Cole didn't want this weapon to exist in any world.If the Rabbit's Foot remained, the chaos it would unleash was beyond imagination.
"Yes," Jason said. "As long as the chips implanted in my body and my mentor's are removed and inserted into the Rabbit's Foot, the device can be completely destroyed. Once it's gone, it can never be rebuilt—the core material no longer exists."
Cole nodded slowly. That was something he could work with.
Jason looked at him, gathering his resolve. "Cole, you're a mercenary, right?"
Cole nodded.
"I've got a commission for you."He took a breath. "I need you to protect me and my mentor—and, if possible, help us destroy this weapon. Between us, our total assets should top twenty million. I don't know if that's enough."
He gave a bitter laugh. "When I realized what I was developing, I thought about walking away. But you know my situation. My parents sacrificed everything for me. My father's been on dialysis for years. I agreed because the money would save him… and still couldn't."
Cole patted his shoulder, saying nothing.
System, he called silently, is this commission registering?
Ding—Mission commission is not equal to mission objective.
Cole frowned. Twenty million USD wasn't pocket change, yet competing parties—the Expendables, the employers, the arms dealers—would all be in play. For such stakes, a balanced contract should register.
It was a novice mission before, the system replied.
Cole exhaled. "So now it requires an equivalent-value commission."
"System, calculate whether Jason Tate and his mentor's value equal the task's weight."
Calculating… Two S-level R&D scientific talents registered. Commission accepted.
Cole grinned. Two S-level researchers—rare assets by any metric.
"Jason," he said, "I'll take your job, but I have one condition: when this is over, you and your mentor work for me."
Jason shrugged. "No problem. But can you even fund our experiments? I don't work for free, and my annual salary's not cheap."
He wasn't wrong—R&D devoured capital and personnel. Without military funding, even a genius team couldn't survive; developing this weapon alone had burned through billions.
"When it comes to money, we'll manage," Cole said with a faint smile. "Once I recruit a few more high-value people, system rewards will stabilize the base. Funding will come. For now, we move step by step—and reclaim what Ellingson has been siphoning all these years."
Jason nodded. "Alright. If you can keep us safe, I'll convince my mentor."He paused, curious. "By the way, Cole—how big is your mercenary team, and who's on it?"
Cole chuckled and pointed toward Dade and Kate, still working by the doorway. "As for the name, haven't decided yet."
Jason blinked. "You're telling me your entire team is just you and those two kids?"
Cole nodded.
"Oh my God," Jason groaned. "Can I still quit?"
"Too late," Cole said with a grin. "Relax—I'll keep you and your mentor alive."
Jason sighed. "Great. And here I thought I'd hired some unstoppable elite unit. Guess I'm stuck."
Ding—Commissioned mission generating…
Mission: Protect Jason Tate and his mentor, and destroy the weapon codenamed Rabbit's Foot.Reward: Modified Hummer (from G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra) + three attribute points.
Cole's attention locked on the Hummer. In G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra, the customized vehicle driven by Storm Shadow and Baroness has packed armor, micro-missiles, and EMP rounds—basically a rolling tank with teeth.
The moment the briefing cleared, Cole began planning.
According to Jason, the Rabbit's Foot was stored in the laboratory's secure vault. The room was heavily fortified; dual-iris verification from both him and his mentor was required for entry. Once inside, removing the Rabbit's Foot from its containment box would instantly trigger an alarm and seal the vault.
He was weighing possible infiltration routes when Dade's voice broke in from outside.
"Got something!"
Cole and Jason stepped out. Paper covered the floor—hundreds of A4 sheets stacked and scattered, all financial statements and records from the Ellingson Corporation.
"This isn't a virus," Dade said. "It's a worm."He pointed to the monitor. "Here—every transaction Ellingson made over the years. From million-dollar contracts down to paying ten bucks for gas—each one skimmed fractions of a cent."
"It went undetected because the data exchanged, but balances stayed static. Nothing looked missing."
He zoomed in on a column of figures. "He's been gnawing at the micro-transactions in double time."
Cole understood instantly—it was like stealing grains of rice from a barrel. Take a few each time and no one counts them.
"The total bite so far?"
"Two hundred eighteen million US dollars," Dade said grimly.