The roar of helicopter blades was drowned out by a sudden barrage of gunfire erupting outside the factory. Gao’s lieutenant, a seasoned gunman, froze, his ears attuned to the chaos. The shots were uniform, disciplined—not the chaotic cacophony of gangbangers with their mismatched arsenals. Only cops or soldiers could fire with such precision.
Before he could react, the factory’s main gate exploded inward, a panicked thug sprinting inside, his voice shrill. "We’re fucked! Cops everywhere! They’ve got us surrounded!"
"What?!" The workers froze, their hands stalling on the assembly line, panic rippling through the room like wildfire.
Gao’s face went rigid, her mind reeling. This factory was her empire’s heart, guarded by ironclad security. Outsiders were blindfolded, even her own men disoriented on entry to keep the location secret. How the hell had the cops found it?
Then it hit her. "Jason."
Years ago, when Kingpin’s star was rising, he’d sent Jason to negotiate a drug trade alliance. Blindfolded and bound, Jason was driven to the factory—yet somehow, the bastard memorized the route. When Gao tried to intimidate him, he’d calmly recited the exact address, stunning her. Back then, in the honeymoon phase of her partnership with Kingpin, she’d let it slide, even praised his nerve and cunning. A mistake she now cursed, her fists clenching in regret.
That one lapse had brought this disaster to her doorstep.
"Madame, what do we do?" He asked, his voice tight with urgency.
"Don’t panic," Gao snapped, forcing calm. "Get a helicopter to extract me. Arm the workers with everything in the warehouse and send them out to reinforce the perimeter. Release the blind runners too—let them confuse the cops."
"But the place is surrounded," He protested. "Will they even let a chopper get close?"
Gao’s lips curled with grim confidence. "They will. This is a residential zone. If a helicopter crashes, civilians die, and the feds will have their badges. They won’t risk it."
"Got it." The lieutenant bolted to carry out her orders.
Gao leaned on her cane, her face shadowed, as if she’d aged a decade in moments. "Jason," She muttered. "You win this round. But next time..."
---
High above, Jason peered through binoculars from the circling DEA helicopter, surveying the carnage below. It was a massacre. The DEA’s elite task force, armed to the teeth and trained to perfection, tore through Gao’s Chinese mob like a blade through paper. Despite their numbers and home turf, the gang collapsed, their defenses crumbling. In minutes, the SWAT team had breached three lines of resistance, closing in on the factory’s main entrance.
Stan glanced at his watch, grinning. "Five minutes till the Marine choppers arrive. They’ll rappel from the roof, and with our guys hitting from the front, this drug empire’s done for."
Busting the city’s biggest drug operation would guarantee Stan a promotion, maybe even a second star on his shoulder. He was tired of the DEA chief’s chair—time to climb higher. More power meant more ways to back Jason.
"Five minutes," Jason muttered, his brow furrowing. The SWAT team was already dominating. Add Marines dropping from the sky, and Gao’s crew would be begging for mercy. ’No way.’ Gao had to die by his hand, not some grunt’s.
"Stan, get us down there. Now."
"What?" Stan blinked, incredulous. Watching from the chopper was safe, clean. Why dive into the meat grinder?
"I told you," Jason growled. "I’m killing that hag myself."
Stan sighed, remembering Jason’s words. He leaned into the cockpit, signaling the pilot to descend. The helicopter roared, touching down on the factory roof.
Jason leapt out, rifle in hand, with Stan following, clutching a riot shield. "What’re you doing?" Jason asked, eyeing him.
Stan hefted the shield. "Can’t let you get shot up, boss. This’ll keep us covered."
They kicked open the rooftop door, Stan leading with the shield, Jason trailing with his rifle. The air inside reeked of premium cannabis, thick and heady. Stan inhaled deeply, his eyes half-lidded. "Damn, that’s the good stuff."
Jason kicked his shin, snapping him back to focus. "Eyes up."
Stan scanned the corridor, shrugging. "Relax, boss. Gao sent all her goons outside."
As if on cue, gunfire erupted. Bullets slammed into Stan’s shield, the impacts ringing like hammer strikes. "Shit!" He cursed, dropping into a crouch behind it.
Gao wasn’t that stupid. Knowing the cops had air support, she’d left a squad of shooters to guard the rooftop entrance. Her foresight saved her men—but not for long.
Jason motioned for Stan to shift the shield, exposing a small firing port. The shield’s edges were alloy, but its center was high-strength ballistic glass, giving Jason a clear view of the enemy. He slid his rifle barrel through the port, his Firearms Mastery (Level 6) taking over. The goons, spraying wildly, were no match for his precision. It was like a pro CS player slaughtering bots in a LAN café—effortless, almost unfair.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The corridor fell silent, bodies slumped in pools of blood.
[Ding! Eliminated 13 gang members. Gained 1300 Villain Points. Current Progress: 2315/5000]
Stan’s jaw dropped. "Jesus, boss. Your aim’s better than our snipers."
"Quit kissing ass and check if they’re dead," Jason snapped.
Stan crept forward, shield raised, probing the corridor. No shots came. The ambushers were all down.
Jason had been to the factory before and knew its layout. Orienting himself, he led the way to Gao’s office. He kicked the door open, and a hail of bullets greeted them, sparking off Stan’s shield.
Jason didn’t flinch. Peering through the glass, he spotted Gao’s lieutenant, a loyal dog to the end. Three precise shots dropped him, his body crumpling, eyes wide with defiance.
[Ding! Eliminated 1 gang member. Gained 100 Villain Points. Current Progress: 2415/5000]
Gao sat on her leather sofa, unflinching, her face ashen. The sight of her dead lieutenant, blood pooling beneath him, filled her with bitter despair. She stared at Jason, her eyes burning with rage.
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