(Yesterday I was feeling unusually virtuous, so I wrote an extra chapter—here it is, early for you!) A heavy-lift helicopter flew out from the fortress, dangling a massive box as it headed toward the jungle. The box was hexagonal, like a honeycomb cell, about the size of a tanker truck’s fuel tank. As the helicopter hovered over the jungle, preparing to land, a bullet whizzed in from afar—crack!—and punched a hole right through the front windshield.
Sniper fire from those mercs! On this island, everything’s enemy territory to them, so they’re not about to play nice with a chopper.
The pilot freaked out, slammed the release button, and booked it. The big ol’ box dropped seven or eight meters—boom!—right into the dirt. The bosses watching couldn’t stop snickering, and Jonathan Black looked like he’d bitten into a lemon. One of the bosses cackled, “Hey, your secret weapon’s not gonna croak from the fall, is it?”
Jonathan shot back, “Just you wait. You folks are in for a show.” He glued his eyes to the screen.
The box hissed out jets of pressurized air, buzzed, and a wall slowly flipped open. Camera zooms in—inside is a dude, strapped tight to a steel bed. White guy, not tall, probably forty. For a soldier, forty’s over the hill—no wonder they call him “Old Veteran.” But right now, he’s locked down by layers of steel claws, like some wild beast under heavy guard.
With a series of clanks, the iron claws locking his limbs, chest, abdomen, neck, and head all released. Nothing held him anymore, but the man just stood there, silent and unmoving.
Yo, did that guy just faceplant for real?
Just as everyone was wondering, figures appeared in the jungle opposite. It was a few mercenaries—they’d clearly seen the helicopter drop the box. Normally, what gets dropped from a heavy-lift helicopter is supplies or weapons. The mercs decided to snatch whatever it was and give those weird enemies a taste of their own medicine!
But as they got closer, they realized the box actually held a person.
“What’s up with this freak?” The mercs kept their distance. “Looks like enemy reinforcements, but why’s he just standing there?” “Forget it, let’s catch him napping—watch me smoke this guy!” said one of the team, hefting his gun.
The commander dropped his weapon, his voice cold and bitter: “These freaks might be tough, but they’ve got rocks for brains. We play it smart, wipe them out, and pay those bastards back for our boys!”
“Boss…” Finally something clear came through the headset, but it wasn’t good news—a voice wailed, “Run! There’s some kind of monster—!”
“Move it, move it! We’re at the ravine—get your asses over here!” Even with chaos all around, the commander’s escape plan was on point. The ravine was over twenty meters wide, and they’d prepped it for just this kind of retreat.
“Go!” No time for ropes or fancy gear—the commander hooked his rifle to the cable and zipped down the slope. Gunfire rattled behind, screams echoed, but he just gritted his teeth and kept moving. Sliding across the ravine, he hit the ground with a roll, spun, and aimed back at the path.
Then his eyes went red—he was the only one who’d made it. Everyone else was dead. “Nooo!” he howled, smashing the cable and cutting off the only way across the cliff.
Old Veteran straightened up, his muscles wriggling around the wounds, and in no time, he squeezed out every last bullet. Clink, clink, the slugs hit the ground—dude looked totally fine. (Vote for me! Leave a comment, drop a recommendation, toss me all your votes! Honestly, I have no clue what these votes even do—but hey, I’m shameless enough to beg for ‘em anyway!)