[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 it's 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 hadn't 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 isn't 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 you're still kicking, you old dog?"

The old man's tone immediately sharpened, filled with familiar frustration. "Still running from that bastard, Vincent, when you could simply terminate him? I don't 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 wasn't right. But right now... everything has changed, and I'm ready for it."

"Well, well, well," the old man replied, a hint of excitement cracking his voice. "So we're finally going to war? Do you need backup?"

"That's exactly why I called you, you crazy old man," Jason admitted.

"Excellent! I'll 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 don't mean that. My boss asked me to get an armored SUV. That's why I called you, to see if you're 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?"

Jason's voice was filled with unusual conviction. "I found his son. And trust me, he's more brutal than the father ever was. If you met him, I bet you'd really like him."

"Mmm, okay, okay, I hear you," the old man conceded. "I'm still in the business. What kind of vehicle do you want?"

"I need a Suburban or an Escalade, Level 5 armored—ballistic, anti-explosive, reinforced."

"Woah, woah," the old man exclaimed, sounding impressed. "It sounds like you're serious, kid. What, are you starting a small-scale invasion?"

"Of course, we're serious," Jason affirmed firmly. "When we start something, we don't stop. We're 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 I'm not asking for it free."

"Finally, you get a boss who can pay!" the old man laughed heartily. "I have a beauty. It's $10 million, ready and armed. It's 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. "I'll give it to you for free. Tell your boss I want to talk to him. If you say he's worth it, then I'm willing to offer him my services. I haven't been active in years, and I'm itching to have some fun. That bastard Vincent killed my boys that I sent you; I won't 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 hadn't stopped me, you jerk."

Jason sighed, apologizing. "I'll tell the boss, but you don't need to give it away. He has money."

"I know he has money, I trust you, but it's tradition to give the boss a gift," the old man insisted. "And my work has always been to armor and destroy things with explosives. I'd rather give him a truck than an explosive."

Jason laughed. "Fine, old man. Where are you? I'm at Celestial Garden."

"What the hell are you doing there, you bastard? They'll assassinate you as soon as they know it's you!"

"Relax, old man. They don't know it's me. When everything went down, I wasn't there; I didn't attack 'his' people with you guys. I'm not on their radar. But you and the others are. That's why I don't 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 'toys'."

"I have two rookies right here. They passed the test, so they're ready for combat. I'll send them with the SUV. Don't 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 don't 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?"

"I'd like about 12," Jason replied decisively. "To form a proper annihilation squad."

"That's exactly how many I have," the old man said, a grim satisfaction in his voice. "I'll call the boys back. It should take them one to two weeks to return to the country. I'll let you know when they're back."

"Thanks, old man. I owe you one."

"You owe me several, son," the old man stated, his tone suddenly tender. "Don't worry me again."

"I understand, old man. I'll tell the boss to set up a meeting with you," Jason promised before finally ending the call.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.