A Rider Kick in Marvel Rewrite

Detective Yuri Watanabe's police cruiser screeched around the corner, tires smoking against the asphalt. The downtown financial district looked like a war zone. Gunshots echoed between skyscrapers, punctuated by the sharp crack of automatic weapons and terrified civilian screams.

She pulled her vehicle behind a overturned delivery truck, drawing her weapon and surveying the chaotic scene. Several officers were pinned down behind scattered concrete barriers and abandoned vehicles, returning fire intermittently.

Yuri moved quickly, sliding into cover next to a young patrol officer who was breathing heavily, sweat beading on his forehead. His hands trembled slightly as he reloaded his service weapon.

"Status report," she demanded, her voice cutting through the ambient noise of gunfire and panic.

The officer glanced at her, relief momentarily crossing his face. "Five heavily armed suspects. They've been shooting indiscriminately for the past fifteen minutes. We've got multiple civilian casualties and injuries."

Yuri's eyes narrowed, scanning the street. Broken glass and spent shell casings littered the ground. Several civilian bodies lay motionless, while wounded individuals crawled or were dragged behind whatever cover they could find.

"How many of our people are hit?"

The officer's face went pale. "Dozens of our people are down. They've rigged bombs throughout the district. Bomb squad's working on most of them, but there's one last device strapped to a hostage. The shooters are guarding it."

Yuri's jaw tightened. Her eyes scanned the chaotic street, calculating potential approaches.

Suddenly, a massive explosion rocked the street. Concrete and debris rained down as both Yuri and the officer dove for cover behind the overturned delivery truck. The blast wave sent a cloud of dust and smoke billowing into the air.

"I'm going around," Yuri said, checking her weapon.

The officer grabbed her arm. "It's suicide. They've got clear lines of sight. You'll never—"

But Yuri was already moving.

She low-crawled behind abandoned vehicles, using the smoke as cover. Bullets pinged off metal and concrete around her, sharp and precise. The shooters were professional—military-trained, possibly mercenaries. Each movement was calculated, each shot deliberate.

Yuri weaved between parked cars, her police training kicking in. She moved in short, quick bursts, using every piece of urban terrain as potential cover. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her breath controlled and steady.

The sounds of gunfire continued. Civilians screamed. The bomb squad's radio chatter crackled in the background, urgent and tense.

Yuri was almost in position to flank the shooters.

Yuri crept silently behind the group of armed shooters. Her movements were precise, calculated, each step measured to avoid detection. The sounds of gunfire and chaos masked her approach.

One shooter stood slightly apart from the group, his back turned. In a lightning-fast motion, Yuri launched herself forward. Her arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him down and rendering him unconscious with a swift, professional takedown. The move was smooth, almost elegant—a perfect blend of technique and efficiency.

Before the other shooters could react, Yuri was already firing. Her shots were quick and accurate, taking down two more assailants before they could fully turn. The remaining shooters scrambled, but Yuri's police training gave her the tactical advantage.

Within moments, the threat was neutralized.

"Clear!" she shouted to the surrounding officers. "Secure the area and get medical support for the civilians!"

A young patrol officer nearby muttered to his partner, just loud enough for others to hear, "Man, she is so cool."

His partner elbowed him, suppressing a laugh.

Yuri rushed toward the hostage, her heart racing. The man sat slumped against a concrete pillar, his eyes wide with terror. A complex explosive device was strapped to his chest, a digital timer counting down with merciless precision. Red numbers flickered: 7:43... 7:42... 7:41...

She knelt beside him, her voice calm and steady. "You're going to be okay," Yuri said, carefully reaching up to remove the tape from his mouth. "I need you to stay calm. Help is coming."

Her hand moved to her radio. "I need bomb squad at my location immediately. Hostage with active explosive device. Repeat: active explosive device."

Within moments, a bomb squad officer arrived, his protective gear making him look like an astronaut in an urban landscape. He moved with practiced efficiency, dropping to one knee beside the hostage.

Yuri watched intently, her eyes locked on the timer. 6:22... 6:21... 6:20...

"Can you disarm it?" she asked, her voice tight but controlled.

