It was night, time moved slowly. The wind howled, the ghost was still awake. He was calmly sitting, thinking about what to do. The moon was brightly lit. Jack lay down on the bed. Time passed.
A guard came up, knocked on the door, and opened it.
He said, "Jack Mayors, I am Carter and we need to hurry."
Jack said, "Took you long enough."
As they came out of the cell a guard on patrol saw them from a distance, 50 meters maybe.
The guard shouted, "Hey…Where are you going??"
Jack thought, "You gotta be kidding me."
The guard slowly came up. Carter and Jack slowly moved backward calmly. Suddenly, Boom!! The lights went out, the guard shouted through his walkie-talkie. He took his gun and shot. Jack and Carter hurried up fast. As Carter knew the way too well it wasn't a problem. Alarms started blaring. The inmates in the cell started banging the door. They were exposed.
The darkness swallowed the hallway, but the sound of blaring alarms pierced through the silence. Jack's heartbeat quickened as he sprinted down the corridor, following Carter's lead. The prison's layout was a maze, but Carter moved with precision—he'd clearly planned every step of this.
"Keep moving!" Carter hissed, pulling Jack by the arm as they rounded a corner.
The other guard's footsteps echoed behind them, too close for comfort. The dull thud of boots against concrete walls made it clear that reinforcements were coming. The lights flickered for a brief moment, illuminating the chaos—the flashing red lights, the inmates pounding against their cell doors, and the armed guards pouring into the main hallway.
"Where's the extraction?" Jack whispered, glancing over his shoulder as another shot rang out, ricocheting off the walls just inches from his head.
"They're here. But first, we need to get past the north wing," Carter replied, barely breaking stride.
Just ahead, more guards rushed into the corridor, their rifles raised and flashlights cutting through the dimly lit space. Jack and Carter ducked behind a column as bullets peppered the walls around them.
Suddenly, a loud explosion rattled the floor beneath them, shaking the prison to its core. The guards halted for a moment, clearly caught off guard by the sudden blast.
"What the hell—?" Jack muttered.
"That's our signal," Carter smirked, tapping his earpiece. "The ops team has breached."
From the smoke and confusion emerged three operatives, their movements sharp and precise. Dressed in tactical gear, they moved like shadows, flanking the guards and neutralizing them one by one with suppressed gunfire. One of them, a tall figure in a black mask, signaled toward Jack.
"This way!" the masked operative shouted, tossing Jack a gun.
Jack caught it in one swift motion, and without hesitation, he fired a shot at the nearest guard, taking him down. The operatives cleared the way, and Carter and Jack bolted toward the north wing.
But as they reached the exit, the door burst open, and a flood of guards stormed in, guns blazing. The narrow hallway erupted into a firefight, bullets flying in every direction. Jack pressed his back against the wall, breathing heavily.
"How many more of these guys are there?" Jack muttered, peeking around the corner to see the guards closing in.
"Too many," Carter replied. "But we're almost there. Just keep moving!"
With a nod, Jack charged forward, dodging the hail of gunfire. He tackled one of the guards, disarming him in a swift, brutal motion before turning the rifle on the others. The air was thick with smoke and the sound of gunfire, but Jack's focus was razor-sharp—each shot counted, each movement precise.
Suddenly, Jack was knocked off balance as one of the guards slammed into him, sending them both crashing to the ground. They struggled for control, the guard trying to pin Jack down while aiming his gun at his face. But Jack, fueled by a mix of adrenaline and rage, twisted the guard's arm, dislocating his shoulder with a sickening snap.
The guard howled in pain, and Jack didn't waste a second—he grabbed the rifle and slammed the butt of it into the guard's head, knocking him out cold.
"Jack! Move!" Carter shouted from ahead.
Jack rolled to his feet and sprinted toward the exit, just as more operatives joined the fight, providing cover fire. The mysterious figure in black, the leader of the ops team, was an unstoppable force—methodically taking out guards with deadly accuracy, clearing a path for Jack and Carter.
As they reached the final door, Carter kicked it open, revealing a waiting helicopter on the rooftop, its blades already spinning.
"Get in!" the operative leader barked, his voice barely audible over the roar of the chopper.
Jack and Carter didn't hesitate. They sprinted toward the helicopter, but just as Jack reached the door, a bullet grazed his arm. He staggered, but Carter grabbed him, pulling him into the chopper.
"Go! Go!" Carter shouted to the pilot.
The helicopter lifted off just as more guards burst onto the rooftop, firing desperately at the escaping aircraft. Jack slumped back in his seat, clutching his bleeding arm, but his eyes were focused on the prison below as it shrank in the distance.
The mysterious leader removed his mask, revealing a sharp, calculating face. He looked at Jack with a smirk.
"You did good back there, Mayors," he said.
Jack glanced at him, breathing heavily. "Who are you?"
The man didn't answer, just leaned back, the smirk never leaving his face.