Chapter 1171: FBI Joins the Battle (Part One)

"Don’t grab the guns yet! Just the body armor!"

Jack’s first order wasn’t about stray bullets—even though the Suburban they’d borrowed from the local FBI office wasn’t bulletproof. His real concern was avoiding friendly fire.

The protest march had already passed this intersection, and the police had lifted the traffic blockade, though congestion still lingered. On top of that, night had fallen completely. The Mel Street shops glowed brightly on both sides, but chaos had already broken out, and Jack didn’t dare get out with a weapon in hand to check the situation.

Just imagine—amid already-tense police nerves due to a sudden incident, a black SUV suddenly rolls up and out jump three fully armed men. What would be the cops’ first reaction?

This wasn’t like that previous shootout in Charlotte between the ATF task force and a heavily armed fugitive (Chapter 777). While both incidents were sudden, in Charlotte they had at least been notified in advance, and moved in after coordinating with local police. That one had started as an arrest and only turned into an ambush when things went south.

And so, when JJ contacted the Charlotte PD back then, she quickly got firsthand info, reported their presence, and secured permission to assist.

This time, though, things were far more urgent. They were smack in the middle of the scene. And judging by the increasing intensity of the gunfire, whatever was going down was heading toward them.

At that moment, Jack knew almost nothing—only that the shooter was likely targeting the nearby protest march. Beyond that, they were in the dark.

The chaos was clearly spreading. Ahead of them, one of the “smart ones” had already ditched his car and was running in the opposite direction of the gunfire.

But Jack and Aubrey stayed put, carefully slipping into their body armor and watching the street, waiting for any updates from JJ, who was on the phone coordinating with HQ.

Predictably, the local FBI office was even more clueless than the three of them. Less than three minutes had passed since the first shots were fired.

Though the gunfire briefly paused, the streets remained in disarray. People's reactions varied.

Some, like the guy up ahead, abandoned their vehicles and fled. Others stared at nearby shop windows, eyes gleaming with opportunism.

Fortunately, this area had been well-staffed with police due to the protest. Most officers looked just as lost, but their training kicked in—they instinctively started trying to restore order around them.

“Hey, officer!” Aubrey spotted a heavyset older white cop and flung open the door, shouting to get his attention.

The officer, holding a police radio and sweating profusely, turned and blinked at the sight of Aubrey’s FBI-labeled vest. It took a few seconds before he registered what he was seeing.

“FBI Senior Agent Jim Aubrey. That’s my colleague in the car. Can you tell us what’s going on? Maybe we can help.”

The fat cop blinked again, and just as Aubrey was about to repeat himself, he hiked up his belt, waved to his partner, and jogged over to the Suburban.

“Oh, thank God—you’re really feds? We’ve got no idea what’s going on. The radio chatter’s a mess. All we know is that an officer’s down—right up at the intersection of Mel and Lamar, just ahead of us.”

Seeing that communication had been established, Jack stepped out of the driver’s seat and raised his badge. “Officer, we’re with the Fugitive Task Force. We’ve got gear in the trunk and may be able to assist, but we need your help notifying command.”

The cop—his face pale, forehead beaded with nervous sweat—still reacted quickly. He keyed his radio and called in his badge number.

Meanwhile, Jack opened the rear hatch. The officer and his female partner looked on in surprise as he unlocked the weapons case and tossed a Noveske N4 rifle to Aubrey.

JJ had stepped out too, still holding her phone. “Jack, the Dallas FBI office has reached DPD. They’ve informed them senior agents are on the scene.”

“Good. Let’s move out. Officer... Smith, right?” Jack glanced at the man’s nameplate. “Would you be willing to come with us?”

Despite notifying both DPD and HQ, Jack was still wary of being accidentally shot by friendlies. In the chaos, he couldn’t count on every officer monitoring radio updates. Having someone in uniform by their side could be a lifesaver.

“Uh, but they told me to...” Officer Smith, clearly rattled by the sight of the three now fully kitted agents, hesitated and looked toward the direction of renewed gunfire.

“I’ll go with you.” The quiet female partner—petite, clearly young, with a face still touched by baby fat—suddenly stepped forward.

“I volunteer to assist,” she said firmly, reaching out to shake Jack’s hand.

Jack returned the handshake, noting the name on her badge. “Thank you for your help, Officer Rocha.”

Despite her youth, she was a rare beauty—without quotation marks—and her cheeks were flushed with a mix of nerves and excitement.

Dallas’s city layout was similar to Los Angeles—or most modern American cities, really—built on a grid system.

Behind them was Dealey Plaza, site of JFK’s assassination. To the right stood a church and the memorial built to honor the slain president. On the left loomed Dallas City Hall.

Their newly formed four-person team advanced east. After passing a small garden, a complex of beige buildings appeared to their left—north of their current path.

The gunfire was now coming from just beyond those buildings, ahead of them and to the east. It was getting louder, more intense.

“Damn it, that’s El Centro College!” Officer Rocha gasped in horror as she walked beside JJ.

(This chapter is based on the real-life 2016 Dallas police shooting.)