Prologue - The Black Storm (2/2)

Three hours, that's how long he has been fighting these guys. Three long hours with no rest, always moving lest he be quickly encircled and with nowhere left to hide, using every trick he knew to have one over his adversaries.

If one were to look at the way he was still moving and fighting they wouldn't even know it, but Storm was exhausted. He had lost track of how many died in these three hours already.

He was pretty sure he killed the entirety of the first Platoon already, having checked their bodies and mental counts, but more and more reinforcements seemed to come out of nowhere, and he was running out of options little by little.

He was out of grenades, and bullets, and his knife had lost its edge almost two hours ago. He had resorted to scavenging the bodies for their arms and to resupply.

Taking a deep breath behind the fallen oak, Storm's eyes shot open, and he rolled to the side.

Not a second later shots destroyed the place he had been resting.

Shit, he was getting slopier, this time they found him in under five minutes, not nearly enough time to rest and staunch his wounds.

No matter how skilled he was, there was a limit to what he could do, after fighting for so long Storm wasn't able to dodge in time of a few attacks. A bullet grazed his side, a sharp knife cutting along his arms, the one that hurt the most was a bullet that punched straight through his leg, thankfully it didn't hit any bones.

But it made running a pain and slowed him down enough to be caught again.

Pushing himself upright, he sprinted forward, using the trees and darkness to his advantage. While many tried to shoot him, he already memorized the area as he was running away, so he could move through the terrain with relative ease while the others had trouble.

Storm heard another sound. One which made things a lot more complicated. A chopper was inbound.

He grinned. This is exactly what he had been waiting for.

Light flashed right on top of him, and Storm allowed himself to relax as guns from many sides were pointed directly at him.

Thirty-seven men are currently in position to kill him. With no cover in sight, a chopper following his every move, and almost no ammunition, Storm had finally met his back against the wall.

They slowly trudged towards him, all stopping at about ten meters away, a bit further than normal encirclement would, but they most likely knew that he was out of bullets, coming closer would be an invitation to be stabbed.

It was tense, before a voice broke out "The Black Storm," coming from the helicopter. Storm could barely see an old man dressed in clothing he had never seen before.

It was black, except he had another white shirt beneath it. There was also a strange bandana wrapped around his neck that fell on top of the middle of his shirt.

What weird armor, wasn't it too thin? Or was this man a civilian? Dumb question, he definitely wasn't a soldier.

The chopper had touched down, but its lights never left him,

The old man with the weird get-up from before stepped out of the line of soldiers, which they opened up for him, moving out of his way.

Was this old man someone of higher authority? Then why wasn't he wearing something more protective? Whatever, not the time to think about it.

"You have been a legendary figure for quite some time you know?" His Russian was strong, and Storm could barely understand what he was saying, but he did get the gist of it.

His only response was to stare blankly at the man.

The old man seemed to shrug, in a 'What can you do?' manner, before smiling even wider. "You know, the current regime is terrified of you? A man with more than five thousand confirmed kills, estimated unconfirmed ones go over ten thousand."

Storm simply continued to stare, buying for time, just a little bit more.

"Still don't feel like talking I see. C'mon now, what's a killer like you doing fighting a meaningless battle for those insignificant pests?" He was taunting, but Storm could also hear the beginning of irritation in his voice. Since he refused to speak the old man was begging to lose patience in whatever it was he was trying to do.

Storm still needed just a little more time.

"Paid, I work." While he could understand, his vocabulary in Russian was much worse, to the point where he was pretty sure no one could understand him.

"Aha! So, he does talk, good, very good." Alright, just buy time, these types of people love to listen to the sound of their voices. "So, they paid, and you worked no questions asked? My what an honorable Mercenary we have here!" The old man's laugh was raspy, and mocking.

But it was enough, the plan was done.

"How about it then, want to do a job for us? I promise ten times whatever insignificant sum of money those pests promised to give you. If you don't, then it doesn't matter, my boys over here will take care of you." The old man looked way too smug, as if he was on the top of the world.

Perhaps from his perspective he was, after all, Storm knew how valuable his work was, it was why he was so secretive, never staying in the same place and only taking jobs through a trustworthy broker who barely knew him.

Well, time is up, he didn't need to buy time anymore. Explosions began to ring out over the forest. Some were nearby, others far away, but they all rang at the same time.

And one explosion was directly below the chopper, which sent the vehicle into a fiery explosion. Its blade flew off to the sides and sent half of the soldiers into the ground.

He had been waiting for this since three hours ago.

News of a battle up north had made circles around the countries, how hundreds of aerial vehicles had been dispatched, which meant that every other providence far from the fighting had to give up most of their aerial power force. This chopper was the only one in a hundred miles.

Storm had anticipated that a chopper could be called with the reinforcements, so as he ran around the forest area for the last three hours, he made sure to go back to the clearing and acquire as many timed C4s as he could.

Fun fact, choppers are ridiculously difficult to land, you can only land them on large areas of flat terrain, or risk breaking the thing. In other words, if he kept on running around the areas he planted the bomb, the flat wide clearings, chances are a chopper would set down.

And his guess was right on the money. With the chopper out of the equation, the other members of UHLA had nothing to worry about, without aerial transportation they would not be found, nor would anyone catch up to them.

"What have you done?!" Huh, maybe that weird clothing had some protection, cause the old man was still alive and kicking, he also didn't see any worse for wear.

Didn't matter, sprinting forward and ignoring the way his body screamed in pain, Storm was soon upon him, slamming the man on the ground, a blunted knife ready to sink into his neck.

"W-why? Why go so far for fucking nobodies?!"

Storm paused, why indeed?

Why would he try so hard to save them? It made no sense, for the last ten years since he survived the ship sinking and had been found by a gang who taught him everything he needed to know, he had never once sacrificed himself for others.

When given money, he would kill who he was asked to kill, gun down who he was asked, and transport whatever someone wanted to be transported.

Oh yeah, this had been his first rescue mission.

In the ten years he had been fighting, not once had Storm rescued someone, it was always missions to kill, always missions to raid, always something that would just hurt everyone.

But this time.

"Thank you, for giving me the chance to see my daughter again."

At that, Storm only smiled at the old man, and pushed forward, his blade sinking into the old man's neck before whispering "Felt good, helping others."

Bullets flew, but the pain was welcoming.