From Idler to Tech Tycoon: Earth

”You came from the firefight nearby?” the man asked, his voice low and accusatory.

Mario met his gaze, jaw clenched. ”We’re part of Special Action Force. 1st Special Action Battallion”

The man’s eyes narrowed, dark and probing. ”SAF, huh? Well, you’re more than a terrorist. Where’s the rest of your unit then?”

Mario’s jaw tightened. Behind him, Zaldy’s breathing was slowing, each breath a shallow, wheezing rasp.

The man raised his shotgun, pressing the barrel against Mario’s forehead. Cold steel met sweat-slick skin.

”You got five seconds to tell me why we shouldn’t paint the ground with your brains.”

Mario’s gaze remained steady, but inside, his mind was a whirlwind. The mission was over. The extraction team was long gone. They were on their own now, trapped in enemy territory, surrounded by ghosts and armed men.

The moon hung high, a cold, watchful eye as Mario and Zaldy knelt in the mud, their hands clasped behind their necks. The armed civilians formed a tight circle around them, rifles and shotguns aimed squarely at their heads. The tension in the air was palpable, thick and heavy like the dense humidity of the forest.

Mario’s knees ached, the rough ground digging into his flesh. Zaldy’s breathing was a ragged wheeze beside him, his leg still bleeding beneath the torn fabric of his pants. The blood had soaked through, staining the dirt a dark, glistening crimson.

The silence was shattered by the crunch of boots against gravel. Emerging from the shadows, a man in his forties strode forward, flanked by three men in casual attire. His presence commanded immediate respect. The armed civilians relaxed slightly, their grips on their weapons easing as he approached.

”Sir Ismael,” one of the armed men said, dipping his head. ”We caught these two stragglers.”

Ismael’s gaze was sharp, calculating. He wore a tailored button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms marked with old scars. His jaw was set, eyes dark and unforgiving as they locked onto Mario and Zaldy.

”What about Ryan’s side?” Ismael asked, his voice carrying a controlled, authoritative tone.

”No word from them yet, sir,” the man replied. ”But we informed them we caught these two. They’re claiming to be SAF.”

Ismael’s lips twisted into a scoff. ”SAF? In our backyard? I don’t think so.”

Mario’s jaw clenched. The Special Action Force cover was a last-ditch attempt. It was a gamble, and they had lost.

Ismael crouched down to Mario’s level, his face inches away. The stench of cigarette smoke and aftershave clung to him. He grabbed Mario’s chin, forcing him to look up.

”You look like shit,” Ismael said, voice calm and measured. ”Who sent you?”

Mario said nothing. He kept his jaw tight, eyes defiant, staring through Ismael.

Ismael smirked. ”Silent type, huh?” He turned to Zaldy, who was struggling to keep his eyes open. ”And you? You gonna talk?”

Zaldy’s head lolled forward, his skin pale and clammy. The shrapnel wound on his thigh continued to bleed, the crimson spreading like ink on paper.

Ismael stood up, his gaze sweeping over the men. ”Take them. We’re done here.”

The armed men moved in, yanking Mario and Zaldy to their feet. The world spun as Mario was dragged forward, boots scuffing through the dirt.

The dirt road stretched out like a dark, winding snake, its edges shrouded in mist and moonlight. Two black vans waited, engines idling softly, headlights dimmed.

Mario’s head swam, his vision blurring as they were hauled out of the forest and onto the road. The van loomed ahead, its rear doors open like a waiting maw.

Ismael’s men pushed Mario and Zaldy forward, forcing them to kneel once more. One of the men flicked open the van doors, the hinges creaking. The interior was dark, a suffocating void.

”Get them in,” Ismael ordered.

Mario tried to resist, but a rifle butt slammed into his back, sending him sprawling forward. He hit the van floor hard, the metal cold against his cheek. Zaldy was thrown in beside him, his wounded leg twisted at an awkward angle. He groaned, eyes rolling back as the pain surged through him.

Ismael’s face appeared above them, eyes shadowed, jaw clenched. ”You two better pray Ryan’s side has better news. Because right now? You’re worth less than the bullets we wasted on your friends.”

The doors slammed shut, plunging them into darkness.

Outside, Ismael turned to his men. ”You three, with me,” he said, jerking a thumb at the remaining van. ”Let’s go.”