Chapter 164 Nowhere to Run

Chapter 164 Nowhere to Run
Jason POV

I dodged a pharmaceutical CEO's wild swing, her manicured nails now sharp as claws, and put three rounds center mass. She staggered but kept coming.

"Pilot!" I called out, rolling behind an overturned conference chair as the German biotech mogul charged at me with inhuman speed.

"Working on it!" Pilot's voice was calm despite the chaos. He was methodical, headshots only, each one dropping an enhanced investor. Even facing a dozen enhanced targets, he made it look effortless—truly lived up to his reputation as the second-ranked killer.

But we were still outnumbered. For every enhanced investor we dropped, another seemed to recover and rejoin the fight.

A tech mogul lunged at me from the left. I put him down with a precise headshot, but the oil executive was already flanking me from the right. My magazine clicked empty.

"Reloading!" I shouted, dropping behind the obsidian conference table.

That's when the cavalry arrived.

The reinforced steel doors exploded inward as Muse and Sebastian burst through, assault rifles blazing. Sebastian's tactical gear was pristine despite the obvious battle they'd fought to reach us, while Muse moved with his characteristic calculated efficiency.

"About time!" Pilot called out, putting down another enhanced target. "Thought you boys got lost!"

"Traffic was murder," Sebastian replied dryly, dropping an enhanced investor with a controlled burst. "Literally. Had to clear three floors of Cain's security to get here."

Muse positioned himself near the destroyed entrance, providing covering fire while scanning for additional threats. "Building's secure. Cain's the priority now."

With the additional firepower, we quickly gained the upper hand.

"Jason," Pilot called out between bursts, dropping another enhanced target. "Go after Cain. We can handle this."

I looked around the room. Half the enhanced investors were still moving. "You sure?"

"Go," Sebastian added. "We'll secure the evidence here and make sure none of these poor bastards are still dangerous."

I nodded and sprinted for the emergency stairwell Cain had used. The man was smart—he'd planned his escape route well. But he hadn't counted on our determination to see this through.

I emerged onto the helipad to see Cain approaching a sleek private helicopter, its rotors already spinning. Two security guards flanked the aircraft, their weapons trained on the access points.

I didn't give them time to react.

The first guard went down to a headshot before he could raise his rifle. The second managed to get off a burst, but I was already moving, rolling behind a ventilation unit. His shots sparked off the metal housing as I came up firing.

Two rounds to the center mass dropped him beside his partner.

Cain had almost reached the helicopter when I spotted the RPG-7 mounted on a maintenance cart near the rooftop's edge—probably left by Cain's own security team.

I grabbed the launcher, shouldered it, and aimed at the helicopter's engine compartment.

"Cain!" I shouted over the rotor noise.

He turned, his face showing surprise. Clearly, he'd expected his enhanced army to keep me busy long enough for his escape.

I pulled the trigger.

The rocket-propelled grenade struck the helicopter's engine with a loud explosion. The aircraft lurched sideways, its rotors disintegrating in a shower of metal fragments. The pilot tried to bail out, but the secondary explosion from the fuel tank engulfed the entire aircraft.

Cain stared at the burning wreckage, then slowly turned to face me.

"Nowhere to run now," I said, keeping my rifle trained on him. "Time to answer for what you've done. The deaths in Myanmar, the biological weapons program, destroying the relationship between Round Table and the American government—"

"Relationship?" Cain laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You think Round Table was an innocent victim in all this?"

"What else would they be?"

Cain's face twisted into a sneer. "The project was Round Table's idea from the beginning, you naive federal agent. The virus samples, the experimental protocols, and the research data—all of it came from your enemies' precious organization."

The words hit me like a physical blow. "What?!"

"Professor initiated the entire program," Cain continued, his voice dripping with mockery. "He approached us with the offer to collaborate. Said he needed partners with resources and expertise to make his grand vision a reality. Can't you see? It's precisely because of Professor's deep involvement that Round Table covered up the BF incident."

My finger tightened on the trigger. "What was Professor's real objective?"

Cain spread his hands in a mocking gesture of ignorance. "Who knows what goes on in that madman's head? Nobody's ever been able to figure out his true motivations. Round and round he goes with his grand plans and philosophical speeches, but it always comes down to the same thing: biological weapons. Professor just lacks the courage to admit what he's really building, so he lets people like me serve as the executors of his ambitions."

I stared at him, pieces clicking into place. "So you don't actually know what Professor's real plan is, do you? You're just assuming it's about weapons. I bet weapons development was your idea for world domination, and Professor's research just gave you the chance you'd been waiting for. When you realized he wasn't going the way you wanted, you orchestrated Black Friday to steal the research and do it yourself. That's what really happened, isn't it?"

Cain's mask of contempt slipped, replaced by genuine surprise. Then he began to laugh—a bitter, defeated sound.

"Brilliant!" he said, clapping slowly. "Absolutely brilliant! You really are FSOD's finest, aren't you? Cut right through the layers and found the truth I've been trying to hide even from myself."

"Then surrender," I said. "Help us stop what you've started."

Cain's hand moved to his waist, drawing a slim combat knife. But instead of attacking, he raised it toward his own throat.

"Some secrets die with their keepers," he said.

The gunshot cracked across the rooftop. Cain's knife spun away from his hand, struck by a perfectly placed round. He stumbled backward, clutching his wrist where the bullet had grazed him.

I spun around to see Pilot emerging from the stairwell, his rifle still smoking.

Cain, realizing his suicide attempt had failed, suddenly sprinted toward the edge of the rooftop. But Pilot was faster—he lunged forward and grabbed Cain by the collar, yanking him back from the precipice.

"Not today," Pilot said grimly, forcing Cain to his knees.

I approached them. "Everything under control downstairs?"

"All contained," he reported calmly. "Thought you might need backup."

"How much did you hear?" I asked.

Pilot's expression was grim. "Enough to know we're responsible for Black Friday." He paused, meeting my eyes. "I'm sorry, Jason. I know this isn't what anyone wanted to learn."