The sound of the silenced shots that killed the two guards was imdiately followed by a barrage of high-caliber rounds from Falcon 1 and 2, tearing into the warehouse door lock and hinges. The heavy tal door shuddered and gave way with a screech.
"GO! GO! GO!" Jason barked.
They didn’t hesitate. Jason, Falcon 1, and Falcon 2 stord the opening. Inside, the warehouse was cavernous, poorly lit, and held around forty mbers of The Pipers. The air instantly filled with panicked shouts and the frantic rattle of automatic fire as the gang mbers scrambled for cover and returned fire wildly.
Santiago, clutching his new, powerful rifle, stumbled in behind them, his eyes wide with disbelief.
The fight that unfolded was not a ssy gang exchange; it was a devastating military operation.
The three professionals moved with impossible grace. They weren’t just running; they were flowing through the battlefield. They utilized every piece of debris for cover—concrete pillars, tal beams, and even the carcasses of rusted-out cars—as if they could see the future and predict where every wild bullet would land.
From Santiago’s perspective, it was terrifying. He saw muzzle flashes and chaos everywhere, yet Jason and his team were untouchable. They executed complex maneuvers—a sudden lateral jump behind a beam, a low slide under a conveyor belt—before snapping up, firing one precise, controlled burst, and dropping another enemy instantly.
While the Pipers fired hundreds of rounds that harmlessly chewed up the surrounding tal, Falcon 1 and 2 fired only when they had a clean kill shot. Every bullet counted. Heads exploded, chests erupted, and limbs were shattered.
Santiago tried to help. He raised his powerful rifle and aid, but his hands were shaking too violently. He fired a full magazine in the direction of the enemy, and every single round missed, embedding harmlessly into the ceiling.
This was a whole different league. Santiago could only watch in awe and terror as the three n systematically dismantled the gang. Where he saw targets, they saw trajectories. Where he saw confusion, they saw geotry.
Within two minutes, the air was thick with smoke, gunpowder, and the stench of blood. The screaming subsided, replaced by whimpers.
Jason stepped out from behind a stack of barrels, his suit immaculate save for a small splatter of blood on his shoulder. He aid his rifle at the remaining group of Pipers, now huddled together, throwing down their weapons. Only ten or twelve n remained standing.
"We surrender! We surrender!" one cried, hands high.
"Who is your boss?" Jason demanded, his voice echoing in the sudden silence.
"It’s One! He’s—he’s the one lying there!" the man yelled, pointing at a body riddled with two massive, fatal chest wounds.
Jason lowered his rifle but his voice was iron. "From now on, you are under our command. You will obey, or you will die. Santiago," he shouted, turning to his new recruit, "take a photo of every man here. If they try to flee or resist, we will hunt them down and exterminate them."
Santiago imdiately pulled out his cell phone, his hands still trembling, but now operating on pure survival instinct. He quickly began snapping pictures of the terrified survivors.
Jason, without expression or pity, smoothly drew the 9mm pistol from his inner jacket pocket. He walked over to the body of the Pipers’ boss, Uno, who was barely conscious and gurgling blood.
Jason placed the muzzle against the man’s temple. A clean, final shot rang out, executing the execution.
"Let’s move. We need to hit the next location imdiately," Jason ordered, sliding the pistol back into his jacket. "Call your n now and tell them to clean this up. I don’t want the police finding anything substantial."
Santiago finished his last photo, sweat pouring down his face. "No problem, boss! In this zone, the police never enter unless they’re coming for soone specific, but even then, they give days of warning. This area is lawless; nobody will co."
He caught Jason’s hard, cold stare and imdiately corrected himself. "Sorry, boss. Sorry. I’ll have the cleanup crew here imdiately."
Jason didn’t wait for Santiago’s cleanup crew. He, along with Falcon 1 and 2, was already back in the Escalade, driving hard towards the next target. Santiago, still shaken but now fiercely obedient, rode shotgun, pointing the way.
"The next ones are ’The Outlaws’," Santiago explained, his voice hushed. "They’re bigger, smarter, and more spread out. They use an old biker bar near the docks as their headquarters. They’ll be ready for a fight."
They arrived at "The Rusty Anchor," a grimy, windowless biker bar whose parking lot was filled with heavy motorcycles and a few beat-up cars.
Jason slowed the Escalade as they approached. "Change of tactics. They’ll have hardened cover. Falcon 1, you have the roof. Falcon 2, main entrance. Santiago, you provide cover from the Escalade. Do not fire unless you have a clear shot at soone who is shooting at ."
Jason knew a direct assault was inefficient. He needed speed and overwhelming force.
He jumped out and, without a word, drew a fragntation grenade from his belt. He vaulted over a low wall and moved swiftly toward the side of the bar, Falcon 2 covering the front.
"GRENADE OUT!" Jason roared—the first warning they got.
He smashed a window with the butt of his rifle and tossed the grenade inside. A blinding flash and a deafening, tallic CRUMP followed instantly, tearing apart the interior of the bar and sending glass, wood, and smoke billowing out of the broken windows.
The bar erupted. n spilled out of the main entrance and the newly created hole in the wall, many bleeding, dazed, or screaming from the shrapnel. They imdiately opened fire on Falcon 2, who was positioned perfectly and returned fire with lethal accuracy.
Just as Jason repositioned himself, taking down two fleeing figures with a quick double-tap, his internal comms system chirped—the priority alert. It was Ethan.
Jason, fighting through the smoke and the screams, instinctively reached for the encrypted cell phone in his tactical vest. He knew he shouldn’t answer, but it was the Boss.
"Damn it, not now! I’m in the middle of a danger zone!" were Jason’s internal thoughts as he ran for cover.
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