American TV Writer

Just as Castle retrieved the HK-416 with its 100-round drum magazine from his personal space, concealed by the shade of the trees, the voice of the chubby tech guy came through his earpiece: "Uncle Rick, that assassin is speeding up towards your location. He's no more than eighty meters away… seventy meters… Wait, where did you pull out that huge gun from?"

Due to the shade and their focus on the assassin behind Castle, neither the tech guy nor Mozzie, sitting at the drone control station, had noticed Castle's sneaky moves. Now, seeing him holding such an impressive assault rifle, the tech guy couldn't help but voice his surprise.

Castle had no time to explain. He knew that the assassin was already within range to fire. Despite his confidence in his abilities, Castle didn't want to take any chances. Without hesitation, he pressed the detonator in his left hand.

The Gunsmith, who had been rushing toward Castle's back, was suddenly struck by a deafening blast from the nearby bushes, followed by a blinding flash of light. As an experienced assassin, he instantly realized he had walked into a carefully laid trap.

Despite not being known for his combat skills, the Gunsmith's years of experience had honed his reflexes. At the first sound of the flashbang, he instinctively performed evasive maneuvers. However, what he didn't expect was Castle's double-layered trap—after the stun grenade, a high-powered flashbang went off, even more intense than normal. Even in daylight, the flash was so bright that it temporarily blinded him.

Desperate, the Gunsmith threw himself into the nearby bushes, hoping to shield himself and regain his vision as quickly as possible.

But just as he made his move, the unmistakable sound of a long burst from an automatic rifle dashed all his hopes. The rapid, distinct firing pattern told him exactly what he was up against: an HK-416, outfitted with a heavy barrel.

Realizing this, the Gunsmith's heart sank. He knew his chances of leaving Central Park alive had just dropped to zero.

Meanwhile, Beckett was in a frenzy. She had been trailing behind, keeping an eye on the drone footage transmitted by the tech guy. Upon realizing that Castle had lied to her again, heading into Central Park alone, her rage boiled over. Arriving at the park's entrance, she shouted into her phone, demanding the tech guy use Castle's earpiece to order him to stop.

But Castle wasn't listening to anyone now. With the combined skills of John Wick and Jason Bourne, he knew the best approach was relentless pressure. Once the attack started, there was no letting up. The target had to be overwhelmed and given no chance to recover.

Castle, ignoring the tech guy's frantic messages relaying Beckett's orders, continued to fire his HK-416, spraying bullets at the Gunsmith, who was rolling desperately on the ground, still blinded.

Five minutes earlier, the Gunsmith had been full of confidence, but now he was rolling helplessly in the dirt, under a hail of 5.56mm SS109 rounds. Castle's aim wasn't bad, but he was purposefully prolonging the fight, adding psychological pressure. Inside, Castle was seething with rage. If it weren't for the complications of killing Senator William Bracken directly, he would have already put an end to this long-running game.

The Gunsmith, knowing he had no chance of escape, fired blindly in the direction of the gunshots, but it was futile. Castle, safe behind cover, wasn't in any danger.

It was now crystal clear to the Gunsmith that the person hunting him wasn't some helpless writer. This wasn't just a well-planned trap; Castle knew his name, his identity, and even the hidden location of the Brotherhood's New Jersey hideout. Terror gripped the assassin's heart as he realized how thoroughly he had been outmaneuvered.

As Castle closed in, now just ten meters away, the Gunsmith's vision started to return. He thought that if he could just hold out a little longer, he might still stand a chance to kill this man. But just as he began to raise his gun for a desperate counterattack, Castle's cold voice reached him.

"Gunsmith, you really thought you could hide from me? After I finish you off, I'll be visiting Sloan at 17 North Bergen tonight to say hello. Goodbye, dear assassin."

Hearing Castle call him by name, the Gunsmith's heart sank further. This man not only knew who he was but also the exact location of their headquarters. As panic overtook him, he raised his gun to fire, but before he could even pull the trigger, Castle's rifle cut him down, his body collapsing like a ragdoll.

Just as Castle finished off the assassin, Beckett, panting with exertion, arrived on the scene with Esposito and a squad of police officers. They were greeted by the sight of Castle standing over the bullet-riddled body of the Gunsmith, holding the HK-416 with its massive drum magazine. Beckett's fury boiled over. Without hesitation, she rushed forward, grabbed Castle by the ear, and yelled angrily: "Didn't I tell you to wait for police backup? You stubborn idiot! Do you ever listen to anything I say?"

Esposito and the other officers, sensing the tension, discreetly scattered, pretending not to notice Beckett's outburst at her "significant other." Everyone knew it wasn't a good idea to stick around for this kind of drama—who knew if Beckett's wrath would spill over onto them?

Castle, facing the firestorm in Beckett's eyes, tried to play it cool, offering a serious explanation for once: "Honey, this guy isn't like the usual murder suspects you deal with. Just look at the weapons he was carrying. He's not some ordinary criminal. I didn't want to risk you or any of your officers getting hurt, so I decided to take him out first."

He continued, "Besides, you know I had to move quickly to avoid raising suspicion. I had no choice but to get out of the car a little earlier. And as soon as I did, this guy thought it was his moment to strike. Should I have just run away instead of defending myself?"

Beckett, momentarily pausing to think, shifted her attention to the HK-416 in Castle's hands. Even after ten years on the force, she had rarely seen a weapon like the one Castle was holding—complete with a drum magazine designed for battlefield-level suppression fire. It was clear this wasn't standard issue.

"Where the hell did you get that gun? And why the drum magazine?" Beckett demanded, her sharp gaze fixed on him.

Esposito, who had been about to report in, overheard the question and chimed in, amazed: "Castle, I served in the SEALs and never used an HK-416 with a drum like that. Where did you get this thing?"

Castle flashed a grin at Beckett, trying to defuse the situation: "You remember I've got that FN-SCAR in the trunk of my Mercedes, right? That one also uses drum magazines. I just figured a regular 30-round mag might not cut it for a professional assassin, so I came prepared."

Though Castle was trying to smooth things over with a cheeky smile, Beckett wasn't buying it. She remembered all too well how Castle had boasted about receiving training from a retired top assassin. Narrowing her eyes, she shot him a cold glare that said, *You're in big trouble,* before turning her attention back to Esposito for his report.

Castle sighed internally. He knew he wasn't getting off the hook this time.

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