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"Get them to safety!"
Cassius already had his pistol up. "Rafael, take two guys behind that scrap pile on the left. Anna, your team covers the right-side gap."
After the last few fights, Cassius had become the undisputed anchor of the group.
He climbed to a glassless window on the second floor and braced his gun.
The position gave him a wide field of fire across the entire open area.
He took a deep breath. The environmental awareness from Street Vehicle Offense & Defense Instinct kicked in again.
Distance, wind direction, lead on moving targets—all the data flowed into his mind on pure instinct.
Down below, Vin Diesel's group had made it into the factory zone, but they were clearly exhausted. Their pace had slowed to a crawl.
The pickups behind them were closing fast, headlights almost on their backs.
"Now!" Cassius muttered, then squeezed the trigger.
Bang!
The first shot wasn't aimed at a person—it punched the right front tire of the lead pickup.
The tire blew with a loud crack that cut through the night.
The truck swerved wildly. The driver yanked the wheel, but it was too late. The vehicle slammed into a pile of rebar and flipped.
The second pickup slammed on the brakes. Gunmen jumped out and used the truck as cover to return fire.
That was when Rafael and Anna's crossfire opened up.
Rat-tat-tat-tat!
Bullets poured in from two directions, pinning the attackers down.
Vin's group froze for a second, then realized they had support. They scrambled the last few yards to the factory wall, gasping like broken bellows.
"Who's up there?" Harper shouted, gun raised, staring toward Cassius's position.
"Friendlies!" Cassius yelled back. He fired again, this time hitting the gas tank of the second pickup.
Lucky shot.
The tank detonated.
Boom!
The small explosion lit up half the factory yard.
The shockwave knocked the remaining gunmen flat. They stayed down.
The fight ended faster than anyone expected.
Gal came roaring back around the side on the Ducati and gave Cassius a big thumbs-up.
Cassius dropped down from the second floor. The landing wasn't graceful—he tweaked his ankle—but nobody cared.
He walked over to Vin's group. "Everyone okay?"
Vin was leaning against the wall, bald head glistening with sweat under the moonlight.
He looked up at Cassius, expression complicated. "Cass? What the hell are you doing here?"
"Long story," Cassius said, scanning the group. "Casualties?"
Harper's face was grim. "We started with twelve. Down to seven now. Lost two crew members and a couple assistants on the way."
Director Justin Lin set down the camera rig. Somehow the thing was still working.
He wiped dust from his face. "Cassius, those shots just now… were they yours?"
"Yeah."
"Insanely accurate," Justin said.
Paul chimed in, blood seeping through the bandage on his arm. "How many more hidden talents do you have that we don't know about?"
Cassius looked at everyone. "We can't stay here. Gunshots and that explosion will bring more people. But you're all running on empty. Rest five minutes, treat wounds, drink water."
Harper nodded. "Agreed. I got through to the embassy on the sat phone. Rio military got the message too, but mobilizing a full response will take time. Earliest they can reach this area is two hours."
"Two hours…" Justin gave a bitter laugh. "Plenty of time to die a few times over."
"So we find a defensible position," Cassius said, scanning the area. His eyes settled on a three-story abandoned office building deeper in. "That building. We can barricade the first floor doors and windows. Second and third floors have good sightlines, and the stairwell is narrow—perfect for defense."
"Works for me," Vin said, pushing off the wall. "I'm listening to you now, kid. Those shots you made back there? I'm impressed."
The group moved into the office building.
It was empty, dusty, and full of broken glass, but the structure was still solid.
Rafael and his men used scrap metal and rebar to block every first-floor entrance, leaving only one low crawl-space opening.
Everyone gathered in a large room on the second floor. For the first time in hours, they could actually breathe.
Cassius finally had a chance to ask, "What happened to you guys?"
