The forest was eerily silent as Jason stood in the small clearing, his thoughts racing. He had barely begun to comprehend the changes coursing through his body when the rustling of leaves and snapping of twigs broke the stillness. His enhanced senses flared to life, and he could hear them—the men who had caused the crash, closing in on him. The hunt was still on.
Jason spun around, heart pounding, his instincts urging him to flee again. But it was too late. From the shadows of the trees, figures emerged—dark silhouettes of men in tactical gear, their movements swift and coordinated. Guns trained on him, they advanced quickly, surrounding him.
"Stop right there!" one of them barked, voice cold and commanding.
Jason's eyes widened in panic, his muscles tensing involuntarily. His mind raced as they moved closer. He backed up a few steps, unsure of what to do. One of the men lunged forward, grabbing his arm to restrain him.
Without thinking, Jason reacted. He twisted his body, pushing the man away with what felt like a simple shove.
But the result was anything but simple.
The man flew through the air as if he had been launched by a cannon, crashing into a tree with a bone-rattling impact that left him crumpled on the forest floor. Jason froze in shock, staring at his own hands. He hadn't meant to push that hard. He hadn't meant to throw the man at all.
"What the hell…" Jason whispered, staring in disbelief at the unconscious body.
The others, equally stunned, hesitated for a split second. But only for a split second. Then, they came at him all at once, barking orders and moving with the precision of trained soldiers. Jason's confusion quickly gave way to survival instincts. His body seemed to know what to do, even if his mind hadn't caught up yet.
Another man swung at him with a baton. Jason ducked, his movements smooth and effortless. He countered with a punch, but this time he was more aware of his strength—he pulled back just enough to not send the man flying, though the hit still knocked him unconscious on the spot.
As the others charged, Jason's new strength and reflexes kicked in, guiding him through a flurry of attacks. He blocked and dodged with superhuman agility, striking back with precision. One by one, the soldiers went down—disarmed, incapacitated, and left groaning on the ground. His movements were fluid, instinctual, as if his body had been training for this moment for years.
Just as he was catching his breath, thinking it might be over, the low rumble of engines filled the air. More headlights pierced through the trees, and Jason could see another convoy arriving. A second group of armed men, even larger than the first, emerged from their vehicles. These men were different—heavier gear, more advanced weaponry, and an unmistakable sense of determination in their movements.
Jason clenched his fists. His instincts screamed at him to run, but he knew there was no point. They were coming for him, and this time, there was no holding back.
The first attacker rushed him, and Jason reacted instantly. He ducked under a swinging baton, grabbed the man's arm, and flipped him over his shoulder. The soldier hit the ground hard, his weapon flying from his hand. Another man tried to flank Jason from the side, but Jason spun around and kicked the legs out from under him, sending him sprawling.
The fight became a whirlwind of chaos. Jason moved with blinding speed, taking out one man after another. A gunshot rang out, the bullet whizzing past Jason's ear, but before the shooter could line up a second shot, Jason had closed the distance, disarming him with a single fluid motion.
Two more soldiers charged, their weapons raised. Jason grabbed the first by the wrist, twisting it sharply until the weapon fell, then used the man's momentum to hurl him into the second. They both collapsed in a heap. Another group tried to rush him from the side, but Jason was already there, delivering a series of lightning-fast strikes that left them incapacitated on the forest floor.
His body moved like it had a mind of its own, his reflexes far beyond anything human. The forest around him blurred into a backdrop of dark trees and shifting shadows, his attention solely on disabling the threat before him.
With most of the men down, Jason turned his attention to the vehicles. He couldn't let them use the SUVs to regroup or call for backup. In a single, powerful movement, he leapt toward one of the SUVs, grabbing the front bumper and flipping the entire vehicle onto its side with ease. The metal groaned and crunched as the heavy SUV toppled over, landing in a wreck of twisted metal. Another SUV was quickly dispatched in the same way—Jason slammed his fist into the engine block, disabling it completely.
The few remaining soldiers were now hesitant, backing away slowly, their eyes wide with fear. Jason stood there, breathing heavily, but not from exhaustion. His body was fully charged, ready for more, even though the fight was over.
He surveyed the scene—the scattered bodies of unconscious men, the wrecked vehicles, and the eerie quiet that had settled over the clearing. His mind raced, struggling to process what had just happened. He had taken down two full squads of highly trained soldiers. Alone. Barehanded. And it hadn't even been difficult.
Jason stared down at his hands again, the weight of what he had become sinking in. He wasn't just different. He was something else entirely.
And whatever had been done to him, it had made him a target.