Thick white smoke billowed from the SUV's crushed, mangled hood following the brutal collision with the concrete support pillar. The acrid stench of burned oil and scorched rubber pierced the air instantly, mingling with the shrieking wail of the car alarm slicing through the silence of the night atop the overpass. The slowly deflating airbag left a suffocating, cramped space inside the cabin.

"Ugh... my head..." Leo groaned weakly. The young man opened his eyes with great difficulty, finding himself wedged between the front passenger seat and the collapsed dashboard. His face was deathly pale, covered in beads of cold sweat and shards of glass dust. "Jason... Jason, wake up! We have to get out of here!"

No answer came. Jason slumped lifelessly behind the wheel. The operative's head dipped forward, resting against the steering wheel, which had warped and snapped inward. Fresh blood continued to pump heavily from the gunshot wound in his right shoulder, dripping slowly onto the car carpeting and pooling into a small, dark red puddle.

"Jason! Don't die on me, please!" Leo screamed hysterically, fumbling over Jason's body with violently shaking hands. He slapped Jason's cheek repeatedly. "Wake up, Jason! They're coming! Please, wake up!"

Slowly, Jason's eyelids fluttered. The long-standing ringing in his ears gradually faded, replaced by the wailing car alarm and the distant drone of vehicle engines. The survival instincts embedded deep within his blood for years suddenly forced his motor nerves back to life.

Jason let out a stifled hiss, fighting off the excruciating wave of agony scorching his entire right shoulder and arm as he forced his head up. His face was slick with sweat, his sharp eyes locking onto the spiderweb-cracked windshield.

"I'm... I'm not dead yet, Leo," Jason's voice rasped, catching in his throat. He drew in a deep breath, enduring the pain stabbing straight through to his ribs. "Don't waste time... get out now."

"But your shoulder... the blood won't stop, Jason!" Leo blared, his voice verging on tears as he gripped Jason's blood-soaked jacket sleeve. "We're trapped! They can kill us anytime!"

"Precisely why we have to move before they arrive," Jason cut in firmly.

Disregarding the pain tearing through his muscles, Jason mustered the last remnants of strength in his left hand to shove the deflating airbag aside. He grabbed the jammed driver's side door handle, then kicked it outward with the remaining force of his tactical boot until the door swung wide open with a harsh screech of grinding metal.

"Out, Leo! Crawl to my side, fast!" Jason ordered, grabbing the young man by the jacket collar and hauling him out of the wreckage as tiny sparks began to spit from beneath the engine bay.

The moment they managed to scramble out and plant their feet onto the wet asphalt of the expressway, the roar of motorcycle engines tore through the air once more. From the overpass curve behind them, two black sport bikes hurtled forward at breakneck speed, followed close behind by a black assassin-syndicate cargo van.

"Damn it, they're here!" Leo whimpered, his knees going weak instantly until he nearly collapsed onto the asphalt.

"Stand, Leo!" Jason growled, pulling Leo's weight against his functional left side, while his right arm hung uselessly at his side to shield the blinding agony. "Don't let your feet stop moving!"

From the slowing sport bike, the lead assassin—a burly man in a scuffed black leather jacket—toggled off his helmet, signaling his subordinates while pointing toward Jason and Leo as they limped along the expressway shoulder.

"Targets spotted! Don't let them escape alive! Terminate the agent, and bring me the kid in one piece!" the leader bellowed to the other hitmen.

The attackers wasted no time bailing from their vehicles, unholstering handguns and shoulder-slung assault rifles. They advanced in a synchronized sweep, sowing terror with weapons leveled dead at Jason and Leo's backs.

"Hurry, Jason! They're boxing us in!" Leo panicked, glancing backward to see the muzzles of enemy guns glittering wickedly under the dim streetlamps.

Jason scanned his surroundings through a darkening blur of blood loss. On the expressway's concrete barrier sidewalk, right next to a dead, looming billboard, a massive iron ventilation grate lay flush with the concrete surface—an emergency exhaust shaft leading down to a long-abandoned underground subway tunnel.

"There! That vent grate!" Jason hissed sharply, steering their limping steps toward the edge of the sidewalk.

"But it's bolted shut, Jason! We don't have tools to pry it open!" Leo protested, his breathing ragged.

"We don't need tools to open it," Jason replied coldly.

With his final reserves of strength, Jason heaved his weight and slammed downward alongside Leo squarely on top of the old iron grating. Relying on their combined mass and the brutal strike of his tactical boot heel hammering the rusted locking corner, the iron retaining latch finally snapped with a resounding metallic clang.

Clang! Crash!

The iron grate plunged into the darkness, sending Jason and Leo hurtling downward in a freefall straight into the pitch-black ventilation shaft just as a concentrated volley of assault rifle fire shredded the exact patch of asphalt where they had stood a second prior.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Sparks danced across the concrete surface from the delayed barrage slamming into the ground.

Inside the damp, dust-choked depths of the ventilation tunnel, Jason and Leo tumbled hard onto the cold concrete floor of a silent, forgotten subway station. Their chests heaved wildly, matching the thunderous pounding of adrenaline racing within their ribs.

"We're... we're alive?" Leo whispered shakily, patting his body down frantically to ensure no lead had pierced his flesh.

"Shh..." Jason pressed his index finger to his lips, giving an absolute gesture for Leo to seal his mouth tight.

Above their heads, the heavy creak of mercenary combat boots echoed with crystal clarity across the exposed iron frame of the vent grille. The pursuers had reached the brink of the shaft, sweeping high-intensity tactical flashlights that lanced sharp beams of white light deep into the subterranean gloom.

"They dropped below! Search for tracks!" a hitman's rough voice carried faintly from above.

The flashlight beams crisscrossed erratically, reflecting off aged, moss-draped concrete walls. The cold white light edged slowly closer toward the shadows where Jason and Leo hid behind a concrete station platform pillar.

Jason held his breath tight. He glanced down briefly at his right shoulder; fresh blood still seeped slowly from beneath his jacket, pattering against the concrete floor with tiny droplet taps that, in the absolute midnight silence, sounded like the ticking clock of execution.

The flashlight beam stopped dead a mere few centimeters from a fresh pool of blood on the floor.

Up above, the pursuer's bootsteps halted abruptly, directly overhead. A chilling, suffocating stillness blanketed every corner of the silent underground tunnel, leaving behind a razor-thin tension ready to detonate at any heartbeat.