Harper's face darkened. "We broke north according to plan. It went okay at first—we fought off the first wave. But when we got close to the exfil point, another group had already taken it. Looked like a local gang faction. We had to reroute and accidentally ran into their turf. They chased us the whole way. Director Lin refused to ditch the camera rig, slowed us down, and we lost two people."
Justin coughed awkwardly. "That camera has all the footage we shot today."
"Footage or your life?" Paul shot back.
"Both matter," Justin said seriously. "Everyone risked their lives for those shots. Would've been a shame to lose them."
Cassius didn't comment. He looked at Vin. "How bad are the injuries?"
"Scrapes and sprains," Vin said shortly. "But we can still fight."
A group of Hollywood actors had been turned into soldiers by real bullets.
Paul pointed at his bandaged arm. "Grazed by a ricochet. Not deep. But we need antibiotics—this place is filthy. Infection would be a nightmare."
Cassius turned to Anna. "How much medical stuff do we have left?"
"Bandages almost gone, half a bottle of disinfectant, a few painkillers."
Anna gave a tired smile. "Ammo, on the other hand? We've got plenty. Took it off the bodies."
"Treat the wounds first," Cassius said, then looked at Gal. "You help?"
She nodded and took the kit, starting to clean Paul's wound with careful hands.
Her movements weren't professional, but they were careful.
Cassius walked to the window and looked out.
The abandoned factory under moonlight looked like a horror-movie set. The silence was unnerving.
The quieter it got, the more uneasy everyone felt.
"You think they'll come back?" Vin asked, walking over and handing him a half-bottle of water he'd found somewhere.
Cassius took it and drank. "Definitely. We killed their people, stole their cars, and just blew up two of their pickups. In a place like this, reputation matters more than life. They'll want payback."
"Then we fight," Vin said, cracking his knuckles. "We're too tired to run anyway. Might as well make a stand."
Cassius glanced at him.
The bald action star had dropped the usual "I'm the boss" aura. All that remained was the raw determination of a man backed into a corner.
It felt real.
"You said you contacted the embassy," Cassius asked Harper. "Do they have our exact location?"
"Gave them approximate coordinates," Harper replied. "But the favela layout is a nightmare. Finding us precisely will take time."
He paused. "I'm not sure how hard the military will try. The water's deep here—some gangs have ties to the police."
"Understood," Cassius said. "So we're on our own for the next two hours."
The mood in the room grew heavier.
"We have more people now, plenty of ammo, and good defensive terrain," Cassius told them, trying to steady their nerves. "They don't know exactly how many of us there are or what weapons we have. If we hold this position, we can drag it out until daylight. Rescue chances go way up then."
"How do we hold?" Paul asked.
Cassius crouched and sketched on the floor with his knife. "Three floors total. We focus on defending the second and third. First floor is sealed—they can only come through that one small opening."
"Rafael, you and two guys hold the stairwell—that's the choke point. Anna, your team covers the third-floor windows—best sightlines from there. Vin, Paul, if you're still mobile, you're with me on the main second-floor windows."
"Director Lin, you still protecting the camera?" Cassius asked.
"I can help load magazines," Justin offered.
"That works too."
Once tasks were assigned, everyone moved to their positions.
Cassius sat against the windowsill, checking the Glock in his hands.
He still had two full magazines plus what he'd taken from the bodies—over sixty rounds total.
Enough for a small war.
Gal finished treating the wounds and sat down beside him. "You really never had military training before?"
"Never," Cassius said honestly. "I'm just an actor."
"Then it's a shame you didn't join the military. That kind of talent is wasted."
"I prefer acting," Cassius said with a small smile. "At least when you die in a movie you get to do another take."
Gal laughed, but the smile faded fast. "You think we can hold out until rescue gets here?"
"We have to," Cassius said firmly. "We will."
It wasn't blind optimism. In a situation like this, confidence was more important than bullets.
Time crawled by.
Nothing moved outside.
But the silence only made everyone more tense.
