Jimmy followed Jones into the apartment. Thankfully, it was only once inside that he realized there were windows at both the front and back, allowing sunlight to come in normally, though he suspected the ventilation might not be great. The main concern he had spotted upon entering was the potential for rainwater entering the unit.
However, on his way there, he noticed many buildings had this same structure. It was probably fine if it was a standard design. If rainwater entered every time it rained, who would live in such a place?
Jimmy wondered haphazardly, unable to figure out the logic of these Americans. Not to mention his past life; even in Little Rock, he had never seen such a design. Everything there was bigger, and the studio he rented seemed to be over 60 square meters in size.
Jones said, "This is my room. You can sleep on that sofa tonight, it should be long enough." Jimmy glanced at it, a three-seater sofa, and its width was also sufficient, much better than he had expected.
Jimmy placed his suitcase next to the sofa and said to Jones, "Is there a supermarket nearby? I need to buy some stuff."
Jones replied, "Of course, just go out, turn right, and it's across two streets. Here's a key for you."
Jimmy took the key and said, "Thanks. What about dinner? Want to grab something together?"
Jones replied, "No, I have things to do. You handle it yourself. I'm off first."
Jimmy nodded to Jones and also left the apartment with him.
While Jones took care of his business, Jimmy decided to go to the supermarket for supplies, mainly toiletries like toothpaste, toothbrushes, and towels since he hadn't packed these in his luggage.
It was surprising, really. Jones had just met him and already he was letting Jimmy stay with him for a few days, even giving him a key. He wasn't sure what to make of it. Did Jones trust him just because he was a new agent trained by the FBI Academy?
Or was it because Jimmy's Asian heritage made him appear harmless?
Jimmy bought a bunch of items, carrying two paper bags back to Jones's apartment. Aside from toiletries, he also bought some food. Having spotted a microwave in Jones's kitchen earlier, Jimmy wasn't picky and figured a supermarket run for fried chicken, bread, and salad would suffice for dinner.
On his way back, Jimmy suddenly noticed a commotion ahead; a group of people were running in all directions. Something had happened. Jimmy had run a few steps forward when he heard gunshots. Thankfully, it was the sound of a pistol, not the sharper, louder sound of a rifle.
Based on the direction the crowd was running, it seemed the trouble was on the other side of a store at the intersection. As he ran, Jimmy activated his special ability, "Heart Eye," to look into the store. Through the walls, he saw two people using a car by the curb as cover, exchanging gunfire with pistols.
There were two people lying on the ground, their bodies twisting and convulsing. It seemed they had been shot, but it was unclear if they were bystanders or the intended targets of the shootout.
When Jimmy reached the intersection, he placed his paper bags on the ground and drew his revolver, shouting, "FBI, drop your weapons, drop your weapons!"
Jimmy shouted around the corner first, but the two men ignored his calls, continuing to fire and reload.
Seeing that shouting was ineffective, Jimmy stepped out from cover. The gunmen were behind two cars. Jimmy first shot the man closest to him. Since it was his first time firing a weapon in New York, and he was unsure of the enforcement practices here, Jimmy chose to show mercy—he shot the gunman once in the right arm and once in the thigh. The man's pistol dropped to the ground, and he fell, beginning to wail.
"FBI, drop your weapons."
Jimmy shouted again, the gunman across the street probably hadn't noticed that his target had already been taken down by Jimmy, and he was still firing at the previous position.
With repeated warnings ineffective, Jimmy couldn't be bothered to circle around; he shot directly through the car, as the opponent's position was clear. He emptied the remaining 4 bullets towards the gunman across.
Being in Manhattan, the number of NYPD officers was clearly over the standard. Just in the short time Jimmy fired his gun, the sound of police sirens began to blare.
Jimmy took out his wallet, raising his left hand towards the approaching police car. The police car stopped, and two NYPD officers got out, drawing their guns and aiming at Jimmy.
"NYPD, put down the weapon, put down the weapon."
"FBI, the gunman is down."
One of the officers aimed at Jimmy and cautiously walked over, checked the credentials, and handed them back to Jimmy.
Officer: "What happened?"
Jimmy: "I don't know. I was on my way back from shopping at the supermarket when I heard there was a shootout here. Two gunmen, one is on the ground, the other across the car, both taken down."
The officer, still holding his handgun, walked over to the person on the ground. Both gunmen were checked, and then he picked up the radio to call the dispatch center to arrange for ambulances to come.
By then, the other officer came over from beside the police car. Knowing there was no danger anymore when the call for ambulances had already been made, he holstered his gun and stood beside Jimmy, essentially to watch him and prevent him from leaving.
Jimmy ejected the empty cartridge casings from the revolver he held in his right hand, removed the spare 6 bullets from the holster belt under his arm, reloaded the bullets, and then placed the revolver back under his arm. Since he was wearing a suit, he hadn't placed the loose bullets in his pockets; all his spare ammunition was these 6 bullets.
Then Jimmy took out his cellphone and dialed Peter Bullock's number.
"Peter, it's Jimmy. I stopped a shooting near Jones' place. NYPD has arrived. What should I do? I'm not familiar with procedures here in New York."
"Don't say anything, wait for me right there, I'll be there in 10 minutes."
Peter hung up, grabbed the suit on the sofa's handle and rushed out the door, leaving his bewildered wife behind.
It must be said, New York really is wealthy. Just from the police cars and ambulances arriving, Jimmy was feeling that his past days were incredibly lean.
With the scene controlled by Jimmy, 7 police cars, 14 officers, and 4 ambulances had arrived, the road had been cleared, passersby were all isolated outside, and the ambulances were attending to 2 pedestrians who had fallen earlier and one gunman, while the man across the street, who Jimmy had shot with 4 bullets, was declared dead on the spot by the emergency medical doctor in the ambulance.
Back in Little Rock, a gunfight, if already over, definitely wouldn't have seen so many police cars coming; everyone was so busy with their own affairs, there just wasn't the manpower and police resources to waste on managing traffic at the scene.
The NYPD truly lived up to its reputation as America's largest police force. The level of resource waste was severe, and Jimmy was greatly moved, thinking back on his days when he wished he had so many police brothers that there wouldn't have been the need to work up to 70 hours a week adding up regular and overtime hours… particularly in the early days when he was on support duty, overtime was intense, even often sleeping at the police station.