Chapter 2: Resource Exploration and Use.

The roar of the Humvee's engine echoed through the vast desert as it quickly approached the air base. The sky, tinged with a deep blue, contrasted with the scorching heat emanating from the sand. From the top of the guard turrets, the soldiers had already spotted the vehicle in the distance and were prepared. The weapons were ready, the eyes sharp.

"Humvee coming closer!" There are no reports of any team returning at this time! one of the observers shouted as he adjusted his visor.

Inside the base, the tension was palpable in the air. The soldiers lined up, pointing their rifles at the vehicle, which continued to move forward without showing any sign of stopping.

"Stop there!" shouted the soldier closest to the main entrance, his voice full of authority, his finger ready on the trigger. Stop the vehicle now or let's open fire!

The Humvee finally screeched to the brakes, coming to a stop right in front of the armed soldiers. Desert dust rose around the vehicle, enveloping it in a brown cloud.

From inside, the driver's door slowly opened, creaking with every movement. The silence became heavy as a blond man stepped out with his hands up, staggering.

"I'm Sergeant John!" Survivor of the 12th Regiment! He cried, his voice broken with fatigue and pain. He seemed about to collapse. An ambush... all dead... my captain, my companions—" he continued as he got out of the vehicle, his face pale and his clothes stained with blood.

The soldiers looked at each other, without immediately lowering their weapons. No one was aware of a John Rockefeller being in the regiment. Was it really him? The rumor that someone of their lineage was on the battlefield had circulated, but now, in front of them, that reality seemed hard to believe.

The most senior soldier, a man with a weather-beaten face, approached slowly, his gaze fixed on the wounded man.

"John Rockefeller?" He asked in some disbelief, slowly lowering his gun. Put down your weapons, everyone. This man is wounded.

The soldiers, still hesitant, obeyed the order. But they couldn't help but whisper to each other as they watched the newcomer. What did a Rockefeller do on a combat mission? That family was known for its immense economic power and its contacts in high places, not for being on the battlefield, and even less so in a situation of such precariousness.

The veteran soldier quickly approached John and gave him a more detailed look. Her eyes noticed the makeshift bandages on the man's torso and arm. They were soaked in blood.

"We need a doctor here!" The soldier shouted, holding John, who could barely stand. Relax, soldier. You're safe now.

John, his eyes narrowed and his breathing heavy, muttered a few words that were barely audible before he fell unconscious:

Well, it's good to still be alive.

When John woke up, the midday light was streaming through the canvas of a personal store. He blinked several times, trying to locate himself. The smell of disinfectant and medicine filled the space, and the sounds of boots treading on the sand and engines in the distance told him he was at the military base. He tried to sit up, but a twinge of pain ran down his right side, he quickly dismissed it.

"Wake up at last," said a voice from the back of the tent.

John looked up and saw a tall man, dressed in an impeccable military uniform. He was a commander, judging by the insignia on his shoulder. He slowly approached his bunk and watched him with a mixture of curiosity and respect, as he watched him walk at the exit or where he could run, as well as sharp objects and the weapon inside the officer's vest of the person in front of him.

"I'm Commander Harper," he introduced himself, holding out a hand. The doctors say you were lucky. Not many survive what you went through, the whole dead platoon.

John took the commander's hand, squeezing lightly as a sense of dizziness came over him, yet alert seeing the commander's weak spots.

"Where am I...?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"You're at al-Assad Air Base, in Anbar 180 kilometers from Baghdad. Harper paused, gauging John's reaction. We got the report that your regiment was ambushed, but it's not clear what actually happened because of the wounds of your comrades, it was a very strong engagement. I feel sorry for your colleagues.

John nodded slowly, though the commander's words seemed distant, as if he were talking to himself. His mind was foggy, and he felt that something was not right with all the information.

"Don't worry," Harper continued. You'll stay here until you fully recover. Doctors estimate that this will take about three months. Rest, it's an order.

With one last glance, Harper walked out of the store, leaving John alone with his thoughts. Silence filled the place again, but in John's mind, there was growing chaos. Something was wrong. Too bad.