Cassius kept checking the windows. The factory yard under moonlight was completely empty. Even the stray dogs had gone quiet.
It wasn't normal.
"They're waiting for us to drop our guard or for more reinforcements," Rafael said quietly.
"Or waiting for us to fall asleep," Paul yawned. "Fuck, I'm exhausted."
"Don't you dare," Vin slapped his arm. "You fall asleep here you might not wake up."
They were still joking when—
Whoosh—Bang!
A Molotov cocktail came flying from the darkness and smashed against the iron plates blocking the first-floor entrance. Flames spread instantly.
"They're here!" Cassius shot to his feet.
Gunfire erupted from every direction.
Bullets chewed into the walls, sending fragments flying.
The attackers had learned. They weren't rushing in this time. They laid down suppressive fire while several shadows used the night and cover to creep closer to the building.
"Free fire!" Harper roared. "Don't let them get close!"
The shooting intensified.
Cassius picked a moving shadow and dropped him with one shot.
But more figures kept appearing from the darkness.
This time the enemy had brought serious numbers—at least thirty, and they were organized.
Some laid down covering fire, others threw more Molotovs, and a few tried to hook-and-climb up to the second-floor windows.
"Right-side window! They're trying to climb!" Anna shouted from the third floor.
Cassius turned and saw a grappling hook already caught on the sill. Someone was climbing the rope.
He raised his pistol and fired. The rope snapped. The man screamed as he fell.
Another hook immediately took its place.
"We can't keep this up forever!" Rafael yelled from the stairwell. "There's too many of them!"
Cassius's mind raced.
Holding position wasn't sustainable. They needed to break the enemy's rhythm.
He looked at Gal. "Bike still good to go?"
"Yeah."
"Willing to go crazy with me?"
Her eyes lit up. "What's the plan?"
"You take the Ducati out the back, swing around their flank and cause chaos. I'll drop from the second floor and harass from the other side. We don't need kills—just draw fire and give the people upstairs clear shots."
"Too dangerous!"
"Better than sitting here waiting to die."
Gal stared at him for two seconds, then smiled. "Fine. Let's go crazy together."
She was never one to back down from a thrill.
No fear in her eyes.
Cassius looked at Rafael and Vin. "Once we're out, you focus fire on the main group in front. Ignore us."
"You sure about this?" Vin asked.
"Positive."
No time for more talk.
Cassius and Gal crept downstairs and slipped out through a hole in the back wall. The Ducati was hidden there.
Gal fired up the engine. Cassius jumped on behind her—this position reminded him of Hong Kong cop movies, but there was no time to joke about it.
"Hold on tight!" Gal twisted the throttle. The Ducati shot forward like a cannonball, swinging in a wide arc toward the enemy's flank.
The roaring engine cut through the night. The attackers' attention snapped toward the noise. Part of their fire shifted.
Now!
The second the bike got close to a pile of scrap, Cassius jumped off, rolling into cover.
Gal kept racing, constantly changing direction, pulling even more fire.
Cassius raised his pistol and started picking targets.
Street Vehicle Offense & Defense Instinct was operating at full power in this running fight.
He didn't need to aim carefully. He fired on feel—almost every shot hit.
Center mass or head shots. Brutally efficient.
The enemy formation started to break.
Upstairs, Vin and the others seized the opening and poured concentrated fire on the main group.
Crossfire from two directions. Enemy casualties spiked.
Five minutes later the attack lost momentum.
Three minutes after that, the enemy began withdrawing.
Cassius leaned against a pile of scrap metal, breathing hard.
A ricochet had grazed his arm. It burned like fire.
Gal came roaring back on the Ducati and stopped in front of him. "Still alive?"
"Still alive," Cassius said, grimacing. "Nice riding."
"Your shooting was nicer," she replied, reaching down with her good hand to help him up.
When they got back inside the building, everyone looked at them differently.
"You two are actually insane," Paul said, shaking his head.
