Jason had just been placed on the FBI's most-wanted list with a $3 million bounty. Now, the Department of Justice had raised the stakes, slapping a $10 million price on his head.
$13 million.
That was enough to make every bounty hunter, assassin, and mercenary in New York foam at the mouth. Even low-level thugs with a half-working gun would be looking for a shot at him.
Jason exhaled slowly. He needed to be more cautious.
But everything had its pros and cons.
As the shocking news spread across the United States, Jason's name became legend among criminals, feared by the weak and admired by the reckless.
His reputation skyrocketed.
[Ding! Reputation has reached 100 points. You can now recruit a villainous party member.]
Jason's lips curled into a smirk.
Even the Kingpin didn't operate alone he had an empire of enforcers and assassins. The Joker had Harley Quinn and a whole army of lunatics. And even Red Skull surrounded himself with Hydra fanatics. No matter how strong Jason was, he couldn't survive against the entire city alone.
He opened the system and selected Recruit a Party Member.
[Ding! Villainous comrade "Franklin Clinton" has been activated. Character source: "GTA V." Please locate and recruit him personally.]
Jason's memory flickered. Franklin Clinton… the name sounded familiar, but it had been years.
He vaguely recalled Franklin being one of the protagonists from Grand Theft Auto V a game that had been a cultural phenomenon. But what was his special ability? Something about bullet-time driving? Maybe something useful in a car chase?
Still, Jason had a bigger problem: New York was enormous. How the hell was he supposed to track down a single person?
[Ding! Reminder: Franklin Clinton is a hardcore fan of the host and frequently posts about you on Facebook.]
Jason smirked. That wasn't just a hint that was a roadmap.
Before he was wanted, Jason had a Facebook account filled with pictures of luxury cars, high-end weapons, and supermodels. Even in the world of vigilantes and criminals, money was power and power attracted followers.
Unfortunately, now that he was a wanted man, the FBI was probably watching his account 24/7. Logging in would be suicidal.
So, he created a new account.
After setting up a fake profile, he searched for "Franklin Clinton," filtering by male, New York.
There were over 500 results.
Jason sighed and started clicking through them one by one.
After three hours, his patience paid off.
Franklin's profile picture showed a young Black man with a short buzz cut. His eyes had that look of a street hustler sharp, calculating, but always watching his back.
But what really confirmed it was his feed.
"Jason Walter just wiped out the Russian Mafia. Goddamn legend."
"CNN is full of crap. The great Jason Walter can't be stopped."
"Jason just soloed 20 mobsters! Is he the new Punisher?"
And the most recent post, just 30 minutes ago:
"$10M bounty?! Jason is about to become the next Ben Parker nightmare for the feds."
Jason raised an eyebrow. Ben Parker? Oh. Ben Parker = Uncle Ben = Spider-Man. Franklin thought he'd be a lasting trauma for the government, like Peter's guilt trip.
Jason sent a private message:
"Hey, I'm Jason Walter."
A minute later, Franklin responded.
"Yeah, and I'm your damn dad."
Jason frowned. Kids these days.
"I'm serious. You're a fan, right? We should meet."
"Yeah, yeah. And I should give you my bank account too? Dozens of people pretend to be Jason Walter in my DMs every day. If you're real, prove it."
"You saw the news, right? The feds are on my ass. If I send a photo, I'll be flagged instantly."
"Then why should I trust you?"
"We'll meet in person. Your choice of location. Public, if you want. Starbucks, if it makes you feel safe."
There was a long pause. Franklin was considering it.
Finally, after ten minutes, he replied:
"Fine. 9 PM. Queens. Strip club on XX Street. I'll wait an hour."
"I'll be there."
Jason closed Facebook and checked the time.
Five hours to go.
He took out a fake driver's license from his bag. The name read "Henry Wade", a white male in his thirties.
Jason studied the photo, then went to work with makeup, prosthetics, and hair dye.
Three hours later, his transformation was complete.
Looking in the mirror, Jason was 90% identical to the man in the ID. Even someone like Wilson Fisk (Kingpin) would struggle to recognize him.
He nodded in satisfaction, tucked a loaded Glock into his waistband, and stepped outside.
Jason walked three blocks away before hailing a yellow taxi.
The driver, a middle-aged white man with a Yankees cap, glanced at him through the mirror.
"Where to, buddy?"
"Queens."
"Queens is big. Got an address?"
"Any major shopping mall works."
"Got it."
The cab rolled forward.
Fifteen minutes later, traffic came to a dead stop.
The driver smacked the wheel. "Damn NYPD! Another damn checkpoint."
Jason leaned forward.
Up ahead, police officers were stopping every vehicle.
Manhattan had just suffered multiple bombings and mass shootings. With more than 50 bodies in just a few days, the pressure on the police was insane.
Now, they were pulling out every trick in the book roadblocks, random searches, high-tech surveillance.
For civilians, this was about safety.
For Jason, this was a damn problem.
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