He sat up with effort, limping as he walked to a table in the center of the tent. On top of it was a military laptop, robust and somewhat outdated in his opinion. He sat down in front of her, turning on the device.

"I need answers," he muttered as he typed on the screen, accessing the available databases.

The first thing that caught his eye was the date in the corner of the screen.

"October 2009?" I'd forgotten how slow and obsolete Google could be these days, uff," he frowned. He knew it couldn't be so surprising, but something was troubling him. The pieces didn't fit. He continued to explore the archives and the internet until his mind began to connect the dots, the computer was very outdated, but the speed at which he searched for information and added new code was unreal, quickly there was a much faster information search code, looking for keywords and people, he managed to capture a lot of information, but the important thing was heartbreaking.

First, the absences: Coca-Cola did not exist, nor did the band Queen or AC/DC. Elon Musk was not a household name in this world, not even YouTube existed here. Even more disturbingly, there was no reference to Marvel or Coldplay or Nickelodeon, and some of the most famous series and movies I remembered, like Harry Potter or Fast and Furious Avatar or major productions, didn't exist at all.

"This isn't just a leap in time," he murmured, beginning to sweat from the uncertainty of not knowing what happened. This was not his world. Something much stranger was happening.

The computer displayed information about his own identity: John Rockefeller, a member of one of the richest and most powerful families in the world. Everything seemed to fit with what he remembered, except for one important detail: he must not be alive.

He began to remember fragments of the mission that had brought him here: he was not a member of the Rockefellers. The Rockefeller family had hired him for a sting operation. He had to impersonate an heir to fulfill certain missions, have achievements and return. But now, he knew that they never expected him to come back. It had all been a plan to eliminate the flashes by showing him John's conversation before he died.

"They wanted me dead," he whispered, feeling a chill run down his spine. His intuition was confirmed.

Now I was completely fused with this body, all this knowledge seems known movies series music medicine Wow.

With his heart pounding, John wasted no more time. If he wanted to survive, he needed a plan. He opened a program by starting to create signal blockers, as well as trackers connecting to hidden IPs, accessing the Deep Web. He knew exactly how to move between the shadows now. Years of knowledge about IP and DNS switching 1 and 0 along with c programming flowed through his fingers as if he was born for it. In a matter of minutes, I had created a new identity in all the databases in the US, but the physical papers were still missing, I talk to a contact and I would have everything I needed within 1 month in Dubai I would leave it in a subway with the key in a box inside the water tank of the 3 bathroom.

With around 40 thousand dollars spent it was time to look for money, the base should have a lot of money, but it would be watched and it is not like walking around saying hello and taking the money.

.-What to do now, we need a great industry something that we can generate great money stably, but for almost everything I need 2 things to be in the United States and a lot of money .-Thinking about the ways to get it the fastest was to take the money seized at the base there should be about 1000 million here at the base maybe more, Many will say that's too much money, but in a single seizure, 2000 million were found in a single house.

"Well, it looks like we have to work our way out of here," John murmured, as he sat up in his bunk.

Over the next two weeks, he recovered enough to move normally, although the doctor warned him not to overdo it. He began to walk around the base, interacting with other soldiers and observing his surroundings carefully. During that time, he took the opportunity to continue playing with the military laptop he had found in his store. He programmed some improvements in the interaction of the operating system, but what really interested him was something more practical: he managed to create a small smartwatch that included a digitized map and an optimized compass, much more advanced than current systems.

As he adjusted the last details of his device, an idea crossed his mind.

"I still can't find a viable option to get money out of here. Maybe it's best to go and look for another opportunity..." he murmured, as he toured the base.

He had already sabotaged some of the Humvees, creating problems that would range from serious flaws to small details that would go unnoticed at first glance. The last vehicle I had intervened looked in good shape, but it was hiding a trap that would put it out of service only for a while thus creating my perfect exit vehicle. All that was missing was an event large enough to distract everyone at the base and be able to get close to the warehouse where they stored the money.

John pondered as he walked around the base.

"I need something that doesn't cause deaths, but that requires the full attention of the staff... Maybe a multiple fire, cutting the water lines and sabotaging the pumps, forcing them to drink water from the wells..." he stopped, with a sly smile. Yes, that should work.

