Chapter 2 – The Bullet at Midnight (Part 2)
"You two, get in that hole and chase after him. The rest, spread outside and surround the area. He can't have gone far."
Z's voice was cold, precise, and commanding. His subordinates didn't waste a breath. The two nearest men dropped into the dark opening without hesitation, while the others fanned out across the street. Z himself turned and strode out of the ruined bar into the chilled night.
The quiet streets of Oakfire had never seen such tension. The soft drizzle of rain pattered against the cracked asphalt, reflecting the orange glow of streetlights. Z's boots splashed through a shallow puddle as his sharp eyes darted from left to right, scanning every shadow.
'That tunnel definitely links to the sewer system. He couldn't have dug it that deep in just a few years.'
Z's thoughts raced. He knew Jack well—too well. Jack had arrived in Oakfire not long ago, and digging out an entire underground escape route was unrealistic. Which meant the hole had to connect to the city's already existing maze of sewers.
"Where will you emerge, Jack?" he muttered, his voice almost swallowed by the rain.
Meanwhile, the two assassins inside the tunnel were descending slowly, pistols raised, their fingers tight on the triggers. The narrow hole pressed against their shoulders, the damp soil rubbing against their arms as they crawled. The stench of earth mixed with the faint, nauseating odor of sewage drifting up from below.
It was pitch black. Their flashlights had been left off, fearing they would expose themselves.
The lead assassin's breath quickened. His mind screamed at him with every inch forward. Claustrophobic tunnels, no room to dodge, no space to fight—if Jack struck, they would be corpses before they even knew what hit them.
Still, they obeyed their orders. This was their job and Z was their leader so every order he gives was absolute and they simply cannot refuse it.
After what felt like an eternity, the tunnel finally widened into a larger chamber. The thick stench of sewage hit them full force, gagging their throats.
"We found the exit," one whispered, tapping his earpiece.
He crept forward, eyes straining against the black. Slowly, faint shapes began to emerge. A corner. A curve in the wall. And—
'What is that…?'
BANG!
The flash lit up the chamber like lightning. A bullet tore through his skull, spraying blood and brain matter against the damp tunnel wall. His body crumpled instantly, blocking the way.
"Shit—!"
The second assassin's blood turned to ice. He froze, trembling beneath his comrade's corpse. His instincts screamed to retreat, but before he could crawl back—
BANG!BANG!
Two more rounds tore through the body above him, punching clean through into his chest.
"AGHH—!" His scream echoed through the chamber before a final shot silenced him forever.
Outside, Z crouched beside an open manhole, staring into the black abyss below.
"So it does lead to the sewers…" he murmured. His instincts were screaming at him. The sewers were Jack's domain now—his battlefield. Entering them was as good as suicide. Jack would know every path, every turn, and his hunters would be nothing but blind prey.
Z clenched his jaw. Four men already dead. Eight remained.
A voice crackled through his earpiece. "Sir, we've marked all the manholes nearby."
"Stay sharp. Don't get lured in." Z's tone was harsh. He raised his eyes to the night sky. 'Where are you hiding, Jack?'
"Commander, I heard noises near the northern manhole," another voice reported.
"Don't move in. I'll handle it myself."
Z hurried through the rain-slick streets, his coat fluttering behind him. Around the corner, one of his men stood by a manhole cover, crouched and tense.
"It's pitch black, sir, but I heard footsteps," the man whispered.
Z extended a hand. "Your flashlight."
"Yes, sir."
The subordinate pulled a small flashlight from his vest and handed it over. Z clicked it on, lowering the beam into the darkness. The light barely pierced the gloom, but enough to reveal damp walls, glistening streams of filthy water, and nothing more.
'Is he moving deeper…?'
CLICK.
The sound froze him. Not from below—but from behind.
"Don't move."
A gun pressed against Z's head as it got ready to fire, followed by a very cold and menacing voice that would send chills down anyone's spine. However, Z was not everyone.
Z's lips curled into a thin smile. "Quite sneaky, Jack."
"Quiet," Jack's voice cut through the night, cold and sharp. "I won't spare you."
