Mirage Island - Phantom Town Part 1

Nolan's expression grew stern as he pointed out, "This is Mirage Island."

Feeling disheartened, I sighed and responded, "I already know it was a deserted island, but seeing it in person is even more depressing."

Mr. Norman stepped in, trying to boost our spirits, "That's precisely why we're here. If we successfully complete this mission, it could lay the foundation for the resurgence of the Scorpion Syndicate. So, instead of moping around in sadness, let's try to stay positive, you two."

"Well, I guess that's true. So, anyway, what's the plan?" I asked Mr. Norman, offering a faint smile as I inquired about our next steps.

Nolan chimed in, "I think we could dock the NS Scorpion nearby and head to that town we spotted through the periscope to gather more information. However, we can't use just any dock; it has to be a secret location known only to us. This way, we can minimize the risk of being discovered."

"Alright, that sounds like a solid plan. Frankie, take some money with you. We might need it as bait to catch some rats," Mr. Norman suggested with a mischievous grin. I couldn't help but wonder what this old man was up to. While I pondered this, he began giving instructions to Lara and Miss Ava.

"Alright, ladies," Mr. Norman began, his tone firm, "make sure to keep your EcoSyncs with you at all times. They're our only means of communication. If something important comes up, we'll use the EcoSync to inform you. And if anything dangerous happens, ensure the NS Scorpion is safely back in the ocean. The last thing we need is for you two to get caught."

Lara and Miss Ava nodded in agreement, understanding the gravity of their responsibilities. Mr. Norman then turned to me and declared, "Alright, everyone, let's set course for Mirage Island."

…..

After a few hours of sailing, we finally arrived at Mirage Island. We carefully docked the NS Scorpion into a secluded spot, well away from the town. Stepping out of the submarine, Mr. Norman, Nolan, Lucas, and I began our journey toward the town, accompanied by my loyal companion, Rex.

As we left the NS Scorpion and stepped onto the deserted island, it became painfully clear how barren and dry the land was. There was hardly any greenery, and the soil beneath our feet had deep cracks, showing how badly it needed water. We even came across the remains of an old riverbed, a sad reminder of the island's thirst.

Our journey towards the town we had spotted through the periscope was met with an unsettling silence. The place felt abandoned and worn out. But what struck us first was the unfriendly reception we received. Suspicious glances followed us, and the people quickly closed their doors and windows as if they wanted to keep us out.

The most heart-wrenching sight was the condition of the town's residents. Many of them looked like they were on the verge of death, with their thin bodies and hollow eyes. They were desperate for food and water, their frail forms a cry for help.

The houses in the town were old and falling apart. Some had already collapsed, leaving behind only ruins. It was a sad scene, like a community that had seen better days and was now struggling to survive.

I couldn't help but feel uneasy about our surroundings, and it seemed like Nolan and Lucas shared my concerns. Their expressions mirrored my own sense of unease. However, Mr. Norman appeared unfazed by the unfamiliar environment and continued to walk forward confidently.

In a shaded spot near an old building, we came across a group of rough-looking individuals. They didn't seem like ordinary travelers; instead, they had the appearance of tough thugs. Their clothes were torn and dirty, and their faces were covered in grime. They had scruffy beards and unkempt hair that added to their menacing look. When we approached, they stared at us with suspicion and hostility in their eyes.

These people clearly didn't care much for politeness or civilization. Their presence in this remote town hinted at a darker side to the community. In this harsh place, they seemed to thrive on the lawlessness that prevailed, always ready for a fight or confrontation.

Mr. Norman boldly approached that group of locals and struck up a conversation, with a friendly expression on his face "Good morning, gentlemen. Would any of you be kind enough to point us in the direction of some drinks?" he inquired.

They gave us a scrutinizing once-over before one of them finally replied, "Drinks, huh? Sorry, old man, those things are pretty pricey in these parts."

Mr. Nolan chimed in confidently, "Oh, don't worry about money. We've got plenty of these." He revealed the blue coins, the currency of this strange world we had brought with us, to these dubious characters.

They eyed the money with surprise, and sly grins spread across their faces. It was evident what they had in mind.

"Well, well, well, looks like we've got a rich old man here," one of them quipped with a mischievous grin. "We'll gladly take you to the bar, but in return, you'll have to buy us some drinks too."

Mr. Norman responded cheerfully, "Of course, that's not a problem at all. You can enjoy as many drinks as you like."

"Heh heh heh, alright, boys, it seems like we're in for a treat today," he declared, laughter bubbling from him as the others joined in. There were roughly eight of them.

Following this, they all stood up, and the guy who had been talking continued, "Alright, you lot, follow me." He beckoned us, and we reluctantly complied, trailing behind them.

Two men positioned themselves in front of us, two behind, and two to our left and right, effectively trapping us. With grim determination, they led us to a dead-end, their expressions growing increasingly hostile.

"All right, you fools, hand over all your money, food, drinks, and everything valuable If you do that then maybe we'll think about sparing your lives," the leader demanded, followed by a chorus of cruel laughter.

Mr. Norman couldn't help but quip, "Well, what about those drinks?" His curiosity seemed to momentarily lighten the tense atmosphere.

The leader sneered triumphantly at Mr. Norman. "Aha... you don't understand do you, old fool? There are no drinks. Don't you see? This was all a trap," he declared with a wicked grin.

Mr. Norman's response was laced with sarcasm. "A trap, huh? It seems you're the real fools here. The one who got trapped is not us but you guys, but I doubt you're clever enough to grasp that. tsk tsk tsk" He wore a disapproving expression.

What did you say you old bastard", The guy's temper flared at Mr. Norman's words. He angrily retrieved a switchblade from his pocket and lunged towards Mr. Norman. I couldn't help but wonder why Mr. Norman had provoked him like that.

Instead of evading or defending against the attacker, Mr. Norman stood his ground, wearing a mischievous grin. It was clear that if I didn't act quickly, he'd be stabbed for sure.

Without hesitation, I threw a punch straight into the man's face with my Neo arm. He went hurtling through the air and collided with a nearby wall, his body slumping to the ground, unconscious. The force of the punch had caused him to lose several teeth, and he was bleeding profusely from both his nose and mouth.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you senile old fool?" I shouted in frustration, my anger boiling over due to his reckless behavior.

"Ah, geez, stop shouting in my ear. I may be old, but I'm not deaf," the old man remarked nonchalantly, a hint of annoyance in his expression. "Why should I fear these troublemakers when I have three strong bodyguards like you guys, anyway? Try not to kill them.", he told us with a shrug like these things don't concern him.

Sometimes, I couldn't help but wonder if Mr. Norman was genuinely smart or just prone to reckless behavior. On one hand, he displayed cleverness by setting a trap and providing precise commands. Despite me being the captain in name, he often took full charge in critical situations, and his decisions often proved \often very useful. However, on the other hand, he also had moments of plain recklessness, leaving me to question what was going on inside his head.

As I contemplated this, the others who had accompanied the man with the switchblade locked eyes with us, their expressions wide-eyed and shocked. Some even had beads of cold sweat forming on their foreheads, likely due to the astounding spectacle they had just witnessed. It was understandable; they had seen one of their own soaring through the air and crashing into a solid wall. The scene was enough to petrify anyone.

Finally, one of them managed to muster the words, "Kill these bastards," and the rest promptly charged toward us.