Chapter 65: Chapter 65: The Congressman’s Entourage
Ethan repeated his command, his voice cold and flat: "Let’s get out."
Jason threw the door open with controlled force and stepped out, moving immediately into a defensive posture that placed his broad frame slightly between Ethan and the nearest approaching guards. Ethan followed, exiting the vehicle and standing straight, projecting an air of aristocratic annoyance.
The three charging security contractors were massive, dressed identically in tactical black suits, and bristling with high-end gear. They stopped a few feet away, their assault rifles held loosely but ready.
"Who the hell do you think you are, old man?! You just cut off a Congressional motorcade! Move your damn car, now, before we drag you out!" the Guard Leader shouted aggressively.
Jason stepped forward, his eyes burning with controlled fury. "You nearly hit my principal’s vehicle," Jason stated, his voice devoid of emotion, making the accusation sound like a stone dropping into a well. "You failed your security protocol and endangered a resident."
The Guard Leader sneered, recognizing the car’s mid-tier status. "A resident from House 89? You people know your place! We had the right of way. You look for a fight, old man?"
Just then, the back door of the lead armored SUV opened. Out stepped the Congressman—a portly man with silver hair and a face known for its perpetual look of self-importance. He frowned at the delay, then spotted Ethan and Jason.
"What is the meaning of this delay? Handle this garbage, now! I have a committee meeting in thirty minutes!" said the Congressman, impatiently frowning.
The Guard Leader, emboldened by his employer’s presence, raised his rifle a fraction. "You heard the Boss. Move, now!"
Ethan, seeing his opportunity to establish dominance, didn’t move. He simply looked at the Congressman, his face a mask of disappointment.
"I understand you have an important meeting, Congressman," Ethan said coolly. "But you should address the fact that your team just illegally attempted to damage my property and threaten my employee inside a private, gated community. Your security seems to be under the impression that an elected official’s life is worth more than a citizen’s basic right to safety. That’s a liability, not an asset."
The Congressman blinked, momentarily stunned by Ethan’s directness and the unexpected use of "liability."
The Guard Leader, enraged by Ethan’s calm arrogance and the delay, took one step and slammed his hand hard onto the hood of Ethan’s expensive BMW. "I said MOVE, you little punk! Your daddy’s money doesn’t mean jack here!"
In the blink of an eye, the beast inside Jason was unleashed. His movement was a blur of tactical precision—not a punch, but a defensive counter. As the guard’s hand was resting on the hood, Jason’s left elbow snapped down, hitting the man’s forearm right above the wrist. A sickening, sharp crack echoed across the quiet street.
The guard screamed, a high-pitched sound of pure agony, dropping his rifle onto the asphalt. He immediately clutched his now useless arm, which was bent at an unnatural angle.
The other two guards instantly raised their rifles toward Jason.
"Jason! Stand down!" Ethan commanded, his voice sharp and absolute, not breaking his gaze from the Congressman.
Jason, panting slightly, remained perfectly still, his eyes never leaving the two barrels pointed at his chest.
The Congressman paled. He looked from his screaming guard, to the terrifying calm of the old man, and then to the cool, judging eyes of Ethan. He instantly realized this situation had escalated from a traffic dispute to an actionable assault—and his team had initiated the violence.
"Enough!" The Congressman barked at his remaining men. "Lower your weapons! Get back in the cars!" He turned his fury on his own security detail. "Get this idiot in the car and call a medic! Now!"
He then glared at Ethan, trying to regain the upper hand. "You are going to regret this, young man. This is a private community. You have no right to assault my security personnel."
Ethan offered a predatory smile. "On the contrary, Congressman," Ethan replied coolly. "Your man assaulted my property first. I believe that is called self-defense. And given that my father’s connections—before his unfortunate passing—ran deep in this city, I’d suggest you tell your entire security detail to stay away from House 89. I don’t tolerate threats, and I will sue you out of your career for endangering a minor in a gated community."
The Congressman, knowing the risk of a messy public lawsuit was far greater than a delayed meeting, spat a curse and retreated to his SUV. "Let’s go! Now!"
The motorcade quickly pulled away, leaving the discarded rifle and the wounded guard as a gruesome trophy.
Jason recovered the discarded HK416 and handed it to Ethan with a look of respect so deep it bordered on awe. "That was... masterful, Boss."
"I told you," Ethan said, smiling faintly as he put the rifle into the trunk. "I don’t plan on dying anytime soon. Get in, Jason. We have a meeting to attend."
As Jason got back into the driver’s seat, the System’s voice echoed directly in Ethan’s mind, laced with disappointment. [Boooo! That was boring, Champion! You solved that without any real violence! I was hoping for more broken bones, maybe a public execution to assert dominance!]
Ethan rolled his eyes as he settled into the back seat. "Relax, System. Words can often be far more dangerous than fists or guns. I just created a legal and media nightmare for a Congressman. That’s a better weapon than a broken arm."
The System scoffed. [Spoken like a true wimp!] It retorted with a loud, synthetic laugh. [If you truly had the guts, you would have just killed them all, and then either get chased by the army and die horribly, or kill them all too! Hahaha! Now that’s a life event!]
Ethan rolled his eyes at the System’s bloodlust. He settled back into his seat and closed the door. "Alright, Jason," Ethan said. "Let’s go. I have an important meeting to attend, and I hope no one else tries to screw with us on the way."
Jason nodded, shifting the car into gear with a professional smoothness that belied the recent confrontation. "Understood, Boss."