"Really? Then maybe check again."
Z tilted his chin toward the manhole. Jack's eyes flicked down—and widened. From below, Z had already leveled a pistol upward, the barrel aimed squarely at Jack's chest.
The two assassins stared at each other, both with guns trained, both knowing that a single twitch would end the other's life.
"Don't make this harder than it has to be," Z said calmly.
"Why did you take this job, then?" Jack's reply was flat, his voice a blade.
"You know why." Z's eyes narrowed. "Even if you kill me and my men, the Organization will keep sending more. No matter where you run, they'll find you. Ten years from now, twenty—do you really think your body will keep up forever? You're growing old, my friend. WE are growing old. We can't continue to rivall all these new generations."
"I'll wipe them all out before that happens."
Z shook his head with a bitter smile. "Still stubborn as ever." His tone softened, carrying the weight of years. "You made a mistake walking away, Jack. Men like us… We were never meant to have normal lives. We were never meant to escape or find our own paths. Our paths were set in stone the moment we walked into that world."
Jack's silence was telling.
Z's mind flickered with the memory of a woman's face. It stabbed through him like a knife. He swallowed hard and continued, "We were meant to die in this life. You and I both knew it. I respected your choice to take your freedom… but you know it always comes with a price."
"You're dying tonight, Z." Jack's grip tightened on the trigger.
"No," Z replied evenly. "I told you, didn't I? You're rusty... Jack."
The words made Jack's skin prickle. An instinct screamed at him. He dove to the side just as a gunshot cracked the night.
BANG!
Pain seared through his side. A bullet tore across his ribs, blood spraying as he rolled behind cover. His eyes darted upward, scanning rooftops—then he froze.
A figure perched in the distance, scope glinting faintly.
Her.
Jack's teeth clenched. 'She accepted the job too…'
Z's voice drifted from below. "Don't be angry, Jack. I convinced her. She knows, just like I do, that this is mercy. Better to end it now than let them drag you into the dark and break you piece by piece."
Jack's reply was venom. "My fate is mine to decide. Not yours. Not hers." He pressed his bloody hand against his wound, raising his pistol again. "If you want me dead, you'll have to pay with your own life."
Z stood slowly, his face shadowed but his eyes heavy with sorrow.
"You'll never make it easy." His voice was quiet, almost trembling. "But before this ends, you need to hear the truth."
He spoke. Words only Jack could hear.
From the rooftop, the sniper's scope held steady, her finger hovering over the trigger. She saw Jack's face twist—anger, shock, then despair. Tears blurred her vision.
"…He told him," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Oh, Jack… I'm sorry…"
Her finger trembled. She couldn't bring herself to fire.
Jack's fists clenched until his knuckles turned white. "Z… you bastard."
"I tried to hide it, Jack. I truly did. But they found out. You underestimated their hatred for you—how much you cost them when you walked away."
His tone grew heavy. "They'll spare him, Jack. The boy. They just want you gone."
Jack's chest heaved, rage boiling. "Why should I believe you? Why should I believe they won't kill him too?"
"Because I'll make sure he lives. They can't afford to lose me as well. They'll listen."
Silence hung between them.
Jack's pistol lowered. His eyes hardened, his decision absolute. Without hesitation, he tossed the weapon aside. He raised a single finger to his forehead.
"Right here."
Z's eyes widened. The Jack he knew—reckless, cunning, unyielding—was gone. What stood before him was a man who had embraced death, so long as it protected someone else. The shift was so quick he didn't even notice.
No normal human would be able to accept death so quickly. Hell, not even the best of assassins are willingly ready to face it. But, Jack... He was different.
'You've changed, Jack…'
His throat tightened. His hand shook as he lifted his gun. He never wanted this. Never. But if Jack was to fall, it would be by his hand and no one else's. That was the bond they shared—the last honor left between old brothers.
"I promise… I'll protect him. No matter what it takes." His voice cracked. "See you on the other side, friend. I won't be long."
BANG!
The gunshot echoed through the night like a final farewell.