Counterterrorism in America

After a brief pause, Owen and McClane hid in a corner of the storage area. Dust covered the ground, indicating that this part of the building was seldom used. However, the tracks left by the luggage cart were clearly visible, stretching forward and disappearing at a flight of stairs.

The cart sat abandoned near the base of the stairs, its boxes nowhere in sight. The door at the top of the staircase stood wide open, and beyond it lay the rooftop.

McClane signaled to Owen, who followed closely. Both men crept up the stairs and positioned themselves on either side of the doorframe, cautiously peeking out.

On the rooftop, two hostiles were struggling to lower a long, heavy-looking box. One of the men lost his grip, and the box fell with a loud thud onto the ground.

Startled, the other hostile immediately kicked his partner in frustration. The victim of the assault didn't retaliate, instead curling up and silently taking the punishment. After a few more kicks, the aggressor finally stopped and cautiously opened the box to inspect the contents.

Owen's jaw dropped when he caught a glimpse of what was inside. No wonder the man had been so enraged. Inside the green container, unmistakably, was a missile launcher.

"Shit! They have anti-aircraft missiles! We're screwed. I've got to warn them!" Owen scrambled to activate his radio. "Javier! Javier! Can you hear me? Answer!"

As Owen struggled to get through, the sound of helicopter blades grew louder. Within seconds, two helicopters appeared, flying in formation from behind a neighboring building. Powerful spotlights illuminated the area, and Owen could clearly see heavily armed SWAT officers onboard.

"I said they have anti-aircraft missiles! Tell those choppers to get the hell out of here!" Owen's desperate voice echoed through the radio. The static-filled response indicated Javier had connected, but the deafening noise hindered communication. It was unclear if the warning had been heard, and Owen feared it was already too late.

On the rooftop, the two hostiles lifted the launcher to their shoulders and began targeting the helicopters.

"We can't let them fire!" McClane yelled, charging forward without hesitation.

Owen didn't hesitate either, sprinting after McClane. They each tackled one of the missile operators, trying to disrupt the launch.

McClane managed to reach his target but a split-second too late. The missile had already been launched. However, McClane's attack had thrown off the aim, causing the missile to veer off course.

For a moment, McClane thought they were safe, only to see the missile correct its trajectory mid-flight. It arced back toward the helicopter and struck its belly, turning it into a fiery explosion.

"Damn it! I forgot these things have heat-seeking guidance..." McClane muttered as flaming debris rained down around him.

On the other side of the roof, Owen crashed into his target just in time, pinning the hostile and the launcher beneath him. Thankfully, the missile hadn't launched.

Owen didn't waste time celebrating. He rained two hard punches on the hostile's face, disorienting him and knocking his hand off the trigger. Just as Owen reached for the launcher, another hostile burst through the rooftop door, firing a spray of bullets in his direction.

Owen dove for cover as a hail of gunfire trailed him. He sprinted toward a nearby ventilation duct, ducking behind it just in time to avoid being hit.

Panting and bruised, Owen peeked around the corner. The shooting had stopped momentarily. He scanned the rooftop and saw the remaining helicopter hovering above. SWAT officers were preparing to rappel down on ropes from either side.

Nearby, McClane had somehow acquired a submachine gun and was exchanging fire with the hostile who had ambushed Owen.

Owen was debating how to help when he noticed the hostile he had tackled earlier was staggering to his feet—still holding the missile launcher.

"Not on my watch!" Owen muttered, sprinting out from behind cover. In a flash, he closed the distance and delivered a powerful kick to the man's face. The hostile screamed in pain as he fell backward, dropping the launcher.

Unfortunately, the missile fired just before the launcher hit the ground. The blast knocked the hostile several meters away, his body tumbling across the rooftop. He didn't get up again.

Everyone froze, their eyes following the missile's trail. It streaked across the sky, narrowly missing the helicopter. However, the missile's guidance system kicked in, steering it back around.

"Fuck!" someone yelled from the helicopter as the missile struck the tail rotor.

The helicopter spun wildly out of control, its damaged rotor unable to stabilize it. Flames and smoke billowed from the rear as it hurtled toward Owen's position.

"Oh, come on! Why is it always me?" Owen cursed, watching in horror as the blazing wreckage closed in on him. He turned and sprinted toward the edge of the rooftop, but there was nowhere to go. With only a few meters left, he realized he had no choice.

In a desperate bid to survive, Owen's eyes landed on a fire hose reel mounted nearby. Without thinking, he smashed the glass case, yanked out the hose, and began wrapping it around his waist.

The helicopter crashed with a deafening explosion, sending debris flying in all directions. The wreckage skidded across the rooftop, tearing through everything in its path as it barreled straight toward Owen.

"WHAT THE FUCK! AAAAAHHHH!" Owen screamed, leaping off the building just as the wreckage reached him.

For a moment, there was nothing. No thoughts, no sensations—just a terrifying emptiness as gravity took hold.

Owen's mind raced as he plummeted. He had done plenty of bungee jumping in the past, even dreaming of breaking a record by jumping at every major site in the country. But now, none of that mattered. This was the ultimate jump—no harness, no safety measures. Pure adrenaline and life-or-death stakes.

And it wasn't over yet.

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