I Am Extraordinary Alone
Chapter 382 - 380: Anniversary

Chapter 382: Chapter 380: Anniversary

Sethiyan Federation.

July 4th.

1:20 PM.

National Founding Day.

"Clint?"

"Clint, are you ready?"

Clint heard someone calling him and sprung up from his chair, seeing his colleagues straightening their ties and checking their handguns, some even adjusting the auxiliary aiming HUD on their AR sunglasses.

"Didn’t sleep well last night?" Mike glanced at him while he spoke, pushing the magazine into the grip of his pistol.

"I just... dozed off," Clint stood up from his chair, pulling his pistol from the holster, ejecting the magazine and pulling back the slide a few times.

"It was busy this morning, huh?" Mike said.

"The Governor just finished his speech, the afternoon is the crucial part," Clint said.

Mike nodded. In the afternoon, the Governor would ride in a convertible along Golden Avenue. Since it was the first National Founding Day after the enactment of the gun control law, to be precise, the first month after the legislation, the Governor was eager to prove the effectiveness of the law...

"The convertible is too risky," Clint still had some complaints.

"The county police will take care of our blind spots; we just need to watch the Governor’s sides later on," Mike said.

At that moment, the door to the room opened, and a female secretary dressed in white stood at the entrance and said, "We’re leaving."

Clint reloaded his gun and returned it to the holster. He walked to the window and slightly parted the curtains, the glaring sunlight making it hard for him to keep his eyes open. Outside the window was a corner of Golden Avenue, and below were three stretched convertibles parked.

"Let’s go, Clint," Mike patted Clint’s shoulder.

The two of them, along with six other agents, left the room and saw Governor Steijie coming out from a room in front, conversing with an old man with white-bearded.

"Governor Steijie," Mike whispered.

Clint nodded. Although they were all indoor agents at the White House, most of the time, they were stationed at their posts guarding the premises and rarely saw the Governor during the day.

He remembered the first question the instructor asked him during the Governor’s agent assessment.

"Would you take a bullet for the Governor?"

He still remembered the instructor’s blue eyes and the solemn expression.

If it was necessary, he would.

But he hoped it would never come to that.

"I would."

Mike pulled him back to reality, and they all took the elevator down to the ground floor in silence. They stood by the elevator doors, waiting for the Governor.

Outside the main entrance, reporters and some fervent fans of Steijie crowded the area, with the hotel having set up barricades, but the entrance was still packed to bursting with people.

As Steijie and another man in black came out of the elevator, Clint and the others quickly formed a human wall around Steijie.

"Make way! Don’t get too close!" The colleagues said as they walked, using their bodies to separate the frenzied reporters and leaving about 2 meters of space for Steijie.

As they reached the cars, Steijie suddenly stopped, looked at the cameras pointed at him, and smiled as he waved his hand.

Seizing the opportunity, reporters started asking questions incessantly.

"This is your last year in office, do you think the next Governor will continue your gun control policy?"

"Rumors suggest you’re linked with that black giant, can you tell us the truth about that?"

"In your speech this morning, you mentioned you would do one more thing before leaving office, can you give us some hints?"

Clint opened his arms, blocking a cameraman who had gotten too close, and at that moment, Steijie stood behind him.

"I believe you all know that this country has other choices, better ways to live. Even if I am no longer Governor, you have the power to make this law continue to exist," Steijie said.

After he spoke, he settled into the black convertible.

Waiting for the cars to start, Clint and his team got into the two white convertibles behind, four in each vehicle, following the Governor in succession.

As the cars started and left the crazed journalists behind, Clint breathed a sigh of relief, adjusted his tie, and took the passenger seat with Mike driving, maintaining a distance of about 10 meters from the Governor.

"Relax a bit, today’s almost over," Mike said with a smile.

"All units, be advised, we are about to enter a densely crowded section of the parade route," the commander’s voice came through their earpieces.

"Roger that," Clint and the others responded in unison.

High-rise buildings on both sides of the street blocked the summer sun, casting the whole stretch of road into a cool shade, with the intersection ahead bathed in gold to the point where Clint could barely discern the traffic lights.

Clint heard a strange sound.

"Do you hear that?" Clint looked towards Mike.

"What?" asked Mike.

Shaking his head, he looked around, but saw nothing amiss.

In the HUD of his sunglasses, Governor Steijie was highlighted, his figure rimmed with a golden outline in Clint’s vision.

"We are approaching Golden Square soon, maintain speed and turn right," the voice of the driver from behind came through the earpiece.

"Copy that, copy that," Mike acknowledged.

They turned the corner slowly along the wide road, leaving the cluster of buildings, with the vast expanse of Central Park’s lawn opening up on the left.

Clint looked to his right, where the honor guard had started to march; they would begin their procession on the two outer lanes of the three-lane street. Three planes flew overhead, trailing colorful smoke, while the noisy crowd and the music from the honor guard hit Clint, making it hard for him to catch his breath.

"Everything’s normal," Clint continuously received confirmations from his colleagues through his earpiece.

The map of Golden Avenue appeared in the HUD of his sunglasses, marking Governor Steijie’s outline 12 meters ahead.

The motorcade passed by the giant screens at the plaza, with Governor Steijie standing and waving to the citizens who had come out in support.

Clint heard that strange sound again.

"Do you hear that?" Clint had an ominous feeling.

Mike shook his head.

Clint also stood up and scanned the surroundings.

"What the hell are you doing?" Mike asked, alarmed.

Clint looked at the honor guards on both sides, in uniform, some holding flags, some beating drums, some blowing horns.

At least 40 meters from the center of the street, the public was behind barricades, holding up their phones to record and photograph the motorcade.

"Clint, sit down," Mike said.

"I heard it again..." Clint insisted.

"What the hell is it?" Mike said urgently.

"Suppressor..." Clint pronounced, "It’s gunfire!"

"That’s impossible, how could you hear anything?" Mike questioned again.

Clint’s heart started pounding; he knew that feeling...

years ago, he had gone to the community elementary school to watch his son’s school football tournament when four Black teens, armed with silenced pistols, opened fire from the stands.

He would never forget that sound.

"Pistol..." Clint said.

He jumped out of the car and sprinted towards Governor Steijie.

"Clint!!" Mike shouted after him.

But Clint ran heedlessly towards Governor Steijie, who was still standing in the vehicle, waving in the direction of the park.

Clint heard the sound again.

Governor Steijie’s body jerked, then he fell to one side of the car.

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