John snapped back to reality—his body trembling, his eyes wet and stinging. The officer came closer, pistol raised. John's mind screamed at him.
Do something. Survive. Escape.
Desperation took over. John lunged, seizing the policeman's wrist with both hands. The gunshot rang out—BANG!—but the bullet spun harmlessly into the air. In one swift motion, John twisted the man's arm, swinging it around his head before forcing the officer's back against his chest. With a crushing grip, he wrenched the wrist until the gun slipped free, clattering to the ground.
The hidden blade snapped out from John's elbow, cold steel grazing the man's throat. His voice was sharp and wild.
"Do anything—and he dies!"
The line of policemen froze. For a heartbeat, silence hung heavy.
Then the hostage himself shouted, jaw set with grim defiance.
"Captain Edward! Shoot without hesitation! May the bullet pierce through me and kill him!"
The white-haired officer roared back from behind cover.
"We're not doing that, idiot! You've got a goddamn family to go back to!"
But another cop—a younger one with fire in his eyes—had already taken aim at John's head. He spoke just loud enough for Edward to hear.
"If I fire precisely enough… I can kill him without hurting anyone."
Edward's hand darted out, shoving the gun barrel down.
"No. He must be captured alive. You got the message, didn't you? Straight to our tablets."
The young officer's face twisted. "That order wasn't from our commander—it came from… someone else. Someone we don't even know!"
Edward's glare hardened. "Our commander told us to follow any order given by that man. Don't you understand?!"
The younger cop hesitated, then let out a bitter sigh. "…Okay."
Meanwhile, John was studying everything—calculating. They can't kill me. That means… I can escape.
He whispered into his hostage's ear, his voice low and broken.
"Listen… I know you think I'm evil. But I'm not. I'm here to save this city. Cyntera Corp will destroy everything. Remember that."
Then, with a swift kick to the man's back, John sent him sprawling to the ground. In the same motion, he snatched the handcuffs and slipped them into his pocket before bolting.
"Grant! Get up and join Tail-1! After him!" Edward barked.
John sprinted down the main street, heart hammering. He knew the open road was a mistake and veered sharply into a narrow alleyway. The walls closed in around him, shadows stretching as he ran. He didn't look back. He couldn't.
But the chase followed him—cars screeched onto the street, sirens wailing, while groups of officers pounded after him on foot. John burst back onto the main road, shoving terrified civilians aside. The roar of engines grew louder.
They're closing in.
In desperation, he activated his Hawk Vision. The world washed white—except for the streams of civilian cars glowing orange.
Useful…
An idea struck. Without hesitation, John darted toward the highway. He sprinted up the hood of a slower car, leaping onto its roof. The driver's head snapped out the window, horrified.
John stared down with cold eyes.
"If you slow down—I'll kill you."
It was a bluff. But the man didn't know that. Terrified, he slammed his foot on the gas, speeding away with John clinging to the roof.
From the pursuing car, Edward cursed under his breath.
"Damn it… he's using civilians now. Not good. We need to stop him." He snatched his radio.
"All units, set up a blockade ahead!"
Within minutes, spikes stretched across the road.
The driver spotted it too late. Screaming, he hit the brakes hard. John was thrown forward, tumbling through the air before slamming against the asphalt. Pain exploded across his body as he skidded, blood smearing across the street.
His vision spun. What…?
The police swarmed, closing in. He tried to rise, knees shaking—but he collapsed again. The world dimmed, and for the first time, John felt the weight of capture looming.
And then—
HOOOONK!
A massive truck barreled through the blockade. Officers dove out of the way. In the chaos, John vanished—gone without a trace.
Edward sprinted forward, scanning the ground. Nothing. No body. No blood trail. Nothing but silence and the lingering roar of the truck's engine fading into the distance.
Rage consumed him. He slammed his fist into the hood of a squad car, voice raw with fury.
"DAMN IT! I'll catch him… next time, I swear I'll catch that bastard!"
But John wasn't gone.
Underneath the truck, his fingers clung to the cold pipes, body trembling from the strain. Only when it stopped at a traffic light did he finally let go, slipping silently onto the pavement. Staggering, battered, and bloodied, he made his way back toward his apartment.
For now—he had escaped.