Owen walked at a steady pace, showing no signs of alarm. In his pocket was a pack of cigarettes, and within it, the hidden spy camera that his instructor, Morrie, had gifted him before he left the training center. However, using it now wasn't ideal; walking around at night with dark glasses would only draw attention.
Fortunately, Morrie had taught him other tricks. The streets around him were lined with shops and cars, their windows and mirrors providing ample opportunities for covert observation. Through reflections, Owen could clearly see the two men tailing him—a tall and a short Latino—who had exited the Ford and were now following him into Dobos Shopping Center.
The mall was crowded, as many people had come to shop or relax after work. A promotional event was taking place in the main atrium, drawing a large crowd. Taking advantage of the activity, Owen casually rode the escalator up to the second floor. He needed a quieter spot to corner these men and extract information.
On the second floor was a sprawling IKEA showroom. With its labyrinth of furniture displays and sparse foot traffic, it was the perfect place for Owen to confront his pursuers. He slowly made his way through the exhibit area, careful not to draw attention.
The two Latinos followed closely behind, keeping a cautious distance. The tall man scanned the surroundings while the shorter one adjusted something under his jacket. They knew Owen was aware of them and was likely lying in wait.
Suddenly, a few startled screams echoed from within the furniture section. Several customers and store employees hurriedly fled the area.
Owen had spotted the civilians earlier and flashed his gun to scare them off, hoping to avoid accidental harm when the inevitable fight broke out. Unfortunately, they panicked and ran, likely alerting security or the police.
The two men exchanged glances at the commotion. The shorter man drew a compact submachine gun from his coat, while the tall one attached a suppressor to his pistol. They advanced cautiously into the display area, weaving between furniture sets and decorative walls.
The showroom's layout was complex, with couches, wardrobes, and tables creating numerous blind spots. The men split up, the tall one taking the left side while the short one moved to the right. Their senses were on high alert.
Out of the corner of his eye, the short man noticed movement near a mirror and instinctively opened fire. The mirror shattered with a loud crash, shards scattering across the floor.
"You idiot!" the tall man hissed, irritated. The short man shrugged sheepishly, clearly embarrassed. Just as he was about to joke it off, a wardrobe door behind him silently swung open, and the barrel of a Glock pressed against the back of his head.
"Don't move!" Owen's voice was cold and commanding. "Drop your weapon. Slowly."
The two Latinos froze. The short man hesitated but eventually released his grip on the submachine gun, letting it fall to the floor. The tall man followed suit, tossing his pistol aside.
"Who sent you? Why are you trying to kill me?" Owen demanded, kicking their weapons away.
Before either man could answer, a voice from behind barked, "LAPD! Drop your weapon!"
Owen cursed under his breath and froze. The voice belonged to two police officers, likely alerted by the fleeing civilians.
"I'm CTU agent Steven Owen," he quickly explained, raising his hands. "I used to be with the West Hollywood Major Crimes Unit. I can show you my ID…"
Owen carefully turned around, keeping his movements slow and non-threatening. Holding his Glock between two fingers, he reached for his credentials. He recognized one of the officers and hoped they would recognize him in return.
"Owen? Damn, I heard you—"
The officer's words were cut short by a burst of gunfire.
"Rat-tat-tat-tat!"
An assault rifle tore through the air, striking both officers before they could react. Owen ducked behind a display as the two men fell to the ground. Standing behind them was a man with curly hair, wielding a modified AK-47. Smoke rose from the weapon's barrel as he grinned wickedly, stepping closer to the wounded officers.
The gunman calmly fired a few more shots to finish off one of the officers, then turned his attention back to the furniture section.
Owen, now hidden behind a bookshelf, repositioned himself quietly. The tall and short Latinos had scrambled to recover their weapons and taken cover behind a wardrobe.
"Kill him. No witnesses," the curly-haired man ordered coldly.
The shorter man muttered a curse under his breath as he limped toward the displays, his weapon ready. Meanwhile, the tall man circled around cautiously, unaware that Owen was tracking his every move.
Owen heard faint footsteps approaching from his left. He pressed his back against a TV stand and waited. As soon as a hand holding a gun appeared, he seized it, twisting it upward. Two shots rang out, striking the ceiling.
Owen retaliated with two precise shots to the man's legs. The short man screamed in agony, collapsing to the floor. His submachine gun clattered away as Owen stomped on his hand, preventing him from grabbing it again.
From the corner of his eye, Owen spotted the tall man entering his field of vision. Without hesitation, he fired twice, hitting the man in the chest. A third shot to the head ended him instantly.
"Who sent you?" Owen demanded, pointing his Glock at the injured man on the ground.
The shorter man writhed in pain, clutching his legs. He offered no coherent response, only agonized wails.
Frustrated, Owen silenced him with a final shot to the hand, ensuring he was no longer a threat.
Suddenly, the lights dimmed as the curly-haired gunman returned. A volley of bullets tore through the furniture around Owen, forcing him to retreat. Shards of wood and glass flew in all directions as the assailant fired indiscriminately.
This guy is ruthless, Owen thought. He doesn't care about collateral damage.
Owen ducked behind a corner and observed the weapon. The AK-47 had been heavily modified—its stock removed and the barrel shortened. It was compact enough to conceal easily, explaining how the gunman had smuggled it inside the mall.
"Of course he'd have something like that," Owen muttered grimly.
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