Reincarnated in Banshee Town

Back at Siobhan's house, Ethan took a couple of bottles of beer out of the refrigerator. He unscrewed the lid from one of the bottles and handed it to Siobhan. Then, he sat comfortably on the sofa with the other bottle of beer.
—You are not polite —Siobhan commented as he removed his seat belt, hung it heavily on the hook on the wall, lifted the bottle and took a sip. — You don't need to stay, I can defend myself.
—You are now their number one target. You must be careful.
—I know, I just can't stop being upset. You know? The hospital report came out. Bessie Denton, the woman who was dragged by the pavement, suffered three fractures to her body and her jaw is destroyed.
—Don't worry, we'll definitely catch that gang —Ethan tried to divert Siobhan's attention. He looked up and saw some photos hanging on the wall. He got up and approached curiously.
Siobhan's children's version, in the photo, was happily smiling at the camera while holding a Minnie balloon in hand.
—I didn't expect you to have freckles when you were a child, but you were still cute. — Ethan joked.
—That was when I was in elementary school. After begging for a long time, my parents were willing to take me to Disneyland. It was the happiest moment of my life —Siobhan sighed softly —. But now there are only a few photos left —added with melancholy —. It's time for you to go. 
Ethan looked at the photo, hesitated for a moment and said:
—You have seen what happened today. They are here to take revenge. It is too dangerous for you to stay home alone until this matter is resolved. Come with me and stay at my house for a couple of nights when things settle down.
Siobhan refused without thinking:
—This is my house, the place where I was born. I will not leave. I have a gun, I can protect myself.
—Then I can't let you stay here alone. Well, I'm not leaving either. Your sofa is quite comfortable. Do you mind if I rest here tonight? —Ethan tried to change his focus.
—Even if I let you spend the night someday in the future, it won't be to seek your protection —Siobhan replied enthusiastically. He realized what he had said and awkwardly took the beer bottle —. Go, I think you need a break.
Ethan couldn't say more:
—Okay, I'll go first and see you again later.
—You don't need to come, but you can call me after your shift ends. She should still be awake at that time —Siobhan said, although her voice still showed a little nervousness. He shook his braid, turned his head, and looked out the window with his big eyes open. He knew they could look for her to get revenge, and it was impossible not to be nervous.
—Okay, no problem. Then I go.
After leaving Siobhan's house, Ethan chose not to return to work at the police station. Instead, he returned home, took a quick shower, checked his equipment, climbed into his Ford F150, and drove to a location less than 50 meters from Siobhan's home. He moved the car behind some bushes, rolled down the windows, and turned off the engine.
That path is the only way to get to Siobhan's house. If the motorcycle gang came looking for revenge, they would definitely be discovered by him immediately.
Ethan pulled out his M4A1 automatic rifle after checking that there was no problem, and placed it in a convenient location in the passenger seat. The weapons you bought at the gun store last time were reported and registered at the police station, so there is no problem using them for service.
Siobhan has always been kind to him since he joined the department. She decided not only to protect her, but also to protect the house full of memories, because she was not willing to leave her, probably for fear that those people would take her.
After preparing, Ethan lit a cigarette and gently tapped the M4A1 with his fingers. It quickly got dark. Occasionally, he would get out of the car to flex his body so as not to feel numb; the rest of the time he waited quietly in the vehicle.
Siobhan's house was illuminated with warm lights, and from afar she was seen busy in the kitchen. Not long after, came the slight scent of the fried steak. Ethan eagerly inhaled it, then took his cold sandwich and took a big bite out of it.
Ethan yawned and raised his hand to look at his watch. Eleven at night were approaching. The road was still silent, with a truck passing occasionally.
At Siobhan's house, only the room had a few lights on, and from time to time the faint sound of the television was heard. Ethan, focused on the fast music being heard, smiled. Unexpectedly, Siobhan enjoyed that kind of music.
Opening the car door, he looked for a secluded place to urinate. He raised his head and looked around with boredom, until he saw some lonely lights coming from a distance on the road.
At first he paid no attention, but the lights went out quickly and only the dull sound of a motorcycle engine was heard. Ethan felt something was wrong, so he shook his head quickly, zipped up, and grabbed the M4A1 from the passenger side.
Soon, in the cold moonlight, several Harley-Davidson motorcycles slowly approached like ghosts. All drivers wore standard leather jackets and colored headscarves. The leader was the man in glasses who took the initiative to cause trouble in today's celebration.
—Attention, here Ethan, The motorcyclists came to seek revenge against Siobhan. I request support —Ethan said on the radio.
It is common practice for American police officers to ask for support as soon as they encounter gangsters. Although he was confident that he could kill them, he still needed to ask for support, so that they would not think that he had become reckless.
By turning off the radio, the motorcycle gangs were already very close. Ethan did not bother issuing a warning and simply placed the M4A1 on his shoulder. The next moment, fierce tongues of fire sprouted from the barrel of the weapon.
When the shots rang out, the man in glasses leading the formation groaned a few times and several balls of blood mist exploded from his chest, I feel nothing but a bite followed by a feeling of warmth. Then he and his motorcycle fell to the ground.
The sudden attack caused the few people behind to avoid impact. They saw bullets fall like rain, and someone else's head was shot down. They did not expect to be ambushed without prior provocation. These town police officers had been underestimated.
Desperate, the remaining three men got off their bikes, rolled on the ground a few times, and then, stunned, pulled out their pistols to fight back.
However, under the powerful firepower of the M4A1, its accuracy was nil. The bullets flew in erratic directions, due to the pressure exerted by the automatic rifle that attacked them.
