Chapter 12 I'll Treat You to a Grenade Too

In the corridor, McClane ran while cheerfully listening to the blonde man cursing him over the walkie-talkie, occasionally tossing back a few retorts.

Owen felt it was about time to strike back. After being bombarded twice and chased like dogs, it was time to give them a taste of their own medicine.

"33rd floor, southwest corner."

The hijacker closely monitoring the surveillance screens suddenly spotted Owen and McClane. Although unsure why the duo hadn't destroyed the cameras this time, he reported their location over the walkie-talkie.

The blonde man immediately led his men towards them, opting for the elevator over the stairs, having learned from previous chases.

"Are you sure they're still on the 33rd floor?" the blonde man asked bitterly upon exiting the elevator, haunted by the duo's elusive tactics.

"Positive. I've been watching since they entered, and all the surveillance cameras in several directions are intact. Unless they can fly, they're definitely still on this floor."

The confident response came from the surveillance room, which had endured much scolding. The blonde man's lips twisted into a cruel smile: "Keep an eye on them. Don't let them escape. I'll catch these bastards myself and show them what hell feels like."

In a room on the 33rd floor, Owen and McClane were unaware of the torture the blonde man planned for them. Even if they knew, they wouldn't care; they were focused, waiting for the outcome of their setup.

A grenade was tied to the inside of the room's doorknob, with its pin connected by a thin string to the other end of the door frame. Opening the door would pull the pin, activating Owen's "gift."

"Vengeance is a dish best served cold, but I'm no gentleman; I want my revenge now."

Time ticked by, and soon footsteps approached, many of them.

The blonde man had spread his men to search every room on the floor. Their search was swift; all doors were open except for the last room. The hijackers quickly gathered at the door.

With no updates from the surveillance room, the blonde man assumed the "rats" were hiding inside. "Do you know the fate of the last man who crossed me? I tied him to a tree and burned him alive with gasoline," the blonde man boasted outside the door, as if delivering a verdict on Owen and McClane's fate. "Thank God I don't have time to torture you slowly. So, you... go... die... now!!!"

Instead of breaching the door, the blonde man chose a direct approach, firing through the door, aiming to kill or terrify.

Gunfire erupted, bullets piercing the wooden door, accompanied by the blonde man's triumphant laughter. His men, following suit, fired at the door.

Suddenly, "Boom."

The hijackers didn't enter, an unexpected twist for Owen and McClane. However, the result was the same; the grenade, though not detonated by its pin, was set off by a bullet.

The explosion sent those closest to the door flying, injuring others with shrapnel and knocking the rest off their feet with the blast wave. The area around the door was scorched, marked by the explosion.

Furious, the blonde man rose from the ground, miraculously unscathed but lightly wounded. Ignoring potential ambushes, he stormed into the room with his gun ready.

The hijackers, eyes red with rage, followed, only to find the room empty, with nowhere to hide.

"Come out! Come out, you bastards!"

The blonde man roared, searching the room, only to notice the open ventilation shaft in the ceiling.

A grate lay haphazardly on the floor next to a cabinet used as a step, its top bearing a clear footprint.

So, the duo had escaped through the vent.

"Fool me again," the blonde man roared in frustration, firing bullets into the ventilation shaft, followed by his men. They were tired of being toyed with, seeking to vent their frustration on the elusive duo.

"They couldn't have gone far."

Some hijackers realized this quickly, knowing the chase hadn't been long. The duo must still be in the vents.

They began firing along the ventilation shafts, not sparing other rooms, shooting indiscriminately wherever they saw vents. The gunfire lasted two minutes before silence returned, leaving every inch of the vents riddled with bullet holes.

Panting, the blonde man realized they hadn't found the duo, unsure if they had escaped or died in the vents.

Then, Hans's voice came over the walkie-talkie: "The police are here. Everyone stick to the plan. Alex, forget those two rats and come back with your men."

So, the blonde man was named Alex.

As Hans's orders echoed, the hijackers looked to Alex, who reluctantly kicked the cabinet before leading his men away.

After the smoke cleared and the dust settled, the room returned to silence. Then, a soft noise broke the quiet as the cabinet door nudged open, revealing a disheveled figure.

"Damn, that was close. I didn't expect them to go crazy like that," Owen cursed, spitting out dust, nearly convinced their cover was blown by the kick.

"Pal, help me out. I can't move," a muffled voice came from the cabinet, McClane's voice.