He began to create small devices that, when burned, would be undetectable. Each one was designed to be different and leave no trace. He installed these devices in warehouses and stores throughout the base, setting the stage for his big move.

However, he still had doubts.

"Fire alone will not be enough... I need something with more impact. "Something that really puts them on alert," he thought as he adjusted one of the latest devices. Well, that will be a problem for tomorrow.

That night, while going to bed, John activated his new smartwatch.

"Set alarm for 6 a.m., please," he said quietly, smiling. It is always good to ask for things politely. You never know when an AI might rebel, do you? He laughed softly. Don't worry, my friend. I'll give you more power soon. It would be amazing to have a kind of Cortana.

With those words, he closed his eyes and prepared for the next day. But he didn't have much time to rest.

Suddenly, in the middle of the night, loud explosions shook the base. John slammed himself up, but before he could react, someone grabbed him by the shoulders and punched him in the face. Stunned, he was dragged to a chair and tied up, as his vision slowly cleared.

"Good evening, my friend," said a voice in front of him, in a mocking tone. We're sorry to interrupt your sleep, but we have some unfinished business with you.

John raised his head and saw a hard-faced man, with two long scars from forehead to neck. He was wearing a SWAT uniform, as were two other men standing next to him, with masks that hid their faces. He could feel more men behind him, though he didn't dare to turn his head.

"Someone paid us a large amount of money to kill you," the scarred man continued. But before we do, we want to know why a sergeant like you is worth so much money.

John blinked a couple of times and rubbed his jaw, still a little dazed from the blow.

"You know, you have a good hook, but..." Hey, you called me "dude." Friends don't hit other friends for information. They only ask for it, don't they? He smiled, a little blood dripping down his lip. Oh, right, right... You also come to kill me.

The man with the scars laughed and looked at his companions, as if wondering if this guy was serious.

"Forgive me if I confused you." We came to kill you, of course. But first we want to know why," she said, as she sat down across from John, resting her elbows on a table that had been placed between them. If you collaborate, we could give you a quick and clean shot. What do you think?

John, feigning fear, decided to play a dangerous card.

"Well, well... seems like a fair deal. But sadly, I have no idea why I'm worth so much money. "I'm really perplexed," he said, looking at the men as if he were really scared. Although... besides knowing the password of the money accounts, I can't think of anything else.

The words caught the man's attention instantly. His eyes widened a little wider, revealing his interest.

"Money?" What money? The leader asked.

John swallowed, as if terrified, but inside he was smiling.

"Yes... money. There's a cage about 70 yards from here, to the southwest, with the American flag in the center. On the second floor there are about 700 million dollars. Clean money, to pay contractors and soldiers entry code 657894.

The men exchanged glances, surprised by the information.

"700 million?" The leader asked, laughing. And those idiots only paid 50 million to kill you. I like you, boy. You know when to speak. Mike, Alex, go see if what he says is true. If not, we already know what to do.

The two soldiers got up and left the tent. The leader, before leaving, gave one last order.

"Keep a close eye on him. If he lies, I want him to suffer before I kill him.

The men began to walk around John, but they did not see the knife he had hidden under the table. In one swift move, John stabbed one of the guards and, before the other could react, shot him with the silenced 9mm he had pulled from the corpse.

"Nothing personal, my friend," he whispered, as the body fell with a thud.

John began changing clothes quickly, trading his military uniform for the dead soldier's SWAT suit. She had been altering her appearance for days, dyeing her hair and wearing special effects makeup to make her face look different. Now, with the helmet and balaclava, no one would recognize him.

He dragged the bodies and placed them one on top of the other, wrapping the hand of one of them in the knife, so that it would look as if they had killed each other. Afterward, he sprayed blood across the tent and started a fire, making sure the bodies were completely charred.

"The government will want to erase what happened today... and the Rockefellers too. This will be buried," he muttered as he cut off one side of the tent to escape.

He quickly ran to the workshop, where the Humvee he had previously sabotaged was waiting for him. He knew he had to be quick, activated a detonator in his hand and the entire base began to turn red and yellow, along with the invasion of the mercenaries was perfect for escaping.