Chapter 11: Fall dead

Alone in the room, Richard heaved, his gaze directed towards a nondescript corner. A minuscule lens blinked discreetly for a fleeting moment. Addressing the room, he inquired, "Jaya, did you capture everything?" Jaya's melodic voice reverberated within the confines of the space, "Of course, master. Would you prefer me to apply the usual filters to your words before relaying it to the misses?" A small chuckle escaped Richard, a subtle sense of relief evident in his demeanor. "You know me better than I know myself, Jaya. I would appreciate that, thank you." Jaya responded promptly, "Very well, sir. Will do."

As they pressed forward on Kreeloria, Adam led his team toward the beacon where the cargo survivors were supposed to be. The distant echoes of gunfire had long ceased, creating an eerie silence in the air. Adam barked out orders with authority, "Keep your eyes open. They couldn't have gone far. Search for clues."

The team, on high alert, surveyed the scene. The ground was littered with bloody bodies – both Kreëls and three humans. Mitchell and Lila Chen had fallen victim to the relentless assault, their lifeless forms hidden beneath a macabre of blood and gore. A third individual, concealed among the bushes, was discovered by Reina during her search for additional clues.

"Captain, I think we have a problem," Reina called out. Adam approached, his expression darkening as he took in the sight of the fallen individual. "Heads up, guys. We are not alone, and it seems our rescue mission has turned into a hostage situation. Damn mercenaries," he declared, signaling his crew to regroup.

Moving away from the gruesome scene, Adam directed his team to advance, each member preoccupied with gathering any available clues about the recent confrontation. Murmurs circulated within the group, questioning what might have befallen the missing individuals. As the team progressed, Reina maintained a vigilant eye on the fallen mercenary – dressed in green armor, a crude imitation of the Ferrets' distinctive attire, complete with a scarf and a metallic mount mask in place of a full helmet.

A few kilometers away, the sounds of bustling activity filled the air as a camp was hastily erected. Voices melded together in a symphony of cooperation as people worked tirelessly to settle in. Amidst the commotion, a figure rose from the ground, donning a skull-shaped mask, and let out a deep sigh of frustration. "I swear, I'm not paid nearly enough for this nonsense," he muttered under his breath as he trudged toward the gathering.

Over by the campfire, Grayson's voice rang out, brimming with defiance, "You can't do this to us! We won't be imprisoned like animals. Don't you realize who we are? The expedition team will track us down, and when they do, you'll regret this!"

The tension in the air was palpable as the standoff between Grayson and the unknown captors intensified. With each word spoken, the stakes grew higher, and the resolve of both sides hardened.

In the dimly lit confines of the makeshift camp, tension hung thick in the air as the mercenary known only as Edward Quincy, or simply "Q," stood before the captive research team. His skull-shaped mask obscured his features, adding an eerie aura to his imposing presence. With an air of indifference, Q surveyed the group, his gaze lingering on each member with a mixture of disdain and detachment.

"You lot are in quite the predicament, aren't you?" Q's voice echoed hollowly from behind his mask, devoid of any warmth or empathy. "Trapped in the wilderness, at the mercy of forces beyond your control. It's almost poetic, wouldn't you agree?"

The researchers exchanged uneasy glances, their faces etched with fear and frustration. Among them, Grayson stood tall, his expression hardened with determination despite the dire circumstances. "We wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for your meddling," he retorted, his voice tinged with bitterness.

Q merely chuckled, the sound muffled by his mask. "Ah, always quick to assign blame, aren't we? But let's not dwell on the past. We're here now, and I have a job to do." With a casual flick of his wrist, he motioned toward the restrained researchers. "And it seems you lot are part of my assignment."

As Q spoke, tension simmered beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment. The researchers, feeling the weight of their predicament, exchanged terse whispers among themselves, their voices laced with frustration and uncertainty.

Grayson, however, refused to back down, his gaze unwavering as he locked eyes with Q. "What do you want from us?" he demanded, his voice tinged with defiance.

Q's lips curled into a sardonic smirk beneath his mask. "Oh, nothing much," he replied casually, though his eyes gleamed with a hint of malice. "Just a bit of information, perhaps a few favors here and there. You know how it goes."

The researchers bristled at Q's nonchalant attitude, their anger bubbling to the surface. "You think you can just waltz in here and demand whatever you please?" one of them snapped, his voice quivering with suppressed rage.

Q's laughter rang out, a hollow sound that reverberated through the tense atmosphere. "My dear friends, I don't think anything. I simply do what I'm paid to do," he replied coolly. "And right now, that involves dealing with the likes of you."

In the tense silence that followed Q's taunts, the researchers found themselves on edge, their nerves frayed by his unsettling demeanor. Q, ever the provocateur, continued to toy with them, each barbed remark digging deeper into their wounded pride.

"You know, it's fascinating what one can learn when they bother to pay attention," Q mused, his voice dripping with condescension. "Take you, for instance," he pointed at Grayson, "the brilliant strategist who led his team into a trap. Quite the commendable feat, wouldn't you say?"

Grayson's jaw clenched, his frustration mounting with each passing second. "You think you're clever, don't you?" he shot back, his voice laced with venom.

