The officer in the co-driver's seat had long gripped the AR-15 assault rifle in his hands, his finger resting on the trigger guard, his eyes filled with a thirst for battle.
In his heart, he calculated that as soon as the car door opened, he would charge out, ready to fight three hundred rounds with those who dared to ambush the Governor of the United States, eager to make his mark.
This was a nationwide event under much attention; showing a little bravery and decisiveness here would surely earn wide acclaim afterward—promotion, salary raise, and marrying a 'white, rich, and beautiful' spouse would no longer be a dream.
However, before the car door could be pushed open, the co-driver's gaze froze.
A tall figure in a black trench coat and a pantyhose mask was walking from behind the heavy truck, cradling an M2 heavy machine gun.
The dark muzzle of the gun seemed like the eyes of death, staring coldly at them.
