The departure was scheduled for 6 a.m. the following day, giving everyone a day to settle personal matters and say goodbye to loved ones. That afternoon, Jack visited Jason Hayes' home, where Jason's wife, Alanna, was recovering well. Her complexion looked vibrant, and she seemed to be in good spirits.
Perhaps the near-loss had made Jason more appreciative. While he still played the role of a hands-off husband at home, a single glance from Alanna was enough to get him to stay by her side and help out—albeit clumsily.
Watching Jason bumble around trying to help, Jack and Sonny Quinn exchanged knowing smiles over their beers from their spots on the couch.
Like most stable military families, Jason had a house of his own, two relatively well-behaved kids, and a beautiful, supportive blonde wife who kept things running smoothly while he was away on missions. The only notable difference was that, thanks to some fortuitous help from a certain FBI agent, Jason had paid off his mortgage early and saved enough for his kids' education.
Alanna's cooking wasn't exceptional, but it managed to fill the bellies of three hungry men. After their meal, Jason pulled a black hooded sweatshirt out of the closet. Alanna's eyes narrowed slightly with suspicion.
"We're just going to the bar for a quick drink. The guys are already waiting," Jason said, kissing his wife casually and pretending nothing was amiss.
Alanna scrutinized him for a long moment but finally relented, urging him to come home early before releasing her hold on his neck.
Outside Jason's house, Ray Perry was waiting in an old Ford pickup. The group of burly men piled into the truck, cramming the backseat until it was bursting at the seams. Jack retrieved a black hoodie from a duffle bag under the passenger seat, pulled it on, and glanced at Ray.
"I think Alanna might suspect something."
Before Ray could respond, Sonny, squeezed into the backseat with Jason, snorted. "Alanna knows everything. The only secrets Jason keeps from her are our mission details. Beyond that, he's an open book."
"Hey, watch your mouth!" Jason snapped, smacking Sonny on the back of the head. The two hulking men, whose combined weight exceeded 500 pounds, started play-fighting in the cramped space.
Ray, worried his beloved truck might not survive the tussle, quickly intervened. "Knock it off. Clay's been watching that punk all night. Let's finish this and get it over with."
Jack was tagging along for what was essentially a revenge mission. The target was a local gang leader who had almost killed Alanna in a hit-and-run. Thanks to lenient criminal justice reforms, the man had been released on bail shortly after his arrest.
The SEALs had been seething over the incident. While Jason had been preoccupied caring for his recovering wife, they had refrained from taking action. But with Alanna now fully healed and the team heading to Mexico the next day, tonight was the perfect time to settle the score.
Half an hour later, the Ford pickup pulled up outside a bar. Clay Spenser, also wearing a dark hoodie, emerged from the shadows and squeezed into the backseat.
"I checked with some friends. That punk Marcus shows up here every Wednesday to peddle pills with his two cronies. I saw them go in two hours ago; they should be coming out soon."
When he finished, all eyes turned to Jack, leaving him momentarily puzzled. "What? Why are you all looking at me?"
Jason and Ray replied in unison, "Because you're in charge of the plan."
"Only you cops know how to do this without leaving a trail."
Jack gaped at them. So that's why they insisted on bringing him along?
"But I'm FBI!"
"Shut up. FBI, cop—it's all the same," Jason said impatiently. "We don't want MPs showing up at our door later."
"Fine, you bastards." Spending too much time with these soldiers had made Jack develop a habit of swearing like them.
Despite his protests, Jack retrieved a pair of binoculars and began surveying the surroundings, planning their next move. "That alley over there will work. You guys hide there. I'll pretend to be a buyer and lure them in. Then…" Jack made a slashing motion across his throat.
"Got it." Ray started the truck but was stopped by Jack.
"There's a camera at the bar's entrance. It might not work, but don't risk being caught on tape. Change the plates, circle around to the alley from the other side, and back the truck in. That way, we can leave immediately after."
Jack got out first, pulling his hood over his head. Walking toward the bar with a deliberate swagger, he looked every bit the small-time thug.
"Professional," Ray muttered, giving Jack a thumbs-up.
"Thud!"
"Thud!"
In the dark, secluded alley, fists met flesh with resounding impacts, followed by muffled cries of pain.
"Crack!" A series of bone-breaking sounds echoed in the night, accompanied by groans that gradually faded into silence.
The one-sided beating lasted less than ten minutes. As tires screeched, the Ford pickup sped out of the alley, its red taillights vanishing into the night.
Breaking a few bones was hardly a workout for the SEALs. If anything, doing this on home soil, where they had to be cautious, felt more thrilling than their overseas operations.
After driving a safe distance, Ray couldn't help but ask, "Jack, what was that last move? That punk won't die, right?"
Jason had planned to merely break a few limbs as a warning. But before they left, he saw Jack press the back of Marcus' neck. The gang leader, who had been writhing like a fish out of water, immediately went limp.
"Cervical dislocation. I damaged some of his nerves. He'll spend the rest of his life bedridden and won't be hurting anyone again," Jack said matter-of-factly.
"Uh… wasn't that a bit excessive?" Clay asked hesitantly after a long pause.
The SEALs fell silent. Despite their combat experience, they were used to following rules of engagement. Back home, they were cautious about escalation, often avoiding direct confrontation unless it was absolutely necessary.
Jack broke the silence. "Did you really think breaking their limbs would end this? If Marcus recovers, what's stopping him from coming after your family? Gang members don't need proof—suspicion alone is enough."
That sobered everyone up. Jason, usually quick to retort, remained quiet. Jack decided to drive the point home.
"If you face trouble outside the base, remember you've got an FBI friend. Don't try to handle everything yourselves. The rules outside the military are different. Call me before things spiral out of control."
Jason clapped Jack on the shoulder. "Thanks, man. If you ever need us, just say the word."
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Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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