The scene before Jason's eyes flashed, his body suddenly felt weightless, and the world spun around him.
By the time he steadied himself and focused his eyes, the three of them were in an unknown patch of sky, a turbulent river surging below their feet.
BOOM!
A massive explosion. A huge fireball erupted from the dense forest not far away.
Saved! Jason let out a sigh of relief, his whole body going slack. Only his heart continued to pound violently in his chest.
These thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant. The next second, all three of them were plummeting toward the river below.
"AHHHHH!!!" The wind blinded Harley's eyes, and the intense feeling of weightlessness filled her with terror, making her scream in panic.
Jason quickly shouted to reassure her, "Don't be afraid! I'll fly us out of here!"
With that, the energy inside Jason's body surged, gathering at his feet before erupting outwards as jets of wind.
Their descent immediately halted. Holding onto the other two, Jason began to ascend.
But Harley was so terrified that she squeezed her eyes shut and subconsciously used her power again.
The scene before Jason's eyes spun once more, and he was hit with another wave of vertigo.
Before he could even react, he felt his head slam into something solid. He heard the sound of cracking stone.
When his vision cleared, Jason found himself in someone's living room. A family of three was in the middle of eating dinner.
The family of three stared with their mouths wide open, chewing frozen mid-bite, as they watched the scene unfold in astonishment. One moment they were having a nice dinner, and the next, their floor was smashed open by something hard, and a man pulling another man and a woman flew up through the hole.
It was a scene they would likely never forget for the rest of their lives.
"Good evening, folks!" Jason said with an awkward wave, squeezing Harley's hand.
Standing on the living room floor, Harley finally came to her senses. With a thought, she teleported them away again.
This time, she didn't screw up, teleporting them to a nearby forest.
Jason let go of them and floated back into the air, gazing at the massive fireball in the distance. Two long white trails were starkly visible against the black night sky—the paths the missiles had carved through the air.
Holding his breath and concentrating, Jason could faintly make out a helicopter heading toward the crash site.
S.H.I.E.L.D.!
Jason's eyes narrowed, and his fists clenched tightly.
If David hadn't warned him, if Harley hadn't by sheer chance chosen teleportation as her power... the three of them would have undoubtedly died tonight.
The thought made Jason's blood boil. Calm down! Stay calm!
He took several deep breaths, forcing down his rage.
Emotionally, he wanted nothing more than to fly over there right now and slaughter every last one of those S.H.I.E.L.D. bastards.
But logic told him that confronting S.H.I.E.L.D. right now would be an incredibly stupid move.
S.H.I.E.L.D. had come prepared. Those two missiles were probably just their Plan A. If the missiles failed to kill him, or if anything else went wrong, they would undoubtedly have a Plan B, and a Plan C. Besides, S.H.I.E.L.D. knew about his energy absorption power. For them to make a move tonight, they must have found a weapon or method to counter it. Attacking rashly now would be suicide.
After a long moment of consideration, Jason's anger slowly subsided.
He slowly descended to the ground, his face grim, and told Harley to teleport them home.
He would one day get his revenge for what happened tonight.
.......
New York DEA Headquarters.
It was nearly ten o'clock at night, but Stan was still in his office, working diligently.
Since he had already decided to resign, he had to get things in order before he left, to pave the way for his trusted subordinates. For one, these men had been with him for years; he'd grown attached to them. He couldn't take them with him, but he could at least make sure they'd be set for life. For another, having his men in control of the DEA would be nothing but beneficial to the Joker Organization.
For these two reasons, Stan, who normally clocked in and out like clockwork, had started putting in rare, voluntary overtime. Of course, this change didn't seem strange to anyone else. Receiving the Medal of Honor meant his career path was wide open. Unless Stan planned to just coast until retirement, any remotely ambitious person would seize this opportunity and claw their way up the ladder.
Knock, knock, knock.
Without looking up from his work, Stan called out, "Come in!"
Creeak. The door opened and one of his trusted men entered, leaning in to whisper, "There are two guys outside to see you. They say they're from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. They've got a spec-ops team with them."
Stan put down his pen, his brow furrowing slightly. It's this late. What could S.H.I.E.L.D. want with me? If this is about the job, why not come during office hours?
After a moment of fruitless thought, he put his files away, straightened his posture, and said, "Show them in."
His subordinate nodded and quickly left. A moment later, Nick Fury and Coulson walked into the office.
Stan sized them up with a blank expression, but his mind was racing. He'd met the balding, middle-aged white guy, Coulson, once before. He was the one who'd personally delivered Stan's job offer. But who was the cocky-looking bald black guy next to him?
Coulson dismissed Stan's man and closed the door, leaving the three of them alone in the spacious office.
"This is the Director of the DEA, Norman Stansfield," Coulson said, stepping forward. "And the man beside me is the Director of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, Mr. Nick Fury."
Stan put on a smile and stepped forward to shake both their hands.
After they sat down on the sofa, Stan asked, "Director Fury, for you to come see me this late, it must be something urgent?"
Nick Fury's grim face was set like stone as he stared intently at Stan with his one good eye.
"It's truly unbelievable," Fury began. "The first non-active duty soldier in American history to receive the Medal of Honor is secretly a corrupt, bribe-taking drug addict."
Hearing this, a look of utter shock appeared on Stan's face. And yet, if you were to check his pulse at that moment, you would find his heart rate was perfectly steady.
Jason had talked S.H.I.E.L.D. up so much that Stan was already mentally prepared for this. An agency that powerful could undoubtedly dig up dirt on him with ease.
Stan's face became a mask of serious indignation. "What kind of joke are you playing at? I am the Director of the DEA! How could I possibly be involved in something like that!"
Fury didn't say a word. He simply reached into his trench coat, pulled out several photos, and tossed them onto the coffee table.
Stan picked up the photos, his expression souring as he glanced at them. A few showed him getting high. The others showed him embezzling assets seized by the DEA and selling them to out-of-town gangs.
Stan's face turned black. He ripped the photos to shreds. "It seems you're not here on official business. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
Fury leaned back on the sofa and sneered, "I have copies. I suggest you start explaining yourself before the Justice Department files charges."
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You can read advance chapters and view R-18 images of the characters on pat reon page.
pat reon.com/GreenBlue17
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