The first punch came fast too fast. Jack ducked just in time, the Syndicate agent’s fist whistling past his ear. His heart pounded, adrenaline surging through his veins. This was no ordinary brawl. He was outnumbered, outgunned, and surrounded by a group of agents who looked like they had been handpicked for the sole purpose of killing people like him.

“Okay, guys,” Jack said, raising his hands as if to surrender. “Let’s not do anything rash. You know, we could just talk this out. Maybe grab some coffee? I hear there’s a great café just down the street…”

One of the agents lunged at him. Jack sidestepped, grabbing the man’s wrist and twisting it sharply. The agent yelped in pain, dropping his weapon. Jack followed up with a swift elbow to the face, sending the man sprawling to the floor.

“Guess not,” Jack muttered.

Another agent came at him, swinging a baton. Jack ducked and weaved, his movements fluid and precise. The baton whooshed through the air, narrowly missing him. Jack countered with a quick jab to the man’s ribs, then spun around and delivered a powerful kick to his chest. The agent staggered back, clutching his ribs, but didn’t go down.

“These guys are tougher than they look,” Jack said to himself, his grin widening. “This might actually be fun.”

The remaining agents didn’t wait for him to finish his quip. They charged at him all at once, a chaotic flurry of fists, feet, and weapons. Jack moved like a whirlwind, his training kicking in as he blocked, dodged, and countered with surgical precision. He ducked under a swing, kicked one agent in the knee, then used the momentum to flip another onto the floor.

“Two down, three to go,” he said, panting slightly.

One of the agents pulled a knife, its blade gleaming in the red glow of the alarm lights. Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, come on. That’s just rude.”

The knife-wielding agent slashed at him, forcing Jack to backpedal. He grabbed a nearby chair and used it to block the attacks, the knife clanging against the metal with each strike. Jack waited for an opening, then swung the chair like a battering ram, knocking the agent off balance. He followed up with a roundhouse kick to the side of the man’s head, sending him crashing into a desk.

“That’s three,” Jack said, wiping sweat from his brow.

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The last two agents circled him warily, clearly realizing he wasn’t the pushover they had expected. One of them, a hulking brute of a man, cracked his knuckles and grinned menacingly.

“Let me guess,” Jack said, pointing at the man. “You’re the muscle. And you—” he pointed at the other agent, a wiry, sharp-eyed woman holding a stun baton “you’re the brains of this little duo.”

The woman smirked. “Something like that.”

Jack barely had time to react before the brute lunged at him, swinging a meaty fist the size of a cinderblock. Jack ducked, but the force of the swing sent a gust of air rushing past his face. He rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding a follow-up strike that left a dent in the floor.

“Okay, big guy,” Jack said, getting to his feet. “Let’s see how tough you really are.”

The brute charged again, but this time Jack was ready. He sidestepped at the last second, tripping the man and sending him crashing into a desk. The brute roared in frustration, flipping the desk over as he got back to his feet.

Meanwhile, the woman with the stun baton darted in, jabbing at Jack with quick, precise strikes. He dodged the first two but felt the sting of electricity as the baton grazed his arm. He winced, his muscles twitching involuntarily.

“Okay, that hurt,” he said, shaking out his arm. “Now it’s personal.”

He feinted to the left, then darted to the right, catching the woman off guard. Grabbing her wrist, he twisted it sharply, forcing her to drop the baton. Before she could recover, he spun her around and shoved her into the brute, who was charging at him again. The two collided in a tangle of limbs, giving Jack just enough time to grab the baton.

“Time to even the odds,” he said, flipping the baton in his hand.

The brute roared and charged again, but Jack ducked low and jabbed the baton into his side. Electricity arced through the man’s body, and he collapsed to the floor with a grunt.

The woman tried to grab Jack from behind, but he twisted free and delivered a swift kick to her stomach. She doubled over, gasping for air, and Jack followed up with a spinning kick that knocked her out cold.

Breathing heavily, Jack surveyed the room. The floor was littered with unconscious Syndicate agents, and the alarm was still blaring. He wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth and smiled.

“Not bad for a rookie,” he said to himself.

“Agent X, what’s your status?” Elena’s voice crackled in his earpiece.

Jack winced. “Uh, status is… under control. Mostly.”

“You set off the alarm, didn’t you?”

“Define ‘set off,’” Jack said, dragging one of the unconscious agents out of the way as he made his way to the mainframe.

“Forget it,” Elena snapped. “Just get the data and get out of there before reinforcements arrive!”

“Already on it,” Jack said, plugging his portable hacking device into the mainframe. As the device began downloading the intel, he couldn’t help but glance at the unconscious agents one more time.

“Not bad at all,” he muttered with a grin.

But deep down, he knew this was just the beginning. The Syndicate wasn’t going to let him get away so easily.

And Jack wouldn’t have it any other way.