The special ops team, armed with shields and automatic rifles, laid down ferocious fire. The organization members guarding the factory were no match for them.

In just one minute, over half of the hundreds of members were dead or injured, forcing them to retreat inside the factory to mount a defense and counterattack.

“Quick! Bring out the weapons!”

Several guards rushed to the utility room, moved aside the casually piled clutter, and revealed dozens of silvery-white aluminum alloy cases.

To avoid exposing their identities and causing trouble, the outer members were only equipped with pistols, but inside the factory, a considerable stash of weapons was stored for emergencies.

These aluminum alloy weapon cases contained automatic rifles, light and heavy machine guns, sniper rifles, rockets, grenades, and other weapons.

Blonsky and his team had severely underestimated the Joker organization.

As the world’s largest terrorist organization, how could they rely solely on pistols to conquer the world?

The organization’s security manual stipulated that even the most ordinary outpost must store at least ten weapon cases, and accessories must be regularly maintained and replaced.

Weapons were quickly distributed, and the organization members’ counterattack began.

Rat-tat-tat!!!

Boom!!!

Gunfire and explosions rang out incessantly.

Those who knew better knew this was New York; those who didn’t would have thought it was some war-torn country in the Middle East.

With the absolute advantage in weaponry, the special ops team’s six-man squad formations were directly shattered.

They were forced to leave their teammates’ bodies behind and run for cover.

But the guards, filled with pent-up rage, weren’t about to let them go. A dense hail of bullets and rockets shot out, intending to wipe them out along with their cover.

The battle situation had reversed 180 degrees; the Joker organization had gained the absolute upper hand.

Just as the special ops members were about to despair, their captain, Blonsky, stepped up.

Holding a shield in one hand and a gun in the other, he sprinted across the battlefield with superhuman agility.

Because of his speed and erratic movements, the guards’ weapons couldn’t hit him at all, while his sudden counter-fire struck with deadly precision.

The guards were extremely annoyed by him but had no solution, only able to curse a few times to vent their frustration.

Just then, Jason slowly walked up from the basement.

“Boss!”

Seeing the leader appear, all members were invigorated, greeting him with fanatical eyes.

With his ears filled with chaotic gunfire, Jason picked his ear and waved his hand in dissatisfaction.

Understanding his meaning, the guards immediately shouted for their companions to stop firing.

The ceaseless gunfire suddenly stopped.

Blonsky, hiding behind cover, peeked out slightly.

He saw the bullet-riddled factory gate slowly open, and a tall man walked out at a leisurely pace.

Blonsky’s pupils dilated, and the muscles in his entire face went rigid.

It was actually him!

Jason walked out of the factory, looking out over the field strewn with corpses.

There were special ops members, and there were organization members.

Yet even with so many subordinates dead, his face remained devoid of any expression.

He didn’t speak, nor did he act.

Just standing there made Blonsky and the remaining special ops members panic.

They wore expressions of bitter despair, mentally cursing every female in the Blonsky family.

If not for his recklessness, how would we have run into this grim reaper!

Unlike the despair and helplessness of his team, Blonsky felt some fear, but mostly excitement and eagerness to face a strong enemy.

He had been in the military for twenty years, experienced many wars, and been baptized by death and blood.

But not only did he not suffer from PTSD, he even fell in love with this life of bullets and rain.

The stronger the enemy, the more difficult the mission, the more it aroused his fighting spirit.

Even knowing the next second could be death, he would not fear or retreat.

Looking at Jason’s arrogant gaze, Blonsky’s face turned ferocious, feeling incredibly pissed off.

Fear mixed with excitement made his fingers tremble slightly, and his breathing became rapid.

Blonsky quickly adjusted his mindset, staring at Jason with intense battle intent.

Whoosh!

He quickly left cover, then gripped his rifle tightly and fired at Jason.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Several bullets hit his body, falling powerlessly to the ground.

Jason’s eyes shifted, fixing on Blonsky.

This guy seems to be…

Blonsky fired while moving, while Jason stood still like a wooden stake.

“Decent speed, faster than Kingpin.”

Jason analyzed as he watched.

One minute later, Blonsky had emptied three or four magazines and thrown several grenades, but his opponent hadn’t moved an inch.

The gap in strength between the two sides was worlds apart, and the fighting spirit in his heart was gradually doused by cold water.

Although previous missions were fraught with difficulties, as long as there was a glimmer of hope, he would absolutely never give up.

His mental toughness was comparable to a comic book protagonist.

However, reality was far crueler than comics.

First Hulk, then Jason; within just a few days, he had encountered two enemies he absolutely could not defeat.

For Blonsky, this was simply a dimensional strike, directly causing his mental state to collapse.

He fell into confusion once again; the powerlessness of reality and the desire for strength tore his soul apart.

Clatter!

Blonsky threw away his rifle in anger, then clenched his fists and strode forward.

“You are Jason! Do you dare to fight me hand-to-hand?!”

Perhaps out of self-abandonment, or perhaps seeking release, Blonsky actually dared to speak wildly in front of Jason.

Jason didn’t speak, but the contemptuous expression on his face said everything.

Blonsky was furious and swung a fist violently at his face.

A hard sensation came back; the punch felt like hitting a steel plate, the powerful recoil nearly breaking his arm.

Blonsky’s eyes were bloodshot, the expression on his face incredibly angry, and then he roared and launched attacks like a madman.

Every punch and kick used full strength, but the hard energy shield instead left him bloody and bruised all over, finally collapsing weakly to the ground.

“Speed is decent, strength is lacking, overall not as good as Kingpin!”

Jason gave his final evaluation expressionlessly.

With that, he slowly raised his right hand, pointing his index finger at Blonsky’s head, a pale blue energy appearing at the fingertip.

Even after two injections, the gap remained despairingly wide; Blonsky’s heart was completely dead.

He didn’t resist, just stared at Jason with unwilling eyes.

Boom!

With a slight movement of the fingertip, a violent explosion sounded from behind.

Missed?

Blonsky turned his head to look, only to see several special ops members who tried to escape during the chaos blasted into minced meat by the miniature energy ball.

“You… aren’t killing me?”

“Even trash can be useful!” Jason slowly lowered his arm and said contemptuously.

“Tie them all up; they’ll be useful for Dr. Sterns’ experiments.”

“Understood, Boss!”

“Also, this stronghold has been compromised; we must begin moving immediately. I leave the final cleanup to you; leave no clues behind.”

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You can read advance chapters and view R-18 images of the characters on pat reon page.

pat reon.com/GreenBlue17

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep