[Transition to: The Mansion, Early Morning]
It was just past 7:00 AM. Jason watched the expensive BMW M30 accelerate smoothly down the drive, carrying Ethan away to the MIT campus. He turned to Cassandra, who was already meticulously arranging the meeting files Ethan had requested.
"Cassandra," Jason said, running a hand through his short hair. "I need to make a few calls to secure us a proper vehicle. The BMW is... conspicuous, and itās not designed for the kind of problems we tend to attract."
He stood up, pulling out his secure satellite phone, a device designed to avoid any conventional tracing. He dialed a contact he hadnāt spoken to in over a year. After two rings, an old, gravelly voice answered.
"Hey, old man, you still alive?" Jason asked, a hint of genuine affection mixed with his usual hard edge.
A loud, booming laugh came through the speaker. "If it isnāt Mr. Falcon, the Reaper himself! I thought you were already dead, you crazy bastard!"
"Ha!" Jason scoffed, a rare smile touching his lips. "What makes you think I could die so soon when youāre still kicking, you old dog?"
The old manās tone immediately sharpened, filled with familiar frustration. "Still running from that bastard, Vincent, when you could simply terminate him? I donāt recall training a coward, Falcon. As far as I remember, I trained a hawk!"
Jason let out a heavy sigh. "I know, old man. I know you want me to kill him and stop running, but the moment wasnāt right. But right now...
everything has changed
, and Iām ready for it."
"Well, well, well," the old man replied, a hint of excitement cracking his voice. "So weāre finally going to war? Do you need backup?"
"Thatās exactly why I called you, you crazy old man," Jason admitted.
"Excellent! Iāll grab the weapons and come for you. Tell me where to pick you up!"
"Nonono, wait, hold on," Jason quickly corrected him, a slight panic in his voice. "I donāt mean that. My boss asked me to get an armored SUV. Thatās why I called you, to see if youāre still in the modification business."
There was a moment of stunned silence on the line. "A boss? Your boss died years ago! Who the hell did you suddenly find?"
Jasonās voice was filled with unusual conviction. "I found his son. And trust me, heās more brutal than the father ever was. If you met him, I bet youād really like him."
"Mmm, okay, okay, I hear you," the old man conceded. "Iām still in the business. What kind of vehicle do you want?"
"I need a Suburban or an Escalade, Level 5 armoredāballistic, anti-explosive, reinforced."
"Woah, woah," the old man exclaimed, sounding impressed. "It sounds like youāre serious, kid. What, are you starting a small-scale invasion?"
"Of course, weāre serious," Jason affirmed firmly. "When we start something, we donāt stop. Weāre going to war, so I need some equipment. What do you say? Do you have something for me? The boss gave me the money, so Iām not asking for it free."
"Finally, you get a boss who can pay!" the old man laughed heartily. "I have a beauty. Itās $10 million, ready and armed. Itās a Cadillac Escalade, Level 5+ armor, reinforced chassis, run-flat tires, and an emergency oxygen supply. It has everything you asked for, even cooled compartments for... uh, energy drinks and tactical smokes, haha."
The old man sounded genuinely happy. Jason quickly prepared to finalize the deal.
"Alright, old man. Give me your account number so we can start the paperwork."
"Hold on, I have a better idea," the old man interrupted, his voice suddenly sharp with a new agenda. "Iāll give it to you for free. Tell your boss I want to talk to him. If you say heās worth it, then Iām willing to offer him my services. I havenāt been active in years, and Iām itching to have some fun. That bastard Vincent killed my boys that I sent you; I wonāt let that go unpunished! The son of a bitch will learn the hard way who he messed with. I would have hunted, castrated, and killed him already if you hadnāt stopped me, you jerk."
Jason sighed, apologizing. "Iāll tell the boss, but you donāt need to give it away. He has money."
"I know he has money, I trust you, but itās tradition to give the boss a gift," the old man insisted. "And my work has always been to armor and destroy things with explosives. Iād rather give him a truck than an explosive."
Jason laughed. "Fine, old man. Where are you? Iām at Celestial Garden."
"What the hell are you doing there, you bastard? Theyāll assassinate you as soon as they know itās you!"
"Relax, old man. They donāt know itās me. When everything went down, I wasnāt there; I didnāt attack āhisā people with you guys. Iām not on their radar. But you and the others are. Thatās why I donāt want you or the others bringing it here. Send a kid, if you have one, and preferably, if he wants to work with me, send him with a couple of ātoysā."
"I have two rookies right here. They passed the test, so theyāre ready for combat. Iāll send them with the SUV. Donāt worry," the old man assured him.
"Thanks, old man. Do you have more?" Jason asked, his voice softening with genuine need. "I need trustworthy people, and I donāt trust anyone else but you."
The old man paused, considering. "I do have some boys in Syria, though if I recall correctly, they just moved to the Gaza Strip to assassinate some terrorist leaders. How many do you need for me to call them back?"
"Iād like about 12," Jason replied decisively. "To form a proper annihilation squad."
"Thatās exactly how many I have," the old man said, a grim satisfaction in his voice. "Iāll call the boys back. It should take them one to two weeks to return to the country. Iāll let you know when theyāre back."
"Thanks, old man. I owe you one."
"You owe me several, son," the old man stated, his tone suddenly tender. "Donāt worry me again."
"I understand, old man. Iāll tell the boss to set up a meeting with you," Jason promised before finally ending the call.