Chapter 017: Doctor, You Can't Die!
"BOOM!"
After a deafening crash, Mason felt sudden pressure in his head, and the world spun violently. The sounds of shattering glass, metal impacts, a hail of bullets behind him, and the terrified screams of pedestrians blended into chaos.
After a brief moment of deafness, Mason felt warmth trickling down his scalp and wiped his hand—it was covered in blood. He didn't bother checking his injuries but immediately looked at Dr. Erskine lying beside him.
The doctor's face was deathly pale, large beads of sweat streaming down his cheeks, his arms soaked in blood. Worse, a jagged piece of sheet metal was embedded deep in his thigh, completely immobilizing him.
After colliding with the Beetle, the car had lurched forward diagonally for more than thirty feet, knocking over a trash can and a street lamp. Through the shattered window, Mason also saw half of a woman's body crushed beneath the vehicle.
"Doctor, can you move? We need to get out of here right now!"
This wasn't the time for sentiment. Mason glanced outside cautiously, keeping his head down. Four heavily-built men emerged from the cabs, two of them carrying Thompson submachine guns, firing indiscriminately as they advanced.
With that kind of firepower, the wrecked car wouldn't hold long. Mason flattened himself on the seat and extended his leg, kicking the mangled car door repeatedly.
The initial impact had completely warped the door, but fortunately, the second collision had somehow pushed the deformed panel outward. Otherwise, Mason would've only been able to escape through the window.
Under this kind of suppressive fire, that would be suicide.
"Mason, you have to leave—get out of here! Their target is me," Dr. Erskine gasped. "It must be Schmidt's operatives. He believes himself a god incarnate—he'd never allow anyone to possess the same power as him!"
"You must go! The committee has approved our application, and I've prepared the enhancement serum for you. The only remaining step is the injection procedure." He gripped Mason's hand, speaking deliberately.
"Promise me, Mason—uphold your principles, be a good man, and completely eradicate Schmidt's evil!" Dr. Erskine's voice held resolute determination, as if he'd long anticipated this day; there was no fear in his tone.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Mason ignored him, frantically pounding on the car door. "Shut up! I'm getting you out of here! You can't die like this!" What a goddamn joke! If he dies here, my mission is completely fucked!
CRASH!
Mason kicked open the car door and grabbed a .45 pistol the driver had dropped. He had to neutralize the two guys with Tommy guns—otherwise, given the doctor's condition, there was no way they'd escape.
Hearing the door open, the gunfire paused briefly, then a heavy operative with a Thompson opened fire toward the exposed opening.
Mason himself had never handled firearms before and naturally had no marksmanship training. However, the body he possessed was apparently a decent shot. Relying on residual muscle memory and his months of survival experience, Mason had basically mastered his body's shooting capabilities.
Mason poked his head out from the back seat, gripped the pistol with both hands, aimed, and fired. BANG! BANG! BANG! Three rapid shots rang out.
The first shot struck the gunman in the thigh, causing him to pitch forward. Mason's second shot then struck him in the throat, the bullet severing his spine and nearly decapitating him. The Thompson in his hands clattered to the pavement.
The attackers, clearly shocked that someone inside the car could fight back, immediately lost their previous cockiness. They took cover behind nearby vehicles, unleashing suppressive fire, seemingly intent on riddling them with bullets.
"Doctor, give me your jacket." Mason's ammunition was limited; if this continued, they'd both be trapped. He steeled his resolve and decided to rush out and draw the attackers' fire.
"No! Mason, you go! Don't worry about me!" Understanding Mason's intention, the professor adamantly refused. Seeing the gunfire intensifying, Mason had no choice but to grit his teeth and leap out.
After jumping clear, he didn't immediately fire, but instead grabbed a torn-off car door from the ground and used it as a makeshift shield. Two heavy impacts resonated through the metal, and Mason seized the opportunity to crash through the window of a roadside diner.
"Someone's out! Kill him!" Mason heard a shout. He grabbed a nearby table, using his strength to hurl it through the window.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT! The table was shredded by bullets the instant it appeared, reduced to kindling by the time it hit the street. But Mason had already used the distraction to throw two more tables out, and using that cover, he surged forward again.
He had to survive—if Dr. Erskine died now, he was finished.
Mason held the car door shield and ran frantically forward. After emptying his magazine, another heavy operative with a Thompson was cursing while reloading. The other two gunmen, seeing Mason emerge, grinned viciously and aimed their weapons at him.
In that life-or-death moment, Mason's mind was eerily calm. He first fired several shots, forcing one gunman into cover. Then, he swung the car door, hurling it toward the other gunman's position.
At that moment, the closest operative had already slammed a fresh magazine home, adjusting his aim and frantically pulling the trigger toward Mason.
"Haha, die, you son of a bitch!"
The expected carnage didn't happen. Instead, a circular shield had materialized in front of the man. In that brief moment of confusion, a dark gun barrel emerged from behind the shield, roaring and spitting fire.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The operative's body jerked, riddled with bullets, and he collapsed to the pavement with a heavy thud. Mason rolled and took cover behind a nearby Chevrolet.
Huff... huff!
He gasped for breath, his right hand gripping the Thompson trembling. Those few seconds had been pure survival, but fortunately, he'd made it through.
He checked his Thompson—the magazine wasn't full, but if he was careful, it should suffice. A deep gash marked his left shoulder, a bullet lodged in the bone, making it nearly impossible to lift his left arm.
Mason knew he couldn't hesitate—he was wounded, and the longer he delayed, the worse things would get. He gritted his teeth, raised his shield, and crept toward the remaining two gunmen's position.
Using his shield to protect his vitals, Mason charged forward aggressively. One operative, clearly unprepared for this tactic, was cut down in the chaos.
The other, more experienced, realized he couldn't penetrate the shield and targeted Mason's exposed legs. A bullet punched through Mason's calf, and Mason used the momentum to close the distance, using his remaining ammunition to turn his opponent into hamburger.
The two gunshot wounds to his shoulder and leg made Mason dizzy, but he didn't forget the most critical thing. He endured the pain and limped back toward the car.
"Doctor, it's not safe here—I'll get you out!"
Upon reaching the vehicle, Mason looked inside and saw it was empty—Dr. Erskine was nowhere to be found!