Genesis Code: The Genetic Awakening-Chapter 45: Foolishness (2)

With slow, deliberate steps, Jetro approached Jess, who was still groaning and struggling to get up.

"I don’t get it," he said, punctuating his words with a sharp kick that sent her stumbling back. "What did you hope to achieve by coming after me?"

He knew exactly what the catwoman wanted, but it didn’t make sense to him. He was far stronger than her, and without a solid plan, Jess had almost no chance of defeating him.

"Or were you hoping I’d spill everything out of the goodness of my heart?" he mocked, crouching slightly to meet her defiant gaze. "No... you can’t be that stupid—though maybe you are."

Jess glared at him with eyes brimming with hatred and frustration. She was in excruciating pain, her body battered and bruised. Jetro’s punches had been relentless, his ruthlessness unyielding.

’He’s close enough,’ Jess thought, her mind working through the pain. Subtly, she retrieved her last resort.

In a flash of movement that caught Jetro off guard, Jess plunged a small needle into his leg.

"Mm!" Jetro exclaimed, recoiling in surprise and anger. He jumped back, clutching his leg. "You..." he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "What did you just do?"

As he backed away, his initial confidence began to waver. The cocky smirk faded from his face as an unexpected wave of pain and weakness surged through his body, forcing him to his knees.

’Damn it,’ Jetro cursed inwardly, his breathing uneven. ’I’m in serious trouble.’

He tried to move, but his legs refused to respond. Panic crept in as his eyes darted around, searching desperately for anything that could turn the tide in his favour.

But there was nothing in sight. Jetro had deliberately brought the catwoman here to ensure privacy—alone and undisturbed. Now, that decision was coming back to haunt him.

’I should’ve brought at least one of the guys with me,’ he cursed, regret flooding his thoughts.

Jess, meanwhile, wiped the blood dripping from her lips, a twisted smile spreading across her face.

The mixture of pain and satisfaction made her look both crazed and terrifying. The needle didn’t need to go deep—just enough to draw blood—and she had succeeded.

"Hehe..." Jess chuckled darkly as she pushed herself to her feet, staggering slightly but still resolute.

She began approaching Jetro, her bloody grin never fading. "You talk too much," she said, her voice laced with venom. "For a contract killer, you should know better than to play with your targets."

Now standing before the kneeling Jetro, she delivered a swift kick to his face, the force snapping his head to the side. "That’s for coming after us in the first place," she spat.

Jess didn’t stop there. Fueled by her anger, frustration, and bitterness, she unleashed a barrage of heavy kicks on Jetro, each strike filled with the fury of someone who had been wronged one too many times.

Jetro could only curse under his breath, helpless as the relentless blows rained down on him.

His face became a grotesque mess—bruised, battered, and swelling rapidly. Blood poured from his split lips and the countless cuts now littering his body.

The worst part, though, was whatever she had injected him with. It was wreaking havoc inside him, his body betraying him at every turn.

His temperature spiked, sweat pouring from his skin as if he were on fire. His joints screamed in protest, his muscles feeling like they were decaying from the inside out.

It was pure torture, a hell he hadn’t anticipated, and for the first time in years, Jetro felt fear creeping into his chest.

"Fortunately for you, there’s a way out," Jess said suddenly, her voice calm but dripping with menace.

The unexpected offer made Jetro’s eyes flicker toward her. She reached into her storage artefact and retrieved a small vial, waving it teasingly in front of him with a sinister smile. "Answer my questions, and you might just get out of this mess alive."

Jetro lay sprawled on the ground, writhing in agony, his breaths coming in short, laboured gasps.

Even if he wanted to respond, the pain made it nearly impossible to form words. But he wasn’t naive. He knew the truth. Jess wouldn’t let him leave this place alive—not after everything.

Why would she? Letting your enemy live only gave them a chance to return stronger and more prepared.

What if, next time, they succeeded in taking someone close to you? Jetro wouldn’t make that mistake in her position, and he doubted Jess would either.

Still, hope lingered, faint and fragile. After all, anything was possible.

Jess ignored the bitter glint in his eyes and continued pressing him. "Who contracted you to come after us?" Her tone turned sharper, more urgent.

She crouched slightly, narrowing her piercing gaze. "You don’t have long. Start talking."

Jetro didn’t respond. Not a word.

He had already accepted his fate. If he was going to die anyway, he would do so without giving the catwoman what she wanted.

In his line of work, a moment like this was inevitable. He had always known his day would come. He just hadn’t expected it to end with some kind of poison eating him alive from the inside out.

Jess’s frustration mounted. Her teeth clenched, her fists trembling as she struggled to keep her composure. "Just tell me something! Anything!" she shouted, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions.

This wasn’t just a mission for her—it was personal. She couldn’t find peace until she avenged her fallen comrades.

Jetro let out a dry, rasping chuckle. Even as his body failed him, he found grim amusement in her growing desperation.

But the effort of laughing only worsened his condition. His breathing grew shallower, each inhale feeling like a razor slicing through his chest.

Still, he felt a pang of pity for her. The woman was consumed by her grief, a walking wound that wouldn’t heal until she got what she sought.

’She’s really pitiful,’ Jetro thought. He bore no real grudge against her. If things had been different, he might have admired her tenacity.

Perhaps he could grant her one small favour.

"N-o..." The word came out as a barely audible whisper.

Jess’s ears perked up immediately. She snapped her attention back to him, her desperation flaring into hope.

"What?" she demanded, stepping closer but maintaining a safe distance—she wouldn’t repeat his mistake. "I didn’t catch that. Say it again!"

Jetro smiled faintly, his cracked lips curling just enough to show he still had some control, even in his final moments.

He saw the flicker of hope in Jess’s eyes—a fragile light that he could snuff out with his silence. But he had already made his decision.

"Noble..." he whispered, his voice barely audible. It was the only clue he could offer her. He had nothing else to give. The rest would be up to Jess to uncover.

Jess stood frozen, the word echoing in her mind. Her expression remained unreadable as she watched the light fade from Jetro’s eyes, his final breath rattling out of him.

"This is a cruel world," she muttered, breaking the silence as her gaze lingered on his lifeless body.

Her voice was heavy, burdened by a mix of grief and grim resolve. "Sometimes, strength isn’t enough. You have to play the fool just to get what you want."

It had been Jetro’s arrogance—his underestimation of her—that had allowed Jess to inject the serum into his system.

She had made herself look desperate, like a cornered cat with no claws. And while her desperation was real, her act of helplessness had lured Jetro into letting his guard down.

That mistake had cost him dearly.

Jess scanned the area one last time. The night was still, save for the rustle of the wind through the trees.

She couldn’t stay here any longer. With a final glance at Jetro’s fallen body, she turned and sprinted into the shadows, disappearing.

The single word Jetro had given her wasn’t enough. It barely scratched the surface of what she needed to know. But it was a start, and for now, that would have to suffice.

As she ran, her thoughts drifted to Caleb—the man in a sealed dungeon, a prisoner of circumstances similar to her own.

’I hope he makes it back in one piece,’ she thought, her pace quickening as the weight of her mission bore down on her shoulders.