The static hiss of the handheld radio lying on the floor of the old ticket booth abruptly shifted into an open frequency channel. The tiny red battery indicator on the unit blinked slowly in the dark, casting a grim shadow across Jason's pale, blood-drained face.

"Jason..." Leo whispered ever so softly, tugging at the edge of Jason’s jacket with shaking fingers. His eyes stared in horror toward the station corridor outside the booth. "Hear that? The sound of their footsteps... they're getting closer from both sides."

Jason gave a small nod. His combat-trained hearing picked up the echo of tactical boots scraping against cement flooring from both the northern and southern ends of the tunnel. They were cornered. Ouroboros syndicate commandos and corrupt police units had completely sealed off the underground perimeter, closing in slowly like a spider weaving its web to finish off its prey.

"They've sealed off the primary extraction route," Jason growled under his breath, wincing against the ache in his freshly bandaged shoulder. "Marcus really made sure we have zero way out."

Suddenly, the speaker on the handheld radio crackled harshly, shattering the midnight silence with a baritone voice Jason knew entirely by heart—a voice that had once taught him how to survive in the ruthless world of espionage.

"Jason. I know you're listening," Commander Marcus’s voice boomed coldly through the radio frequency, sounding utterly calm and unburdened, as if he were simply conducting a routine debriefing at agency headquarters. "There's no point in hiding in that rat hole. This city belongs to us now. Handing over the kid named Leo and the transaction access drive is the only way you don't die in agonizingly slow pain."

Leo held his breath, his face turning deathly pale. "That's... that's him! The voice of the devil!"

Jason stared hard at the radio. His jaw locked so tightly the muscles in his cheek twitched violently. With his free left hand, he snatched the radio, pressed the push-to-talk (PTT) button, and brought it close to his lips.

"You betrayed our agency's oath, Marcus," Jason's voice rumbled coldly, brimming with suppressed fury that scorched his chest. "Every black-ops team under your command went down, and now you're selling off the remnants of your own men to a criminal syndicate just for a title and a stack of cash?"

On the other end, Marcus let out a light, crisp chuckle—a sound sharp enough to cut deep into anyone who had ever respected him.

"This world doesn't run on idealism, Jason. It runs on power and bank account balances," Marcus replied without a shred of remorse. "I gave everything to this agency for thirty years, and what did I get? Early retirement with a bullet in the head? No. The Ouroboros syndicate gave me an offer I couldn't refuse: absolute authority over the national security network. And you... you're just a pebble in my path."

"A pebble that's going to crush your skull," Jason cut in sharply, his eyes burning with cold intent.

"Try your best," Marcus sneered dismissively. "By the way, that emergency extraction access code 'Delta-Seven' you're carrying? Consider it expired. I just locked out all your satellite clearance. You're trapped down in that pit for good, Jason."

Click.

The radio connection severed instantly, leaving behind an ear-splitting hiss of static.

"Jason! He blocked our extraction code!" Leo panicked, his voice verging on a suppressed scream. "If that code is dead, how do we get out of this city? We're completely trapped!"

Jason didn't panic. Amid the storm of desperation, his tactical brain spun ten times faster. He knew Marcus's habits inside out; the old man always left a single blind spot because of his overconfidence in digital systems.

"Don't listen to his bullshit," Jason said firmly, pushing himself up while suppressing the severe agony in his shoulder. "Marcus relies on the agency's computer systems to hunt us down. But he forgot... before the world went entirely digital, we were taught how to get out using the manual routes."

"Manual routes? What do you mean?" Leo asked confusedly, trailing Jason as he stepped out of the ticket booth.

Outside, the sweep of flashlight beams from the north and south flickered against the tunnel walls. The pursuing forces were agonizingly close—hardly fifty meters away now.

"Over here, fast!" Jason ordered, pulling Leo's arm into the deepest shadows behind a shattered concrete platform pillar.

There, concealed behind a pile of crumbling plaster and rusted scrap iron, a small, half-open iron door revealed a vertical, rusted ladder stretching upward into absolute darkness.

"A maintenance ladder..." Leo whispered, staring up into the narrow, dusty shaft. "Where does this go, Jason?"

"This ladder isn't tied into the agency's digital network or the city's security grid," Jason explained rapidly, unholstering his suppressed Glock with his left hand and checking his chamber. "It's an old Cold War utility line. It leads straight out of the city's gut, boring right through the concrete foundations..."

Jason glanced upward, finishing with a chilling edge: "...straight into the heart of the commercial vertical parking complex in District 4."

"But that's above ground! We'll be completely exposed!" Leo protested with ragged breaths as the sound of the hunting squad's combat boots grew deafeningly clear near the platform.

"Underground is our graveyard, Leo. Above ground, we still have a fighting chance," Jason stated firmly. "Climb now! Move!"

Without a second thought, Leo scrambled frantically up the rusted iron rungs, ignoring the choking dust and suffocating stench. Jason followed right behind, ascending one-handed while his right hand clamped tightly over his shoulder wound, which was pulsing wetly with fresh blood once more.

Below them, the syndicate commando sweeplights finally grazed the platform area where they had just been hiding.

"Target not here! They're moving north!" the field commander's voice bellowed down the tunnel.

Yet, before those footsteps could turn back, one of Marcus's men swept his light toward the corner station wall—and caught a trail of fresh blood dripping near the utility ladder's entrance.

"Wait! Blood here! They're heading up the maintenance ladder!" the hitman yelled out loud.

"After them! Don't let them reach the surface!" the commander roared.

The first gunshot thundered, shattering the tunnel's silence, followed by the pounding stampede of dozens of boots sprinting hard toward the maintenance shaft where Jason and Leo were climbing.

"Jason, they know we're going up!" Leo shrieked from midway up the ladder, looking down to where sweeping flashlights and rifle muzzles were tilting straight into their vertical shaft.

Jason looked up. At the pitch-black terminus of the ladder tunnel, a rusted iron vent grate filtered the dim city lights from outside. They were almost at the surface.

"Keep climbing, Leo! Don't stop!" Jason shouted, cocking his weapon downward, ready to welcome the storm of hot lead about to erupt from the base of the ladder.