The howling night storm grew increasingly fierce, hurling millions of raindrops that lashed the rooftop surface of the old chemical plant without mercy. At the edge of the cracked, fragile rooftop precipice, Jason lay crumpled and soaked in blood. The senior operative's breathing came ragged, short, and broken. The gunshot wound on his right shoulder had pumped out so much blood that his shirt and tactical jacket were soaked through, blending perfectly with the puddles of rainwater streaming across the concrete floor.

Standing directly before him, the elite hit squad leader—the scar-faced man with the mark over his left temple—regulated his heaving breath. A smirk of triumph etched across the man's face, savoring the final seconds before he delivered the knockout blow that would cast Jason into the abyss of a watery grave.

"Your playtime is over, Agent," the commander growled coldly, clenching his fist tight. "Say hello to your friends in hell!"

The man stepped forward with full force, drawing his right hand back before unleashing a deadly hook punch aimed squarely at Jason's head.

To anyone watching, this was the absolute end. Jason lacked the strength to parry, possessed no remaining ammunition to retaliate, and had zero room to dodge. Yet, for a black-ops operative who had survived hundreds of lethal combat zones, despair wasn't the end—it was merely the prelude to one final, reckless tactic.

Right a fraction of a second before the enemy's fist smashed into his face, Jason's sharp eyes caught a crucial detail hidden within the shadows of the rain-drenched rooftop steel framework.

Directly beneath their combined weight, the roof's primary support beam structure had long since corroded with age and rotted severely from chemical acid vapors venting up from the reactor room below. That concrete load-bearing node was already spiderwebbed with fractures.

This is it, Jason whispered coldly in his mind.

Instead of trying to evade or block the incoming strike, Jason instead channeled every last micro-ounce of explosive power from his leg muscles. He lunged forward abruptly, wrapping his strong left arm tightly around the commander's frame, and pitched their combined weight downward all at once squarely onto the fragile steel framework node!

"What?!" the commander cried out in shock, losing his balance instantly as he was blindsided by the tackle. "Let go of me, you stupid bastard! You want to die with—"

Creak... Crack... BOOM!

The screech of sheared rusted iron and shattering concrete resounded, fracturing the stormy midnight noise. The rooftop load-bearing node collapsed totally in a single terrifying second.

Gravity yanked both their bodies down into a freefall, punching straight through a massive hole in the plant roof, sliding past the second-floor catwalk deck before smashing hard into a mountain of machinery debris on the ground floor of the chemical plant's reactor room.

Crash! Smash!

Cement dust, iron shrapnel, and splashing rainwater blasted into the air from the catastrophic impact.

The hit squad commander landed at the base of the wreckage in the bottom position. The man let out a stifled grunt, coughing up fresh blood before his body slumped completely limp and helpless amidst the piles of scrap iron, defeated by a fatal ten-meter drop.

Yet, where was Jason? Had he plummeted to a watery doom alongside his enemy?

No. In the final heartbeats before their bodies punched through the lower floor, Jason's survival instincts saved him. As the rooftop structure crumbled beneath their boots, Jason's left hand lashed out with reflexive lightning speed, clamping hard onto a stray utility safety steel cable dangling from the corner of the rooftop wall that hadn't entirely collapsed.

Snap!

The steel cable hanger strained violently, bearing the entire dead weight of Jason's body dangling mid-air within the dark shaft of the roof hole, several meters above the lower floor's wreckage.

Jason's chest heaved violently. Every joint in his frame felt pulverized, and his right shoulder throbbed with a blinding agony that felt like it wanted to tear straight out of its socket. Teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, Jason mustered the final strength in his left arm, hoisting his body up slowly before hauling himself back over onto the remaining solid concrete rooftop perimeter lining the structural breach.

He rolled weakly onto the rain-slicked concrete, lying panting with his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Jason! Oh god, Jason!" a muffled cry echoed from the rooftop vent chimney corner.

Leo, who had been hiding and watching the entire spectacular sequence unfold, scrambled clumsily through the lashing storm. The young man dropped his data laptop onto the deck, dropping to his knees beside Jason with violently shaking hands.

"You... you actually brought their boss down..." Leo squeaked in disbelief, his tears mixing with the rain streaming across his face. "But... but your wound is terrible, Jason. The blood won't stop..."

Jason cracked open heavy eyelids, glancing briefly at Leo's face before nodding weakly. His voice was barely audible over the roaring gale. "We're... we're not safe yet, Leo... Stay... stay sharp..."

Leo nodded fast, pressing close to Jason's side to shield the operative from the worsening rain.

All around them, the chemical plant ruins sank into a chilling stillness. Only the patter of the storm and the hiss of a tiny dying fire down in the courtyard broke the midnight silence. The brutal clash against Ouroboros's elite squad had ended in their victory.

Yet, amid the quiet of the wet factory ruins, an unfamiliar sound abruptly snagged Jason's attention.

It wasn't the roar of ground vehicles, nor was it the rumble of thunder.

From the dark skies over the northern harbor sector, the heavy rotor thrum of a chopper began to echo closer, accompanied by a radio frequency code entirely distinct from the Ouroboros syndicate's birds—a slow, rhythmic blade beat that signaled the arrival of someone else who had been observing their fight from afar.

Jason forced his head up, staring sharply into the pitch-black night skies beyond the plant's thin smoke plume, bracing for whatever mystery arrived riding that iron bird at the tail end of tonight's storm.