As soon as the magazine was emptied, Ethan quickly lowered his mouth from the gun, bent down, and hurriedly retreated behind the F150, to take cover. His truck was not equipped with bulletproof steel plates. Although the power of the bullet would be reduced after penetrating, he did not want to tempt luck and stood behind the tires.
After moving to another position, he took out the empty charger, took a replacement charger, and quickly replaced it.
At the same time, he noticed that the house lights had gone out. He quickly put his fingers to his mouth and made a loud whistle before screaming:
— Siobhan, I'm on the side of the car, watch out for the crossfire! Three sarmad men up front.
After making sure Siobhan was not in danger, Ethan moved quickly and stealthily, taking his M4A1 across the Ford F150. He stopped next to a large tree and hid behind the thick trunk, looking for a better position to face motorcyclists.
As Ethan changed the magazine, the motorcyclists stopped, alerted by the shots. They realized that there were not many people in the ambush and, full of confidence, they began to move looking for the shooter.
The bullets began to hit the Ford F150, making metallic sounds every time one of them hit the vehicle. Ethan felt a pang of concern when he saw the damage to his truck, knowing that the insurance company would probably not cover the damage.
He cautiously poked his head out from behind the tree, watching the chaos unfolding. The motorcyclists had not realized that he had changed positions. On the side of the road, two men were crouched, shooting with their pistols towards the F150. Not far away, another bearded man was hiding behind an overturned motorcycle, preparing something.
Ethan watched the bearded man pull out a glass bottle with a black scarf and light it with a lighter. A Molotov cocktail. Without wasting a second, Ethan raised his M4A1, aimed at the cocktail, and pulled the trigger. A burst of fire illuminated the night when the bottle exploded into the man's hands, raising long-armed shooting skills had proven effective.
The bearded man, now engulfed in flames, gave a heartbreaking scream as he turned into a human torch. His revenge plan had taken a deadly ironic turn.
Compassionate by nature, Ethan looked away as the man squirmed on the ground, consumed by the flames. He couldn't bear to see someone suffer like that, even if he was an enemy.
The remaining two motorcyclists, horrified by the fate of their partner, panicked. One of them dropped his gun and started running in the dark, while the other tried to lift his Harley-Davidson to escape. But before he could, Ethan opened fire again, and the motorcyclist fell to the ground, whispering one last exhalation.
The human torch stopped moving, and the fire continued to burn as the night fell silent again. With the situation apparently under control, Ethan lowered his M4A1 and dropped it on his back. Then he pulled out his Beretta, enjoying the weight of the gun in his hand.
He approached to inspect the area, dodging debris from wrecked motorcycles and corpses scattered on the ground. The smell of burned meat and gasoline made him wrinkle his nose; I knew I couldn't enjoy a barbecue in a long time.
Suddenly, he heard a faint moan. The man in the glasses, who had been shot first, was still alive. He was lying on the floor, panting, his eyes glazed looking at Ethan through the broken glasses.
—You committed murder without notice or identification. I'm going to sue you —murmured with difficulty.
—Well, sorry, I was so excited that I forgot to identify myself. But don't worry, I don't think that will matter now —Ethan replied with a smile.
The man in the glasses was silent, breathing hard, he had seen that face before, he was going to murder him.
At that moment, Siobhan appeared, crossing the road. Her long black hair was loose, still wet, as if she had just come out of the shower. He wore plaid pajamas and a gray tank top, and held a Glock in his hand. His bare feet were dirty, and he limped slightly due to a small cut on the sole of his foot.
— Are you okay? —Siobhan asked, pointing his head at the man in the glasses.
—Yes, I'm not hurt —Ethan confirmed, watching her watch the scene around her with a mixture of horror and gratitude
—. Thank you. If you hadn't been here, I don't know what would have happened.
—It's nothing, you would have done the same for me. —Ethan replied with a smile.
Ethan stepped to the side and saw a Colt M1911 on the floor near the man with the glasses. He kicked it gently towards him.
— What are you doing? —asked the man in glasses, his voice trembling with fear.
—Pick it up, — ordered Ethan coldly.
—No. What do you want to do? Aren't you a policeman? —The man tried to push his hand away from the Colt, terrified.
— Do you see a plate somewhere? —Ethan said, raising his Pietro Beretta —. This is your only chance. Are you sure you don't want it?
The man in glasses cursed furiously, finally giving in to panic. He reached out to pick up the gun, and at that moment, the Beretta's shot rang out in the dead of night.
The faint siren sounds began to fill the air, fast approaching. Ethan calmly put his gun around his waist, this guy would never cause trouble in this town or in any other, these kinds of people would take revenge again whenever you could, and they would take many innocents on their way, not He had to give them that opportunity, he would never leave a danger that he could come back to bite his butt.
Siobhan, meanwhile, slowly lowered the Glock, his hands trembled slightly.
—This is wrong. This was an execution. —murmured, clearly disturbed by what had just happened.
Ethan knew he must have finished with the man before Siobhan returned, but now that he was there, there was no going back. However, before he could say anything, Siobhan looked at him with an unexpected resolution in his eyes.
—Ethan, you don't have to justify anything. I made the decision. I didn't stop you. This bastard came here to kill me and set my house on fire. 
Ethan nodded, lit a cigarette, and pulled out his police badge, placing it on his chest. Then he took off his coat and put it on Siobhan, trying to calm her down a bit.
Just then, a police Chevrolet truck came at full speed, its lights flickering, and its tires screeching as it stopped.
The chaos was not yet over, but with the arrival of reinforcements, the night was filled with new possibilities.