A Professional at Stealing Credit

John smiled miserably, unable to calm down. He slowly lowered his UMP and tossed it aside.

Hans smiled. "That's right. It's better for you to die. You son of a b*tch, you killed so many of my men. Now, go to hell… ugh!"

Bang!

Suddenly, something flew out from the back and hit Hans in the back of his head.

Hans collapsed and passed out.

John was stunned. It looked like a baseball?

He looked somewhat blankly at Hans, who was unconscious.

A Beretta 92F was plastered to his back, just within reach when he had his hands up. It was supposed to be his final move.

Luke smiled and walked out from behind a cement pillar. "It's so nice to see that you're alright, Detective John."

John was surprised. "You…" What makes you think I'm alright? I'm injured all over – I'm not fine at all!

Luke spread his hands and said, "Forgive me, but Hans can't die. LAPD needs him alive for interrogation, so I had to knock him out instead."