Somewhere in Los Angeles, Conklin—who was supposed to have returned to CIA headquarters—was instead inside a hidden room.
"Danny, have you found them?"
On the other end of the line, in CIA Headquarters in Virginia, Conklin's deputy Danny Zorn hesitated while looking at the satellite surveillance feed. "We found them. They're in Nevada..."
The truth was, the CIA's satellite had never malfunctioned. The entire story had been fabricated by Conklin—he simply didn't want CTU tracking down Avril.
Avril carried too many secrets. Neither the CIA nor Conklin himself could allow her to fall into anyone else's hands.
"Activate Falcon. I want everyone related to 'Medusa' gone before the day is over..."
Danny Zorn, a handsome young man with a trace of German blood, hesitated but still asked, "If we mobilize Falcon without authorization, won't Ward be upset?"
"No—if you don't tell him, he won't know. The Medusa Squad was a failed project. They're a ticking time bomb that could explode in the CIA's face at any moment..."
"Yes, sir!"
Danny Zorn had warned Conklin about the risks, but since Conklin had made his decision, Danny could only obey. He typed a series of commands, and with a final tap of the Enter key, the signal was transmitted.
...
Carson City, Nevada.
Inside an ordinary house, Avril and the others lay scattered around, weak and injured.
Avril was lying on a bed, while Alfred and Eddie Castor slumped on sofas. Two men were tending to their wounds.
"Hold still, it's gonna hurt a little..."
"Ughhh..."
One man wearing glasses used tweezers to extract bullets from Alfred's body. Alfred was drenched in sweat, muscles trembling from the pain. Nearby, a curly-haired man was performing the same operation on Castor.
Blood-stained gauze was scattered across the floor.
There was no anesthesia here. Sweat poured from their foreheads as they grimaced in pain but bit down and endured it.
It was lucky they had stolen Rheinmetall's newly developed body armor. No one had expected things to spiral so badly, and their survival was owed entirely to that vest.
Without it, they would've been dead.
Avril herself was drenched in sweat—she had gone through the same hell just a short while earlier.
The two burly men fought hard not to faint. After cleaning the wounds, the glasses-wearing man and the curly-haired man began disinfecting and stitching them up.
"Sorry we couldn't help more..."
The man with glasses apologized as he stitched.
Avril shook her head. "It's not your fault. It was my decision. And you're not combat personnel—you wouldn't have been able to help even if you'd been there..."
These two—Glasses and Curly—had defected with Avril from the Medusa Squad. One was an intelligence analyst; the other was in charge of electronic support.
To Avril, aside from her brother Alfred, the Medusa Squad members were her only family. She would do anything for them.
"All set. Don't move too much. A few days of rest and you'll be fine."
When Glasses finished, Curly was also done. Of all those who had gone out, only three had returned—each wounded. The others were either dead or captured. White Mask had never suffered such devastating losses before.
"Alright, you rest. I'll get some food..."
Glasses threw on a jacket and walked to the door. Just as he opened it—
"Pfft pfft—"
The muted sound of a silenced pistol.
Jason Bourne fired the moment the door opened. His silenced P226 spat flames, and two bullets struck Glasses in the chest. He collapsed instantly.
Jason glanced at the body to confirm the kill, dragged it aside quietly, and slipped inside the house.
Inside, despite being injured, everyone's instincts remained sharp. The moment they heard the "pfft pfft" sound of the silenced gun, they sensed danger.
Jason moved quickly—two steps into the living room—and spotted Curly reaching for a weapon.
"Pfft pfft—"
Two more shots. Curly fell just a meter short of his weapon.
In an instant, two of her people were dead. Avril clenched her teeth, fury burning in her eyes.
Jason Bourne had confirmed two of his targets were eliminated—only one remained: the woman.
Half a day earlier, he had been activated, receiving a dossier with his targets.
Two men, one woman. No survivors. The woman was classified as the highest threat.
Facing the three, Jason had deliberately taken out the two men first. As he aimed at one of the remaining big guys, the man suddenly ducked behind the other, pushing him forward as a shield.
At the edge of death, Eddie Castor did not hesitate. He sacrificed Alfred to buy himself a precious second, using it to leap out the window.
Jason pumped bullets into Alfred's chest. By the time he turned back, Castor was already gone—jumping out the window.
Since Castor wasn't one of his assigned targets, Jason let him go and turned back to finish the job. But Avril was no longer passive—she had gone berserk.
A knife flashed through the air, striking Jason's gun and knocking it from his hand. In the same breath, Avril lunged at him, roaring with rage.
They clashed hand-to-hand, brutal and fast. Every object within reach became a weapon—books, flashlights, even pencils. In seconds, the small house was wrecked.
Jason quickly realized Avril was injured and ruthlessly targeted her wound. A heavy punch landed on her injury, causing her to recoil in pain. He followed with a savage kick to her gut, sending her tumbling backward.
But as she rolled, her hand landed on Curly's discarded gun.
"Bang bang bang—"
Gunfire erupted. Avril unleashed a relentless barrage at Jason Bourne.
Jason reacted instantly—he saw the situation shift, and without hesitation, dove out the same window Castor had used.
Avril rushed to the window but could only see Jason blending into the crowd below—his figure vanishing almost instantly among the people.
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