The air inside the chemical plant's primary reactor room felt suffocating. The pungent stenches of ammonia and residual toxic acid vaporized thickly, mingling with the humid steam billowing from rusted old pipes. Across the slick cement floor, fresh droplets of blood from Jason's shoulder stood out starkly, tracing a crimson trail that slowly blended with puddles of rainwater.

From behind the silhouette of a massive, three-meter-tall chemical cylinder, Jason crouched with a ragged, hunting breath. Cold sweat streamed down his temples, while the gunshot wound in his right shoulder throbbed with excruciating agony every time he flexed his muscles. Up on the second-level iron catwalk, Leo huddled in terror behind a stack of metal crates, clutching the data laptop tight against his chest with both hands shaking violently.

"They've entered the central sector, Jason..." Leo whispered ever so softly through the emergency comms earpiece, his voice nearly drowned out by the roar of the night wind howling through the factory's shattered roof. "I can see two of them moving toward the hallway where you're hiding from the eastern approach."

Jason didn't reply over the comms link. He merely gave a small nod, his eyes locking sharply onto the shadows of two all-black tactical silhouettes stepping slowly forward with cocked assault rifles in hand. The tactical weapon lights mounted beneath their barrels swept the floor back and forth, reflecting off the surfaces of rusted chemical drums lining the corridor.

"Command, this is Alpha Team. Reactor sector visually clear, but we're tracking elevated thermal signatures and fresh blood trails near the drainage trench," one hitman's raspy voice crackled sharply over their handheld radio. "The target has to be around here. Break formation, check every blind spot!"

The two mercenaries advanced in coordinated steps. They were elite Hunter Squad members—heavily built mercenary operatives encased in thick ballistic vests with lightning-fast reflexes.

Jason knew he couldn't hide indefinitely. His severely wounded physical state meant time heavily favored the enemy. The moment one of them stepped past the stack of chemical drums at the corridor bend, Jason sprang straight out of concealment.

"Give it up, Agent!" the first hitman snapped in shock as Jason lunged toward him.

Crash!

Jason wasted zero time on words. With his strong left arm, he smashed the butt of his scavenged assault rifle squarely into the hitman's jaw. The bulky man staggered backward, his tactical helmet knocking askew from the brutal impact.

Yet, his teammate moved faster than anticipated.

"Die, you son of a bitch!" the second hitman roared, instantly leveling his assault rifle and hosing blind lead straight toward Jason.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Jason, watch out!" Leo shrieked hysterically from the upper level, watching rounds chew into the cement wall and shatter plastic barrels around Jason, splashing toxic acid droplets into the air.

Jason dove and rolled sideways, dodging the hot lead storm with agonizing effort. He brought up his Glock with his left hand, trying to return fire amid the suffocating crossfire.

Cough! Cough!

Jason loosed two rounds, but the bullets merely flattened harmlessly against the hitman's thick ballistic vest without inflicting any meaningful damage. The mercenary grinned coldly, stalking forward while continuously laying down suppressive fire, forcing Jason back toward the rim of an open, massive chemical waste drainage pit in the center of the factory floor.

"End of the line, old timer!" the hitman snarled, swinging his rifle butt with full force straight at Jason's chest.

The impact slammed squarely into Jason's ribs, knocking the wind out of him momentarily. Simultaneously, the hitman's right hand clamped onto Jason's pistol-wielding wrist. A brief, brutal struggle erupted right on the lip of the acid disposal pit.

"Let go!" Jason growled, throwing every ounce of remaining strength in his left arm into a punch toward the enemy's face.

Yet, driven by the sheer force of the shove and the chemical-slick factory floor, Jason's grip slipped. The primary Glock in his fist wrenched free, tumbling through the air before plunging straight down into the boiling pool of acidic chemical waste.

Sissst!

Within seconds, the pistol submerged and melted completely within the heavy acid bath, leaving behind a plume of toxic white smoke that scorched the nostrils.

"Your gun is gone, Agent! Now it's your life!" roared the first hitman Jason had struck earlier, now back on his feet and charging forward with a massive combat knife in his right hand, joining his comrade to swarm Jason.

