The reek of rust, thick dust, and heavy subterranean dampness blanketed the cramped, two-by-two-meter space inside the ticket booth of a long-abandoned underground subway station. Outside, the echoing clatter of combat boots and the low voices of a syndicate hit-squad sergeant drifted faintly down the main platform corridor, tightening a psychological terror that constricted the chest.

Inside the pitch-black ticket booth, illuminated only by the dim, downward-facing beam of a small tactical flashlight set against the floor, Jason sat leaning back against a flaking cement wall. The former operative’s breath came heavy, ragged, and erratic. Cold sweat the size of corn kernels poured down his forehead, while every muscle in his face clenched hard against agonizing waves of pain.

To his right, Leo knelt with violently shaking hands. The young man in his early twenties stared in horror at Jason’s right shoulder. The black shirt and tactical jacket Jason wore had been torn wide open at the shoulder, exposing a gaping gunshot wound where a sniper round had punched straight through flesh. Fresh blood kept bleeding out, soaking Leo’s palms as they smeared with the dark, thick crimson fluid.

"Oh god, Jason... it won't stop bleeding," Leo’s voice shook violently, nearly breaking into a stifled sob. The young man's tears spilled down his cheeks as he watched Jason's skin slowly lose its warmth, turning deathly pale. "Your body temperature is dropping fast. You're... you're losing too much blood."

Jason clenched his left hand so tightly that his knuckles turned white, fighting off the intense dizziness starting to cloud his head. His vision slowly blurred, doubling up in the corners of the dark room. Yet, his professional instincts forced him to keep his eyes wide open.

"Listen to me, Leo..." Jason rasped, his voice catching in his throat, sounding weak yet carrying absolute authority. "Don't... don't panic. If you panic too, we both die here."

"But I don't know how to treat a gunshot wound, Jason!" Leo blurted out desperately, his breathing ragged. "I'm just a data analyst! I'm used to dealing with lines of binary code and encryption, not sniper rounds tearing through human flesh!"

"You're not just a data analyst tonight, Leo," Jason cut in sharply, locking his gaze straight into the young man's eyes with a grip as fierce as a hawk's. "You're my lifeline right now. Grab the tactical folding knife in my left trouser pocket. Fast!"

Leo blinked rapidly, swallowing hard against his dry throat. With fingers still trembling violently, he fumbled into Jason’s pocket and pulled out a sturdy, black-coated multi-use folding knife.

"I... I've got it," Leo squeaked out in sheer terror.

"Good," Jason growled under his breath, hissing softly as a minor shift sent a burning pulse through his shoulder wound. "Now, tear the bottom fabric off your jacket. We need clean cloth to stop this bleeding, or I'll bleed out before we ever make it out of this tunnel."

Without a second thought, Leo ripped the hem of his heavy bomber jacket using his teeth and the folding knife until he had a sufficiently large, coarse cotton strip.

"Here's the cloth! What do I do next?" Leo asked frantically, holding the fabric in front of Jason's chest with wildly shaking hands.

"Listen closely to my instructions," Jason drew a long breath, bracing himself for pain far more brutal than a bullet impact. "The round might have passed clean through, but the wound track needs to be cleared to prevent severe infection. You have to press hard right at the base of the wound with this cloth to seal the torn blood vessels. This is going to hurt like hell... so do it fast."

Leo shook his head fiercely, his face broadcasting absolute refusal. "No, Jason! I can't do it! I'll only make your wound worse!"

"Leo! Do it now!" Jason snapped with his remaining reserves of strength, making the young man jump in severe shock. "Or we'll both end up as chew toys for Marcus's tracking hounds!"

At the mention of Marcus's name, a flash of pure terror mingled with rage crossed Leo's eyes. He drew a deep breath, snapping his eyes shut for a second to gather the courage scattering inside his chest. He knew damn well there were no other options left for them.

"I'm sorry, Jason... This is going to hurt," Leo whispered softly with a choked voice.

