You're a US police officer, what are you thinking about going back to the East for?

Before Lyon could glean anything else from the beautiful branch chief's ambiguous attitude, the group of reporters nearby erupted in excitement once again.

The battle over there is far more exciting than the one here.

FBI agent Hayes is clearly a master of stealing the spotlight.

While the SWAT team was still cleaning up the mess, he had already fixed his hair and stood directly in front of the largest camera, speaking eloquently and mysteriously into the lens:

"Regarding this operation... it was the result of long-term surveillance by the FBI."

"It is a typical successful case of federal and local cooperation. Although the process was somewhat tortuous, everything was under control under the overall coordination of the federal government."

"As for the details, I cannot reveal too much in order to protect national security, but you only need to know that the federal government has been watching the shadows."

A typical riddle teller.

He could rattle off a set of official jargon and platitudes without batting an eye, his words implying:

The Seattle police are just our errand boys; the real brains are the FBI.

Can this be tolerated?

Lieutenant Hobbs, already furious, threw his helmet to the ground upon hearing this and strode into the frame.

"You're talking nonsense!"

Hobbs pointed at Hayes's nose, his voice so loud that all the reporters present could hear him.

"If it weren't for my team laying tire deflation devices on the highway in the rain, and if it weren't for my brothers taking the brunt of the gunfire, those bastards would have already run off to Canada!"

"Is your coordinator just standing by the command vehicle watching? These are my men! The Seattle police are bleeding! They're risking their lives!"

"You idiot, your only contribution so far is standing here trying to steal the spotlight!"

Hayes' face had just turned black, and now it turned green. He clearly hadn't expected this barbarian to be so disrespectful in front of the live broadcast camera, and he was about to retort.

The two men were face to face, spitting as they spoke, and it looked like a full-blown fight was about to break out.

"Oh oh oh oh oh!"

The surrounding reporters were overjoyed, their camera shutters clicking incessantly—this was big news!

"Federal agents and SWAT commanders fight in the rain," this is much more exciting than a police shootout.

Just as Lyon was watching this grand spectacle with great interest, and even considered taking out some sunflower seeds from his pocket...

A long, slender hand suddenly and forcefully grabbed his arm.

"Come with me, Vance."

Sterling said something in a low voice, then led Lyon directly into the center of the battle that was about to break out.

"Dear friends in the media!"

Sterling's voice, though gentle, was incredibly penetrating, instantly drawing everyone's attention away from the two arguing men.

Instead of listening to this pointless argument, let's look at the real heroes.

Sterling, facing the camera, his face filled with pride and emotion, gently pushed Leon forward another half step.

"Seattle West Precinct, Second Sergeant, Leon Vance."

"Just now, after learning that his brother had been ambushed and was in critical condition, he did not hesitate to drive his police car in the pouring rain to chase after three desperate criminals armed with automatic weapons, and intercepted the suspects at the last minute, even in such terrible rainy weather."

"What is the Seattle spirit? This is it!"

"For our brothers, for justice, we'll pay any price! Even if it means facing the threat of death. That's the backbone of our West District Police Station!"

Her ability to avoid the important issues and focus on the trivial ones is simply superb.

It makes no mention of Lyon's series of violations that would have led to his license being revoked a hundred times, nor does it mention that he killed two suspects and left another half-dead, or that he was a troublemaker who had just been reinstated.

At this moment, in Sterling's words, Lyon is a tragic hero who dares to charge into hell for the sake of camaraderie, a perfect spokesperson for the police.

Leon was blinded by the flash of the camera. Did he know this woman well?

We've barely met before, have we? Why is she acting like she watched me grow up?

"Aren't you afraid of what kind of tabloid news will be written about you by linking arms with me like this tomorrow?"

But when he saw the glint in Sterling's bright blue eyes, he instantly realized what was going on.

This is like they're claiming territory.

In front of the FBI, SWAT, and all the Seattle media, a bright red stamp was placed on his forehead, declaring him as Victoria Sterling's man.

From now on, anyone who wants to touch him or poach him will naturally have to ask her, the branch director, for permission first.

And if Lyon is a hero, then Director Sterling, who cultivated such a hero, must be a good leader.

This woman...

Lyon clicked his tongue inwardly, but instead of pulling away from Sterling's hand, he straightened his back and gave the camera a resolute yet slightly tired "tough guy" smile.

Since there's nothing else to do right now, let's just play our roles well. After all, we might as well capitalize on this wave of popularity.

"Actually, I wasn't thinking about anything at the time."

"All I remember is that old guy lying in a pool of blood still owes me a steak."

"For the sake of this meal, I can't let him die without knowing why, and I can't let those bastards get away."

"As for my driving skills... I was just in a hurry."

Chief Sterling was clearly satisfied with the answer.

She gracefully waved to interrupt the reporters who wanted to continue asking questions, announcing the end of the interview.

"Alright, everyone, our hero needs to rest and also needs to cooperate with the SWAT team to complete the follow-up procedures."

"Please stay tuned for a press conference later for more details."

After saying that, she turned around and prepared to leave.

Before leaving, she turned her head and gave Leon a deep look.

This isn't over yet; we'll be dealing with each other for a long time to come.

Lyon understood that look in his eyes.

Then, with a powerful aura, she got into the Chevrolet Suburban and drove away. The reporters dispersed like the receding tide, and began preparing for the subsequent press conference.

The scene finally quieted down.

The SWAT team was busy towing away the upside-down Mustang and cleaning up the oil and debris on the road.

"call……"

Ward finally vomited everything out of his stomach.

He leaned against the hood of the Explorer vehicle, which was riddled with holes, holding a cigarette that was half-soaked by the rain. His hand was still trembling slightly, but at least his face wasn't as pale as before.

"Smack."

He lit the fire, took a deep drag, and let the nicotine soothe his still-twitching stomach.

Seeing Leon approach, Ward shook another cigarette out of his pack and handed it to him.

"then."

Lyon didn't stand on ceremony, took out a cigarette and lit it. The spicy tobacco flavor mixed with the dampness of the rain entered his lungs, dispelling some of his fatigue.

Ward exhaled a smoke ring, looking at Leon with a complicated expression, then glanced at the Mustang in the distance, now a pile of scrap metal, and hesitated for a long time:

"Leon, I've just seriously considered it. If I ever feel like I don't want to live anymore, I'll ride in your car one more time."

"When I was going around the bend just now, I even thought of the beginning of my will."

Leon chuckled and patted Ward on the shoulder:

"Don't say that, Ward. We were just faster than a helicopter, weren't we?"

Just then, a patrol car that arrived late stopped outside the cordon.

Mia Torres pushed open the car door and ran over, panting.

She was left behind to take care of Bob, and after the ambulance took him away, she ran to the hospital again, finally managing to get a ride in another car.

Seeing the scene of devastation, resembling an air raid, and the two corpses already stuffed into body bags, her face turned deathly pale.

She only breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Leon standing there unharmed, smoking. The anxiety she had been feeling finally subsided.

"Sir! Are you alright?"