Jason now stood unarmed, his right shoulder severely wounded and bleeding freely. Two massive mercenary brawlers blocked his only exit from the reactor room. The atmosphere inside the factory felt crushing; death hovered a mere millimeter from Jason's face.

"Drop your hands and crawl for mercy, and we'll make your death painless," sneered the first hitman, twirling the combat knife in his hand with a threatening flourish.

Jason didn't reply. His face remained ice-cold, devoid of a shred of fear. Instead of surrendering, he slowly dropped his knees, sinking into a combat stance balanced on his single left arm while letting his right arm hang uselessly to manage the searing pain. Between his tightly clenched teeth, a small tactical folding combat knife slid out, gripped tight by his left hand.

"You guys misunderstood the definition of 'unarmed' in my dictionary," Jason whispered coldly.

"Arrogant bastard!" the second hitman cursed, leaping forward simultaneously with his partner, slashing their combat knives to carve Jason to pieces in a single lethal strike.

A brutal, merciless, blood-soaked close-quarters brawl erupted across the slick factory floor.

The first hitman lunged with a blind thrust aimed straight for the solar plexus. Jason tilted his frame with millimeter precision, letting the blade graze his tactical jacket before driving his elbow straight into the hitman's temple. The sickening crunch of bone rang loud. The bulky man staggered, but before he could collapse, Jason spun fast, vaulting upward to drive his left-hand combat knife straight into the enemy's shoulder.

"Ugh!" the hitman choked out, crashing bloodied onto the cement floor.

One down. One to go.

The second hitman, watching his partner go down in seconds, roared in fury. He charged wildly, grabbing Jason by the jacket collar and shoving the operative's frame hard against a rusted metal drum wall.

Crash!

Agony detonated across Jason's spine, tearing his shoulder wound wide open and sending a scorching wave of fire through every nerve in his body. Fresh crimson pumped harder, soaking his black shirt through.

The hitman raised his right hand high, preparing to bury his commando knife straight into Jason's throat.

"Die with your secrets, you damn agent!" the hitman screamed in triumph.

Yet, at the absolute edge of consciousness and running on his final reserves, Jason didn't lose his head. With a lightning-fast feint, instead of trying to block the blade, Jason used his left foot to sweep hard against the enemy's ankle planted on the slick, chemical-filmed puddle.

Bam!

The hitman lost his footing entirely. His heavy frame slammed hard backward, his head cracking against the sharp corner of an iron pipe stack on the floor with a terrifying fracture pop. The man spasmed briefly before slumping completely limp, sliding into unconsciousness in a pool of water turning crimson with his own blood.

The reactor room abruptly fell deathly still, leaving only Jason's heavy, ragged breathing and a light cough spitting a trace of blood from the rib blow earlier. Jason stood swaying, staring down at his two incapacitated enemies on the floor.

"Jason! You did it!" Leo cried out with a voice full of relief from the upper catwalk, scrambling down the iron stairs to rush to his protector's side. "You took them both down without a firearm!"

Jason drew a long breath, eyes closed for a beat to steady his hammering heart. "Don't celebrate yet, Leo... This fight isn't—"

Jason's sentence cut off instantly.

The heavy, unhurried, commanding sound of footfalls suddenly clattered from the dark factory corridor. Those footsteps were accompanied by the mechanical rack of a long-barreled rifle—a sound painfully familiar and terrifying to Jason's ears.

Jason and Leo snapped their heads simultaneously toward the source of the sound.

Out from behind the shadows of the chemical-fumed factory corridor, a sharply suited man carrying a carbine assault rifle stepped calmly into view. The old man's face looked cold, expressionless, framed by a horrifying, thin smirk.

It was Commander Marcus.

Marcus halted ten meters from where Jason stood. Without a moment's hesitation, he raised his rifle barrel, locking the weapon's muzzle dead between Jason's eyes—dangling execution over the head of an operative who now stood completely unarmed, grievously wounded, and entirely out of ammunition.

"What a magnificent magic show, Jason," Marcus's voice echoed cold and calm within the silent factory reactor room, piercing the thickening night silence. "Too bad... the show has to end right here."