"I thought..." Jane glanced at Jack and then at the Barrett .50 cal rifle still firing from behind them.
"That's Hannah," Jack explained casually, tapping his earpiece. "Clay, how's the situation at the rear?"
The scene shifted to the back of the three-story building, where DEA Agent Galeson stood in stunned silence. His gaze lingered on Clay, who carried a Noveske N4 assault rifle with an MDX508 slung across his back, looking every bit like a walking arsenal.
Galeson instinctively tightened his grip on his Glock 17 and adjusted his "thin" police-issue bulletproof vest. He still hadn't fully processed what he was witnessing.
When he had first seen the FBI team suited up in full Interceptor tactical gear—complete with groin protectors and neck guards—he had sensed things were going south. Once the agents retrieved their weapons from the GMC's trunk, fully kitting themselves out, he'd regretted coming along.
His regret turned to near panic when the sweet-smiling Texas girl, Hannah, calmly pulled a Barrett M82A1 from a large gun case. At that point, Galeson had nearly cried.
"All good," Clay reported to Jack over the radio. "They've only got one exit back here. They're not going anywhere." He shot a sharp look at Galeson. "Watch the side entrance. Keep civilians away."
"Got it. Understood," Galeson stammered, swallowing nervously before crouching behind a trash bin.
The rear of the building was a chaotic mess—makeshift extensions cluttered the area, surrounded by abandoned appliances and furniture ranging from rusting refrigerators to broken-down sofas. Two Marshals, pinned down near their SUV, had managed to disable two parked vehicles in the lot, including the blue Honda Fit suspected to belong to Maldonado.
The cartel gunmen, trapped inside the building, could do little more than fire wildly from cover. Venturing outside for a direct confrontation would mean certain death against the disciplined ex-military Marshals.
Compared to the ambush they'd faced in Charlotte, this time the Marshals were better equipped and more organized. Despite being outgunned, they were holding their own.
"Any injuries?" Jack crouched beside Marshal Samuels and handed him his white cowboy hat, which had been thrown in frustration moments earlier.
"Some scrapes, nothing serious. But Philly PD's taken a beating," Samuels said, his expression grim. The Marshals didn't have an official uniform, but old-school types like him often wore cowboy hats as a nod to their frontier heritage.
"Good thing you guys showed up," Samuels added, his tone acknowledging their debt.
The gunfire outside had begun to die down, save for the occasional thunderous blast from Hannah's Barrett. Her suppressive fire had turned the once-cocky cartel shooters into whimpering wrecks.
"Aren't you going to wait for SWAT and their armored vehicles?" Samuels asked as he watched Jack pull smoke grenades from his tactical vest.
Jack's response was sharp and to the point. "Can you guarantee whose reinforcements will get here first—ours or theirs?"
"Fair enough. But do you have a plan?"
Samuels knew better than to rely on the slow-moving local police, who were struggling just to set up roadblocks. The chaotic conditions in Philadelphia's west and north neighborhoods had left law enforcement stretched thin. Decades of deindustrialization and population flight had decimated the city's infrastructure and safety net. Entire communities had been reduced to slums filled with crime, poverty, and abandoned buildings.
Though FBI SWAT units were en route, the cartel's allies had not been idle. The team encountered staged accidents, sabotaged vehicles, and other roadblocks meant to delay reinforcements.
Jack wasn't the type to sit back and wait. With Hannah providing overwatch, now was their best chance to press the advantage.
"Just follow our lead," Jack said, tossing several smoke grenades toward the building's windows.
"Pshhh... pshhh..."
Thick smoke began billowing up the walls. Before visibility was completely obscured, Hannah fired two precise shots, blasting the front door off its hinges.
Gunfire erupted from within. The cartel gunmen, shouting orders in Spanish, blindly fired through the smoke, hoping to hold off their attackers.
What they didn't realize was that Jack's team had already split into two groups. Using the smoke as cover, they moved into the neighboring yards on either side of the house, slipping into the blind spots.
Jack's team included JJ, Samuels, and another Marshal. The second group, led by Aubrey and Jubal, flanked the house from the other side.
Jack kicked down a flimsy gate of rusted wire and tin sheets. Without hesitation, he lobbed a flashbang grenade through a ground-floor window.
BOOM!
A deafening blast echoed inside, accompanied by blinding light. Jack's Noveske N4 was the first thing to breach the window, sending a spray of suppressive fire into the room. By the time JJ entered and covered the interior, the room was eerily silent.
Samuels and his partner kept their M4A1 rifles aimed upward, wary of any gunmen on the second floor. From her new vantage point, Hannah resumed firing, ensuring that no one dared show their face near the windows.
Another flashbang exploded near the half-destroyed front door, stunning anyone still inside.
Simultaneously, Aubrey and Jubal's group executed a similar maneuver from their side of the building, clearing their assigned rooms before converging near the entrance. The two groups now stood face-to-face.
"Move in!" Jack ordered. He slung his empty N4 over his back and drew his MDX508 short-barreled rifle from his side.
Like a battering ram, Jack charged through the shattered doorway. A cartel gunman hiding behind the staircase barely had time to react before Jack fired three rounds in quick succession.
Two shots hit the man's chest, and the third pierced his skull, spraying brain matter across the wall behind him.
Jack advanced further inside, clearing the path for the others to follow.
(End of Chapter)
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