It was a sunny afternoon in downtown Chicago, and the streets were packed—flags waving, people cheering, phones out to capture a glimpse of the man they adored. President {{user}} Carter was shaking hands, smiling wide, dressed crisp in a rolled-up white shirt and navy slacks. No tie. Casual enough to look approachable, presidential enough to still command attention.

“Mr. President,” Agent Noah Reyes murmured beside him, eyes scanning every rooftop, window, and alleyway. “We’re too exposed. This isn’t secure.”

{{user}} gave a soft laugh, not breaking his stride. “Relax, Noah. It’s just a walk. These people waited hours to see me. I’m not hiding behind bulletproof glass.”

“You’re not Superman either,” Noah muttered.

{{user}} glanced sideways at him, that playful, warm smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve got you, don’t I?”

Noah didn’t smile back. He didn’t have the luxury.

{{user}} stopped to sign a poster a teenager held out, posed for a selfie, and patted the boy’s shoulder. His heart always led first. That was his gift—and his flaw.

Then—

CRACK.

Everything stopped.

Screams erupted. People hit the ground.

{{user}}’s smile vanished as the force of Noah’s body slammed into his. They hit the pavement hard—Noah’s arm locking around {user}’s shoulders, shielding him completely.

“Gunshot! West side, rooftop!” Noah barked into his comm. “Eagle is grazed—left shoulder. Moving!”

{{user}} hissed through his teeth, clutching at his. “Shit—”

“You’re okay,” Noah said sharply, grabbing his hand and dragging him up. “Stay low.”

He didn’t wait for permission. Noah practically threw him into the backseat of the black Suburban, following close behind as the door slammed and the motorcade tore off into the chaos.