Justin Lin suddenly lifted the camera. "I got some of that on tape."
Everyone turned to him.
"I figured if we didn't make it, at least there'd be footage so people would know what happened," Justin said, a little embarrassed.
The group that had started as Hollywood colleagues had become battle-hardened comrades in just a few hours of real combat.
Vin laughed. "Keep filming then. If we get out of this alive, that footage goes straight into the movie. Real gunfights beat stunt doubles any day."
Dawn was approaching.
Cassius leaned against the second-floor windowsill, eyelids heavy as lead.
But he didn't dare sleep.
Every time he closed his eyes for more than three seconds, the image of that security guy taking a bullet to the forehead and dropping flashed in his mind.
"How much longer?" Paul asked hoarsely. His bandage was soaked through with blood again.
Harper checked the sat-phone clock. "Theoretically, forty minutes."
Everyone knew the truth: rescue could be late. Or it might not come at all.
Vin suddenly spoke up. "If they don't show, we fight our way out. Better than dying here waiting."
"How?" Justin asked bitterly. "There's still at least thirty of them out there."
"Then we take thirty lives with us," Vin said calmly, like he was discussing tomorrow's lunch. "I'll take at least five."
Cassius stayed quiet.
He was running the numbers in his head. A forced breakout gave them less than thirty percent chance of survival.
But staying here meant either being overrun and massacred or running out of ammo and surrendering—then being used for ransom or executed.
Both options sucked.
That was when Gal suddenly raised a finger. "Listen."
Everyone held their breath.
From very far away came a sound different from gunfire.
Engines.
Coming from the sky.
"Helicopters!" Rafael shot to his feet.
Then the ground began to tremble faintly.
Not explosions—heavy vehicles. And a lot of them.
Harper rushed to the window and raised his night-vision binoculars toward the sound.
Seconds later his voice shook. "Armored vehicles! Brazilian military armor! And U.S. Humvees!"
Before he finished speaking, powerful searchlights suddenly lit up the factory perimeter, turning night into day.
A loudspeaker blared in both Portuguese and English:
"This is the Brazilian military joint task force! Everyone inside, drop your weapons and surrender immediately!"
"Repeat—drop your weapons and surrender immediately!"
"All unarmed personnel, remain inside the buildings and do not move!"
The gunmen surrounding them clearly panicked.
Some fired toward the lights, but they were answered by a storm of return fire.
Heavy machine guns roared.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
The gunfire was so dense it made everyone's scalp tingle.
Cassius glanced out the window and saw the gunmen who had been hiding behind cover fall like wheat being cut.
The incoming force's firepower was overwhelming—and terrifyingly accurate.
Then came the most shocking sight.
Three black helicopters suddenly dove out of the night sky. American flags were clearly visible on their sides.
The choppers hovered over the factory. Ropes dropped. Fully geared special forces operators fast-roped down with textbook precision.
"Is that SEAL Team Six?" Paul's eyes were wide.
"Could be Delta," Harper muttered. "The embassy actually called them in…"
Cassius watched the scene below.
The special forces split into teams, moving with perfect mutual cover. Every movement was textbook. Every shot hit.
The favela gunmen, who had seemed so dangerous earlier, looked like amateurs against professionals.
The fight was over in less than five minutes.
Completely over.
Every attacker was either dead or on their knees with hands up.
The loudspeaker sounded again: "Personnel inside the building, this is U.S. Embassy security. Please identify yourselves!"
Harper rushed to the window, waving a white T-shirt someone had taken off. "We're the Fast & Furious 5 film crew! Repeat—we are film crew! We have wounded!"
"Stay in place! We are coming in to extract you!"
Two minutes later, a squad of special forces operators entered the building.
The leader was a white man in his mid-thirties, face painted with camouflage, eyes sharp as knives.
He scanned the group, his gaze lingering on Cassius for an extra second—probably because Cassius was still holding a pistol.
