Jimmy had completed his investigation report and was driving back to Dallas. Now that there wasn't much pressing him, Jimmy wasn't in a hurry. For him, who had previously only been in Arkansas and New York, Texas had its charms with its vast population and numerous large farms, the endless fields could indeed be quite soothing to the soul.

Jimmy picked up some food at a roadside diner near a gas station and hit the road, then camped at a scenic spot. Although he was alone and the lunch was just from a roadside diner, sitting under the shade of a tree on the grass and relaxing while having lunch was very comfortable, especially since he had been driving for quite a while.

However, his good mood lasted only for ten minutes before he heard distant siren sounds. Soon, a black pickup rushed past on the main road followed by two police cars in pursuit. This sort of situation was quite normal; Jimmy had been involved in similar incidents before where he had been chased by police for speeding—a minor matter. But then, Jimmy was stunned.

Jimmy's car was parked on a small road by the main road. The damaged pickup didn't continue to flee on the main road, but instead, turned into the small road. Jimmy's car was scraped on the side by the pickup. The black Victoria Crown's left-side paintwork was completely ruined, scratched all over by the passing vehicle.

The police cars turned the corner as well, and Jimmy didn't even pack up his lunch but immediately stood up and ran towards his car.

"Fxxk." Jimmy got into the car, started it up, and chased after the police cars. Although he did not own the car, it was assigned to him by the Dallas office, and they had given him a perfectly good vehicle. It was unjust to have to return it with the entire left-side paint damaged.

Jimmy followed for a while, and already the police cars had performed a PIT maneuver on the pickup in the fields. Observing the situation, Jimmy could imagine what had happened—the pickup must have been preparing to turn at the intersection when it was rammed from behind by the police cars. Now, the vehicle was almost turned 180 degrees and parked on the side of a field road.

The Texas highway patrol officers had moved up to the driver's seat of the pickup and were arresting the driver. The officers in the following cars saw Jimmy catching up and signaled for him to stop.

Jimmy did not step out of his car but raised his hands to show he was unarmed. The officer approached and signaled Jimmy to roll down his window, which he did and then signaled that he needed to show his identification.

Luckily, his FBI credentials were still very effective. Although Jimmy mentioned he was armed, the officer didn't make a fuss about it.

The officer collaborated in gathering information on the involved driver and took down the insurance number for Jimmy. The rest was just a matter of procedure that would be handled by the Dallas office. All Jimmy could do was accept this stroke of bad luck and continue his journey in the heavily damaged car.

Jimmy returned to Dallas, rested for a night, and drove to the Dallas office the next day. He first returned the car, submitted the driver's information and insurance number, and then brought the report to Lambert's office.

Jimmy, "Supervisor Lambert, the preliminary report for the case at Big Bend National Park is complete."

Jimmy submitted the case report to Lambert, then was told to take a rest. As Jimmy had no office in Dallas, he could only return to his hotel to rest while his report was handed to another agent for analysis.

Staying in his room was boring. Seeing that there were no cases to handle or direct orders to return to New York, Jimmy decided to head out and browse the shops. In Texas, firearm regulations were relatively lax, which allowed him to openly carry his revolver without having to conceal it under his clothes.

Jimmy returned to the Dallas office and reapplied for a car in the vehicle management department. Luckily, he had already given them a heads-up when he returned his car in the morning. They reassigned him a Victoria Crown, and driving the car, Jimmy began to explore Dallas.

"Bang", "Bang", two gunshots not far apart startled Jimmy. At the same time as the second bang, his rear car window was shattered by a bullet. Jimmy aggressively pressed the gas pedal and surged forward, then changed lanes and pulled over to the roadside. Jimmy got out and took cover behind the engine, watching the area where the shots had come from.

Jimmy picked up his phone and dialed 911. During the brief time he had surged forward, several more shots rang out, causing chaos among the vehicles on the road. It appeared that the shooter was not targeting Jimmy specifically but was randomly shooting at cars on the road.

After the 911 call connected, Jimmy reported the incident and identified himself to facilitate contact once the police arrived at the scene. Luckily, a house nearby had a plaque with the house number, which allowed Jimmy to report his location accurately despite not being familiar with Dallas street names.

After reporting, Jimmy hung his FBI badge around his neck. The badge had a hidden chain inside that could be pulled out to hang around the neck—a depiction often seen in American drama series where agents usually wore it on their belts but hung it around their necks during investigations. It wasn't that they had two badges, but the same one.

With his revolver drawn, Jimmy crossed the street. Based on the gunshot sounds, Jimmy had already determined the shooter's location. It was now all about getting there to pin down exactly where the gunman was.

This was a residential area, thankfully not a multi-story apartment complex. The range of the shooter was roughly limited to two houses based on the sounds of the gunfire. Jimmy was a bit far, a distance of several tens of meters, and since he had crossed the street, unless the shooter was continuously watching him, his safety was somewhat assured.

Jimmy reached the two houses where he suspected the shooter might be hiding. One housed two adults and a child; they seemed to have heard the gunshots and were all hiding in a room inside. This probably wasn't it. Jimmy looked toward the neighboring house—no one was on the first floor, but someone was lying in the attic with two guns in front of him: a rifle that was still being used to shoot outside and a handgun lying in front.

Jimmy ran to the front door and kicked it open, almost straining his back since the door was merely latched and not locked. Luckily, no one saw this embarrassing maneuver. Jimmy kept his eyes on the person in the attic; he had stopped shooting outside and was now turning to face the attic stairs.

"FBI! Don't move, drop your weapon."

Jimmy reached the foot of the pull-down stairs to the attic. He didn't climb up immediately but stood lower, aiming his gun upwards. Hearing the FBI, the person in the attic probably panicked a bit. He quickly turned the gun's muzzle towards the attic floor and began shooting. It was a wooden floor, hardly able to stop the bullets of a rifle. Seeing the muzzle dip, Jimmy knew this was bad; he quickly ran to take cover behind the adjacent wall, which thankfully seemed to be a load-bearing wall rather than a typical wooden partition found in most rooms.

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