*Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!*
Jason Cross had just stood up in the dimly private room at the Millennium Auction, his sharp eyes darting between the ard n spilling into the building below and the three won who had beco an intrinsic part of his chaotic life, all standing next to him, watching his every movent.
Veronica, Samantha, and Isabella stood together, their faces a mix of confusion and fear. They had no idea what was happening, but from Jason’s reaction, they knew that it was serious. And Jason had told them before to stay close to him no matter what. They would do as he said they should.
In the next mont when they saw Jason turn his head to the door, they also turned and then they heard sothing that chilled them to the depths of their bones.
The sound of footsteps, heavy and deliberate, echoed from the hallways outside too. Those n that were stepping in and shooting everything and causing chaos downstairs were sohow here upstairs with them?
Jason imdiately understood and he frowned. This wasn’t just a heist. It was a multi-pronged attack. One thing happening at the bottom, and another thing happening here at the top. The first target was the pills the second target was probably soone famous, maybe to extort so money out of them.
Jason frowned. This was unexpected, and he hated surprises. His mind raced, calculating the odds and formulating a plan. He looked at the won, his expression softening only slightly just enough to calm their racing hearts.
He needed to ensure that these people at least stayed safe. Turning again to the windows to look and only to see massive gunfights erupting with people running away everywhere, with Troy’s n coming out and then getting gunned down due to how unprepared they were, Jason sighed.
"Stay here," he said, his tone commanding but reassuring. "Lock the door behind and don’t open it for anyone but ," Jason said to them while looking out into the distance, trying to spot sothing he could take advantage of to make a change in the situation. That was what he needed more than anything.
Veronica stepped forward, her blue eyes wide with concern. "Jason, wait… what are you doing? Where are you going?"
Jason placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch firm but gentle. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Trust . I’ll handle this."
The subtle emphasis on "trust" was no accident. He was anchoring her emotions to the word, ensuring she felt a sense of safety in his presence. That with the reassuring touch, ant tha Veronica would trust in Jason, and she would take a step back. As expected, Veronica hesitated but looking into Jason’s eyes, she soon nodded, stepping back as he turned toward the door.
With a swift glance over his shoulder, Jason smirked. "Don’t worry. I’ll be back before you know it."
Before they could protest further, he disappeared into the hallway, leaving the won staring at the closed door, their breaths uneven and hearts pounding.
*Bang! Bang! Bang!*
"Ahh!!" Isabella scread, hearing those gunshots and hiding herself this ti. They had hit the window. Luckily it seed the window was bulletproof. Unluckily, it had frightened them to bits. They hid in the corner, having all but forgotten the fact that Jason had told them to lock the door.
They would soon co to regret this.
Jason moved through the corridors like a predator stalking his prey. The chaos outside was palpable. The clash of gunfire echoed through the building, a cacophony of violence that would rattle most n.
But Jason wasn’t like most n.
He didn’t know why he beca this kind of man, but he thrived in monts like these, where his cunning and resolve could shine. Hearing so footsteps, Jason prepared his heart, and after only another mont, he was ready.
As he rounded a corner, he saw them… a group of ard n heading away from the auction stage and towards his room. Their faces were grim, their movents calculated. Jason’s lips curled into a dark smile.
"Amateurs," he muttered under his breath. But this was an interesting thing… After all, if people were coming towards him, then maybe he or the people in that room were targets… If so, then he could finally get a list of possible suspects.
When they spotted him, their weapons imdiately trained on his chest. Jason raised his hands in mock surrender, his smirk never wavering.
"Gentlen," he began, his voice smooth and disarming, "I think you’ve got the wrong guy."
The hesitation in their eyes was brief but telling. Jason knew it imdiately. They were not allowed to kill him. So he was the target. Heh. They were so easy to read.
Jason moved like lightning, closing the distance between him and the nearest man. He grabbed the assailant, kicking his knee and making him kneel before twisting his neck, which snapped with a *Crack!*
Jason did not waste even another mont, twisting his body to use him as a human shield as the others scread his na out and began firing.
*Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!*
The crack of gunfire filled the air as bullets tore through the man’s body, but Jason remained untouched. With fluid precision, he grabbed the man’s rifle and turned it on the remaining attackers, stepping back to limit the amount of exposure he had. Luckily the man was a big man, and Jason was pretty strong..
Each shot was deliberate, and calculated.
*Bang!* ant one went down. *Bang!* and another one down. One by one, they fell, their bodies collapsing in lifeless heaps. Jason’s smile widened as he surveyed the carnage.
"Not bad for a day’s work," he quipped, wiping a speck of blood from his cheek. He then threw the atshield away, frowning as he figured out what to do next. These people were using the heist as their main mission. So he was the side mission? That was not a good feeling.
Well, since he was being looked down upon, then he would make sure their main mission didn’t go well either. Just because they treated him like so sideshow.
After collecting a rifle and so ammunition, Jason moved through a service entrance, making his way to a secluded vantage point. From there, he had a clear view of the ongoing skirmish. He adjusted his grip on the rifle, steadying it against his shoulder.
"Let’s see how good my aim is," he murmured to himself. But sothing told him not to worry. At that mont, as he wore a suit and stood there in the rafters, he was like a death god overlooking mortal n. He was the one who was going to take them to see their maker.
Reviews
All reviews (0)