The Escape

General Simon Gilson's retirement seemed rather comfortable, judging by his residence perched atop a suburban hill. His home was a neatly designed duplex villa, surrounded by a pristine white picket fence encompassing a small slice of paradise. The lush greenery and diverse flora hinted at the retired general's refined taste.

Jay stood in front of the villa's crimson door, ringing the bell repeatedly without response. An apologetic thought crossed his mind before he scanned the building with X-ray vision. The general, clad in a light gold robe, was tending to his bonsai by the window, obviously ignoring the door on purpose.

Persistence was Jay's approach, and he pressed the bell insistently for over a minute.

The general, finally reaching his limit, opened the door with a forceful tug, ready to dismiss the persistent visitor. Yet, upon recognizing Jay, he froze, his expression petrifying on the spot.

Jay's rehearsed greeting got stuck in his throat as he tentatively asked, "Uh, General Gilson? Are you alright? You seem a bit pale."

"It's you," Gilson scrutinized him back and forth, disbelief etched on his features. "No mistake, it's you. But how? We thought you were dead."

"Who, me?" Jay pointed at himself, surprised. "You know me?"

Gilson studied him with a complex mix of emotions before asking, "So, you remember nothing?"

Shaking his head, Jay responded, "If you mean my past, then no, not a thing. My earliest memory is from the aftermath of the Doomsday invasion. Before that, nothing. It seems you know of my origins?"

Gilson's breathing became erratic, his weak heart thumping erratically as sweat beaded on his forehead. His eyes darted before he asked, "If you remember nothing, why come here?"

"Sdeproject," Jay said. "A friend nearly died because of it, leading me here—you're the only one connected to it that's still alive. I need to know what it is."

The general was silent, then with cracked lips, he murmured, "You know, it's top-secret."

"I have to know," Jay insisted firmly.

Retreating half a step, Gilson seemed to wrestle with his thoughts. Unbeknownst to Jay, the simple act of standing there, holding the general's gaze, exerted a colossal, invisible pressure. Not everyone had the courage to meet a Kryptonian's stare, let alone decline a request.

With a resigned sigh, Gilson conceded, "Fine, since I'm the only one left from that project..."

He paused solemnly before revealing, "You want to know what sdeproject is? The answer is simple—it's you, son."

Jay was stunned.

"Me?" He pointed at himself, bewildered. "What does that have to do with me?"

Gilson stepped aside, gesturing into the house, "Come in, I'll get you a drink, and we can talk slowly."

Meanwhile, Huntress was becoming acutely aware of the gravity of the secret she had stumbled upon. Merely attempting to crack the "sdeproject" file had made her a pariah within the base. More and more agents flooded the stairwell, intent on halting her descent. She had to fight her way out vigorously, leaving a trail of injured operatives in her wake.

As she descended another level, she was nearly blindsided by a flash of silver. Dodging just in time, strands of her hair were severed by the blade's keen edge. The assailant followed up with a sweeping kick that Huntress could barely block, almost dislocating her shoulder.

The assailant was Ivan Volkov, Victor's hulking enforcer, well-known for his brute strength rather than his intellect. Huntress had avoided the base's combative competitions, finding no pleasure in such trivial displays of prowess.

She evaded Volkov's knife strikes, using her combat skills and experience to her advantage. When he managed to land a hit on her thigh, ripping open her flesh, Huntress retaliated with a knee to his wrist, twisting and breaking the arm with precision. A few forceful slams later, Volkov lay unconscious with a gaping hole in the banister behind him.

But time was running out. As Huntress peeked downstairs, a barrage of gunfire forced her back. Agents had seized control of both stairwells, closing in on her position, sealing off nearly every escape route.

Nearly, but not quite.

After a quick assessment, Huntress launched a flashbang down the stairwell, hoping the blinding light would buy her a moment. Next, she deployed a smoke grenade and, following its cover, leaped toward the ground floor.

Gunshots rang out, bullets piercing the smoke, narrowly missing her. Ignoring the close calls, Huntress landed gracefully and rolled out of the line of fire. In an instant, she was on her feet, dashing towards the exit, leaving a trail of chaos behind her.