The bomb squad officer examined the device, his hands moving carefully over the intricate network of wires and circuits. "It's going to be tight," he responded, "but I can do it."

Yuri's eyes swept the area. "We need to evacuate the remaining civilians from the building," she called out to nearby officers. A team quickly moved to escort the terrified people to safety.

The bomb squad officer continued his delicate work on the explosive device, his fingers moving with surgical precision over the complex wiring. The hostage sat trembling, sweat beading on his forehead.

Suddenly, the sharp crack of gunfire erupted. Two remaining shooters burst from a side entrance, their weapons raised and aimed directly at Yuri's position.

"Get down!" Yuri shouted, pushing the hostage behind a concrete barrier. The bomb squad officer dropped low, shielding the explosive device with his body.

Bullets pinged and ricocheted off the surrounding metal and concrete. Dust and debris filled the air with each impact.

Yuri's hand moved to her weapon. "I'll handle them," she said to the bomb squad officer. "Keep working on that device."

The officer nodded, his focus returning to the timer and the intricate network of wires. The hostage watched in terrified silence as Yuri prepared to engage the remaining shooters.

Detective Yuri Watanabe dropped into a firing stance, her weapon trained on the two remaining shooters. The first shooter went down with two precise shots, his body crumpling against a nearby wall. The second shooter dove for cover, returning fire with rapid, desperate bursts.

Bullets chewed into the concrete barrier where Yuri had taken shelter. Dust and fragments rained down around her. She pressed her back against the wall, quickly checking her weapon. The magazine was empty.

Her eyes narrowed. The remaining shooter was advancing, taking advantage of her sudden vulnerability.

Yuri tossed her empty weapon aside and prepared for close-quarters combat. As the shooter rounded the corner, she lunged forward. Her hands grabbed the barrel of his gun, forcefully pushing it away from her body. With a sharp twist, she knocked the weapon from his grip.

The shooter recovered quickly, throwing a hard punch that Yuri barely dodged. She countered with a swift strike to his solar plexus, causing him to double over. They grappled at close range, each fighting for control.

The shooter was larger and had a strength advantage, but Yuri's police training gave her a technical edge. She used his momentum against him, twisting and redirecting his attacks. They crashed into a nearby wall, trading blows in a brutal hand-to-hand struggle.

Yuri blocked a punch and responded with a sharp elbow strike to the shooter's jaw.

With a final, decisive strike, Yuri knocked the shooter unconscious. She spun around, her eyes immediately locking onto the bomb's digital display. The timer flickered menacingly: 9:58... 9:57... 9:56...

The bomb squad officer remained hunched over the device, his hands moving with surgical precision. Sweat beaded on his forehead, droplets trailing down his protective gear. The hostage pressed himself against the concrete barrier, his breath coming in short, terrified gasps.

8:43... 8:42... 8:41...

Yuri held her breath. The world seemed to narrow to that single blinking display, each second an eternity.

7:15... 7:14... 7:13...

The bomb squad officer's fingers moved with incredible delicacy, carefully separating a series of intricate wires. His movements were slow, deliberate, each second a potential catastrophe.

3:02... 3:01... 3:00...

"Almost there," the officer muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

2:15... 2:14... 2:13...

Yuri's hand unconsciously clenched into a fist.

1:59... 1:58... 1:57...

With a final, precise movement, the bomb squad officer cut the last wire.

The timer stopped.

Silence fell over the scene. The hostage let out a choked sob. The bomb squad officer slumped back, exhaustion written across his body. Yuri released a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

They had disarmed the bomb with less than two seconds to spare.

The bomb squad officer looked up, his face covered in sweat and dust. Yuri approached him, her movements measured and controlled.

"Good job," she said, her voice steady and professional. She extended her hand to help him up.

The officer grabbed her hand, rising to his feet. He glanced around at the neutralized threat and then back to Yuri.

"Good job on taking down the shooters,"

Yuri nodded, her attention already shifting to the surrounding area. Paramedics were treating the hostage, and other officers were securing the scene. The sounds of sirens and radio chatter filled the air.

The bomb squad officer began carefully packing up his equipment, the tension of the past few minutes slowly dissipating.

***

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Advance chapters are in my P@|r3on - Najicablitz