With a single decisive motion, Leo folded the torn jacket fabric, pressing its surface hard and square against the gaping gunshot wound on Jason's right shoulder.

Thud!

Arghhh!

Jason let out a stifled grunt, a muffled groan escaping past his clenched teeth. Every muscle in his body locked rigid in an instant. Unbelievable agony—like thousands of hot needles stabbing straight into his shoulder blade—ripped through his nervous system, making his entire body shudder violently against the cold concrete floor.

Cold sweat poured even harder from Jason's temples, while his hand clawed hard into the cement floor until his fingernails nearly snapped off.

"Hold on, Jason... please hold on just a little longer!" Leo screamed hysterically, pressing the wound down harder with both hands now slick with dark crimson blood, desperately trying to stem the flow gushing out.

After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, Jason slowly exhaled a broken, ragged breath. His head dropped back against the wall limply, his chest heaving fast while his body went slack from sheer exhaustion.

"Good..." Jason whispered very faintly, his voice nearly drowned out by his own thumping heartbeat. "Tie... tie that cloth tight around my shoulder and chest so the pressure holds."

With practiced dexterity and absolute care, Leo wrapped the remaining fabric around Jason's chest and shoulder, pulling the knot hard until the binding applied solid pressure to the wound. The heavy bleeding finally began to slow, leaving a widening dark red stain across the front of Jason's shirt.

"Done... I've bound it," Leo panted heavily, wiping sweat and tears from his face with the back of his bloodied hand. He looked down at Jason with deep anxiety. "How do you feel? Does the wound still hurt terribly?"

Jason closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the throbbing pain subside into a steady, burning ache in his shoulder. He opened his eyes again, looking up at the young man with a faint glint of hard-earned respect in his exhausted gaze.

"You did good, Leo," Jason said sincerely, his voice slightly more stable than before. "You saved my life today."

Leo shook his head slowly, offering a bitter smile amid the terrifying backdrop. "We aren't even out of this city yet, Jason. We don't get to die in a shithole like this."

Before Jason could reply, a subtle vibration suddenly hummed inside his tactical jacket pocket.

Bzzzt... bzzzt...

The vibration was faint, but in the dead silence of the ticket booth, it felt glaringly loud and disruptive.

Jason instantly went rigid. He held his breath for a beat, glancing toward his jacket pocket where a burner phone—a specialized emergency burner known only to a tight circle of senior operatives—was stashed away securely.

"Your phone is vibrating, Jason," Leo whispered warily, staring wide-eyed at the jacket pocket. "Is that... is that them?"

Jason didn't answer. With his free left hand, he slowly reached into his pocket and slid out the compact burner phone. The tiny screen flared brightly, casting a sharp bluish-white glow across the dark booth, displaying a brief text message from an unknown number routed through high-level encryption.

Jason stared at the lines of text scrolling across the screen, reading every word with meticulous focus. His brow furrowed deep, while his jaw locked once more against the fury burning in his chest.

Incoming Message (Encrypted Signal):

"You've been betrayed from the inside, Jason. They know your extraction route. Marcus sold our entire black-ops team's data to the Ouroboros syndicate for absolute power within the agency. Trust no one above ground. Seek shelter in the old harbor sector."

Leo, peering over Jason's shoulder to catch the message, sucked in a sharp breath. The young man's face turned deathly pale, overwhelmed by sheer disbelief and deep terror.

"Whose... whose message is that, Jason?" Leo asked with a trembling voice, staring at the phone screen still burning with light. "Can whoever sent this be trusted? Or... or is this just another trap set by Marcus to flush us out?"

Jason stared hard at the phone screen, then killed the power with a single button press, plunging the room back into total darkness.

"I don't know if the sender is an ally or just another enemy looking to cash in on the chaos," Jason replied coldly, his voice a low whisper carrying absolute authority in the dark. He reached for his suppressed Glock, racking the slide to chamber a live round. "But one thing is certain... the intel on Marcus is confirmed. And now, this game of cat-and-mouse has officially turned into a fight to the death."