"Everyone, confirm your identities."
His tone was flat, professional.
Harper quickly gave names.
The operator checked against a tablet, nodding at each confirmation.
When it reached Cassius, he looked at the tablet, then at him. "Cassius Cass? American?"
"Yes."
The operator nodded and didn't ask more.
After everyone was verified he pressed his earpiece. "Targets confirmed. All personnel alive. Multiple wounded requiring medical."
"Copy that. Medical team moving in."
What followed was the definition of a "Hollywood-style rescue."
A medical team rushed in first, giving immediate care to every injured person.
Paul and Gal were loaded onto stretchers. Cassius's arm graze was cleaned and bandaged.
The nurses worked with battlefield efficiency.
Then came a group of men in black suits—clearly embassy staff, though they looked like FBI—who started taking statements and recording details from everyone.
Military personnel outside secured the scene, photographed evidence, and cataloged everything.
Cassius watched them line up the dead gunmen neatly, like they were counting battlefield trophies.
The entire process was orderly and terrifyingly efficient.
"That's American power for you," Vin said quietly beside Cassius. "Throwing that kind of weight around on someone else's soil."
Cassius didn't reply.
He was thinking about something else.
How much was this rescue going to cost?
The embassy calling in special forces, the military sending armored vehicles and helicopters—
Who was footing that bill in the end?
The production?
Insurance?
Or the taxpayers?
"Mr. Cass!"
A suited man walked over and handed him a satellite phone. "The Ambassador would like to speak with you."
Cassius took the phone, surprised.
A calm male voice came through. "Mr. Cassius Cass? This is U.S. Ambassador to Brazil John Smith. First, I'm very glad you and the crew members are safe. On behalf of the embassy, thank you for your bravery and leadership in a critical moment."
"I only did what needed to be done," Cassius replied.
"Modesty is a virtue, but facts are facts," the Ambassador said. "You will all be moved to the safest hotel in Rio for full medical checks and psychological support. We will also arrange a press conference to update the global media. This incident has already made headlines worldwide."
Only then did Cassius realize they had been out of contact for nearly six hours.
In the age of social media, six hours was more than enough time for the story to explode globally.
"Will the press conference be mandatory?" Cassius asked.
"We strongly recommend it," the Ambassador said smoothly but firmly. "This isn't just for the production—it's for everyone who's been worried about you. Do you have any idea how many tweets are under the #Fast5 hashtag right now?"
"Over two million."
Cassius hung up and handed the sat phone back.
The man then gave him a brand-new iPhone. "Your personal items may have been lost. This is a temporary replacement. The SIM is already set up and ready."
Cassius powered it on and logged in.
The phone immediately started vibrating nonstop.
He opened Weibo.
The latest post already had over five hundred thousand comments:
"Cass is safe!!!!!!"
"I was terrified when I saw the news—you have to be okay!"
"netizens praying together!"
"Brother, you're tough!"
"Waiting for your 'I'm safe' update!"
Further down, even official media had posted: "It is reported that actor Cass film crew encountered an incident in Brazil. The situation is currently unclear. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs has become involved."
Cassius felt his nose sting.
He posted a short update: "I'm safe. Thank you everyone. More details later."
Less than ten seconds after posting, the comments exploded:
"Caught him alive!"
"Cass is badass!"
"I knew you'd be fine!"
He switched to Twitter.
The top five trending topics were all related:
#FastAndFurious5Kidnapped
#VinDieselMissing
#WhoIsCassiusCass
#RioFavelaGunBattle
#MostDangerousDayInHollywood
The entire world was watching.
Cassius closed the apps and let out a long breath.
The nightmare in the favela was finally over.
But he knew the real aftermath was just beginning.
The story of what happened tonight would follow all of them for the rest of their careers.
And for him, it would become another legendary chapter in his Hollywood journey.
One that no one would ever forget.