Q chuckled, unfazed by Grayson's defiance. "Clever enough to know that knowledge is power, my dear boy," he replied cryptically. "And right now, I hold all the cards." Danny got pissed by his attitude and just spit on him," Fall Dead." the spit landed on his shoes. Q just shrugged his shoulders and looked at her nonchalantly." Cute." before hitting her with a mean hook, making Danny's vision blur on impact. 

As Q's interrogation continued, he deftly navigated the delicate balance between intimidation and manipulation, exploiting the researchers' vulnerabilities with surgical precision. With each calculated jab, he peeled back the layers of their defenses, unraveling the tangled web of secrets and insecurities that bound them together.

"And you, my dear Dr. Novak," Q turned his attention to Elara, his tone tinged with amusement, "quite the promising young geneticist, aren't you? Pity about that little mishap with the experimental serum. Such a shame to see all that potential go to waste."

Elara's face paled, her eyes widening in shock at Q's brazen mention of her past failures. She opened her mouth to protest, but Q cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Ah, but enough about the past," he declared, his gaze sweeping over the group. "Let's focus on the present, shall we? I believe you have something I need."

The researchers exchanged uneasy glances, their minds racing as they struggled to comprehend the gravity of their situation. Q's inscrutable demeanor only added to their growing sense of unease, his motives shrouded in mystery.

As Q pressed them for information about the serum, memories of their failed escape attempt resurfaced, haunting them like specters from the past. They recalled the chaos and confusion, the desperate scramble for freedom as they fled into the wilderness, only to be ambushed by the relentless Kreëls lying in wait.

And then, in the chaos of the pursuit, Lucas had been snatched away, torn from their grasp by the ravenous jaws of a Kreël. The memory sent a shiver down their spines, a chilling reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows.

As Q's interrogation dragged on, the researchers found themselves grappling with their own guilt and regret, haunted by the specter of their past mistakes. And with each passing moment, they realized that their chances of escape were dwindling, trapped in a deadly game of cat and mouse with no end in sight.

Slightly before this predicament.

As the researchers fled through the dense foliage of Kreeloria, Grayson's desperate plan unfolded. With a makeshift sound bomb fashioned from the weapons Lucas and Mitchell carried, they hoped to create a diversion and gain precious moments of escape. Sacrificing their only means of defense, they triggered the explosive device, the deafening blast echoing through the wilderness. While doing so, Mitchell and Lila still got caught by one of the Kreëls who didn't get affected by the bomb. Grayson watched the moment unfold before him in agonizing slow motion. It felt as though time had slowed to a crawl, each second stretching out like an eternity. He felt an overwhelming urge to scream, to release the strange form of agony that gripped him, but instead, he found himself immobilized as Danny and Lucas knelt beside him. They offered silent support, their presence a comforting anchor amidst the storm of emotions raging within him. Grayson swallowed hard, burying his turmoil deep inside, knowing that he had to stay strong in the face of adversity.

"Heads down!" Grayson shouted over the roar of the explosion. "Move! Move! Up the hill!"

Heart pounding, they dashed uphill, their breaths ragged as adrenaline surged through their veins.

Unbeknownst to them, Edward and his squad lurked in the shadows, their advanced camouflage technology rendering them invisible to the naked eye.

From their vantage point, they observed the chaos unfolding below. As the researchers fled, Lucas was suddenly snatched by the lurking Kreël. His agonized cries were lost amidst the cacophony of the jungle. A grim silence fell over Edward's squad, punctuated only by a darkly humorous remark from one of the mercenaries, eliciting uneasy chuckles from his comrades.

"Did you see that? Poor bastard didn't stand a chance," remarked one of the mercenaries, a hint of dark amusement lacing his voice. Another subordinate approached Edward from behind, reporting, "Rodriguez hasn't returned from recon. Should we look for him?" Edward tilted his head sideways. "Nah, he didn't make it," he replied casually. The subordinate questioned, "How can you be so sure? We're leaving manpower behind." Edward sighed but didn't respond, continuing to move forward. One subordinate looked puzzled, while the other simply shrugged. "Word of advice: people like you die the quickest in this line of work."

Meanwhile, Grayson and the remaining researchers pressed on, their panic mounting with each passing moment. Amidst the chaos, Louie attempted to rally the group, his voice strained with urgency as he urged them to stay focused and keep moving forward.

"We can't stop now! Keep going! We're almost there!" Louie shouted, his eyes darting frantically as he scanned their surroundings.

However, their respite was short-lived as Edward and his squad materialized before them, their camouflage dissipating to reveal their menacing presence. Surrounded and outnumbered, the researchers stood no chance against the well-trained mercenaries, and their hopes of escape were dashed in an instant.

"Hands up! Don't even think about resisting," Edward commanded, his voice laced with authority as his squad closed in around the researchers.

As the mercenaries closed in, Grayson's mind raced with a mixture of fear and frustration. How had their carefully laid plans unraveled so swiftly? What had they missed? The bitter taste of failure hung heavy in the air as they were led away, their fate now in the hands of their captors. Grayson's mind truly thought that maybe blowing up the weapons where a truly stupid plan.