got... got out... on the way."

They all looked down sharply. It was Hargrove, who had been dumped on the stairs. Finding several pairs of eyes fixed on him, he shuddered in fright and swallowed the rest of his words.

Li Jie sat him upright on the stairs, crouched, and asked, "Tell me. When and where did they get out?"

"I... I don't know exactly when," Hargrove said, his voice trembling violently. "It... it was on the shopping street."

"The shopping street?" Li Jie whipped his head toward the remaining gunmen. "They got out, and none of you knew?"

"Only Mr. Cobblepot and his bodyguard Gabe are missing. Everyone else is dead." Coolidge hurried back just then. "I was in the second car. Those two were in the first. Mr. Cobblepot's car was at the rear initially, but after we passed the shopping district, it pulled up into second position."

"What about your men in that car?"

"The driver and bodyguard in that car were elite men provided by Mr. Cobblepot himself." Coolidge shook his head. "The rest of us were sent by Mr. Victor."

He ran?

The Penguin couldn't possibly go to war with both Fish Mooney and the Roman at once. Besides, the witness meant nothing to him personally. So the likeliest explanation was that he had abandoned the convoy as bait and taken the witness to the Roman to claim the credit and a reward.

Motherfucker!

Just as Li Jie was about to stamp his feet and start cursing, the heavy roar of an engine drifted from far down the street outside. He dashed out of the stairwell for a look and nearly had his soul scared out of him. Sprinting back, he screamed at the top of his lungs, "PKM! Take cover!"