"You must have been dosed with an advanced brew of the venom mixture. It should have worn off by now," Myles mused as he followed Jon's lead, walking down the designated paths.
Finally, Jon spotted a secluded trailer nestled in the side of a junkyard and exclaimed, "Here we are!"
Curious, Myles inquired, "Is this where you stay?"
"Take me inside," Jon replied.
After a brief moment of contemplation, Myles reluctantly agreed, recognizing the need for temporary shelter.
With cautious steps, they entered the trailer, feeling the cool and smooth walls. Dim rays of sunlight peeked through the opening of the curtains, casting a gentle glow on the wooden and metallic interior. Myles carefully settled Jon on one of the sofas, hidden from the views of the windows. As he found a comfortable spot, his mind continued to race with thoughts of their daring escape.
"We should be safe here for now," Jon affirmed.
"What exactly was I shot with?" Jon asked, attempting to regain control of his arm.
"It's called a venom shot," Myles explained. "A brew of several compounds designed to bring down even the best of us."
"Its effects wear off after a couple of hours," Myles assured.
Curiosity getting the better of him, Jon inquired, "Who are you? I know who you work with, but I don't think we've met before."
Myles reached for a small clip on the side of his helmet, pushing it down and removing the helmet to reveal his face to Jon. "My name is Myles, Myles Stone. I'm Agent Nitro, and I work with CREED," he revealed.
Jon's intrigue grew as he asked, "How long have you guys been watching me?"
"You've proven quite elusive, I must say," Myles replied. "Our last intel on you was at the warehouse, where we tracked your radiation signature via satellite. Your little anomaly friend gave me a hint about your current location."
"Friend? You mean Mark?" Jon questioned.
"Yeah, your last vigilante mission kinda got him into trouble. Last we spoke he was tied to a pillar." Myles replied.
"Mark... Is he okay?" Jon's concern emerged.
"He's fine now, in good hands," Myles reassured.
"Rest up. Nylar expects us back at HQ soon," Myles stated, placing his helmet on a nearby stool before settling down for a nap.
As time passed and the day turned into evening, the bustling sounds of the city faded into the background, and Myles found solace in the tranquil beauty of the surrounding nature.
Hours ticked by, and the light of day began to fade away. Fatigue started to take its toll on Myles. He knew he couldn't let his guard down, but his body yearned for rest. Drifting into a restless sleep, Myles couldn't help but replay the thrilling events in his mind—the adrenaline-pumping chase, daring maneuvers, and narrow escapes.
Each moment reminded him of the risks he took for the greater good. He was a man on a mission, driven by a sense of justice and a burning desire to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.
When he awoke, the sun had set, painting the sky with shimmering city lights in the distance. Feeling rejuvenated, Myles knew it was time to continue their journey. Although they had evaded capture, he couldn't afford to let his guard down. There were still mysteries to unravel, battles to fight, and a mission to complete.
With determination, Myles quickly rose to his feet, only to realize that Jon was no longer on the couch. Leaving the safety of the trailer, Myles rushed outside in suspicion, his unwavering determination driving him forward.
"Stiles, scan the area and trace the prints he left behind, render it all to my cross-comm, Myles vocalized to his AI assistant.
"On it!" Stiles affirmed.
As the process went on, Myles wandered away as he searched desperately for Jon, disappearing into the horizon as a lone figure on a quest for justice, leaving behind unanswered questions and a legacy of audacious escapes.
He manoeuvred across the walls of a building, steadily scaling through the walls and ascending to the roof, as he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
Meanwhile, a few minutes earlier, Jon, being a tactical and recon agent, had slipped out of the trailer, leaving Myles behind. He made his way onto the dimly lit streets, stepping into the embrace of the city's night, where a new chapter of his journey awaited. The war against the Syndicate had only just begun, and Jon was determined to dismantle their operations for good.
After their earlier escape, Jon knew his cover had been blown and his actions had attracted the attention of powerful enemies. However, he remained resolute in his commitment to carry on.
Jon decided to rendezvous with one of his contacts, a longtime friend named Enzo Pierre. As he navigated the dark alleyways, his adrenaline began to subside, leaving behind a lingering sense of unease. He couldn't shake the feeling that the Syndicate had deeper intentions or that someone else had a vested interest in his activities.
Jon turned into a narrow alley, tucked away from the bustling streets of the city.
High above the city, atop the towering buildings, a figure observed his every move, discreetly shadowing him to avoid detection.
Standing at the center of the alley, Jon paused, a sly smirk spreading across his face, as he uttered, "I know you're there, Myles."
A passing vehicle's headlights briefly illuminated the figure's face, revealing it to be Myles in his Nitro-mech suit. Swiftly descending from the rooftop, his movements agile and predator-like, Myles landed on the concrete floor a few feet away from Jon.
"I have to admit, you're quite good," Myles remarked, his presence commanding.
"Care to explain where we're heading?" Myles inquired, his curiosity piqued.
"We?" Jon questioned, his tone laced with defiance.
"This is none of your business," Jon stated, turning away and continuing on his intended path.
"I don't think you understand what's up ahead. HQ needs your help," Myles retorted, his voice laced with urgency.
Jon paused, his brows furrowing in response. Slowly turning to face Myles, he asked, "What are you talking about?"
"It's Denumbit," Myles revealed, his tone serious.
The words hit Jon like a shockwave, his face etched with disbelief. "No... It can't be," he muttered, lost in his thoughts, contemplating the implications.