Kamugay Road, Cornalian Region 1700 Hours
It had rained for the past few days. The muddy road was a problem for the transports, and progress was slow. Soldiers of the Cornalian Defense Forces were hauling an important cargo. Their destination: the nearby city of Huntersville.
A sergeant riding at the back of one of the trucks lit a cigarette. He was relieved that the rain had finally stopped. But his short break was cut short when a private approached him. He noticed the truck had come to a full stop.
"What is it now, Private?"
"The lead truck is stuck, sir!"
"What!?" The sergeant leapt from the truck and went to check.
Sure enough, the lead vehicle was mired in the mud. The sergeant sighed and called some of the soldiers over to help.
There had been rumors about rebel activity near Kamugay—the path their convoy had taken. The sergeant knew it was dangerous, but orders were orders. The alternate road was inaccessible. They had no choice.
Five soldiers, along with the sergeant, began pushing the truck. The engine roared in protest, spinning tires against wet soil.
This is not good, the sergeant thought.
He stopped pushing and told the driver to kill the engine. They had to hurry—night was coming fast, and the road was getting darker by the minute.
The sergeant made his way to the truck with the radio operator. Inside, he found the operator already speaking with a nearby HQ. He didn't interrupt and waited until the call ended.
Afterward, the sergeant spoke. "Sir, the commander wants us to arrive ASAP."
"ASAP? Is he out of his mind?" the sergeant replied.
"Yes, sir. He wants to ensure the package is safe and delivered within two hours."
"Two hours!?"
"Yes, sir!"
The sergeant was annoyed. The commander was expecting them to move like Halo Express, a civilian delivery courier.
"Tell the man we're barely halfway to Huntersville. The mud is killing our progress. He'll have to wai—"
A loud explosion rocked the scene. The lead truck had been hit by an RPG.
Gunfire erupted from the surrounding forest. The soldiers fired back, returning fire toward the treeline. The sergeant and the radio operator ducked inside the truck for cover.
With his rifle clutched tightly, the sergeant peeked from inside. Enemy fire was accurate—soldiers fell one by one.
Moments later, the gunfire went silent.
"Stay here," the sergeant told the radio operator, then crawled beneath the truck.
He heard footsteps—rebels boarding the vehicles one by one.
"There's nothing here!" one of the rebels shouted.
"Look harder. The package should be here!" a voice barked—likely the rebel leader.
The sergeant knew what he had to do. He had to defend the cargo at all costs.
Peeking from under the chassis, he spotted the rebel leader. A middle-aged man with a scar across his face. Smoking a cigarette. Barking orders.
That must be Enrique Gomez. If intel was correct, he was one of the most wanted men in the region. A bounty of 5,000,000 Mints was placed on his head. The Federal Internal Affairs Bureau of the Oceanic Union had even placed a 20,000,000 Honors reward for his capture or death.
The sergeant took aim. He had one shot.
He pulled the trigger.
The bullet struck something—but not Gomez. A translucent shimmer flickered mid-air. An anti-kinetic barrier. Microdrones.
The sergeant froze in disbelief.
They have that tech?
"No!" he shouted, unloading the rest of his magazine toward Gomez. A few of the rebel's aides went down in a spray of blood.
As he reloaded, a fast-moving biomech weapon lunged from the darkness.
Two hound-like creatures, each the size of a grown dog, bit down on his left arm. One grabbed his weapon.
He screamed as they dragged him from beneath the truck. Enrique stepped forward and delivered a brutal kick to the head.
Darkness took him.
---
Valhalla Limited Headquarters – Camp Citu, Cornalian Region 1000 Hours, 2 Days Later
Andrew Rowley sat in the briefing room with his squadmates. They were part of Valhalla Limited's Special Task Force, also known as the Black Hounds—black ops operatives for hire.
As the air-conditioning unit hummed in the background, the door opened.
Their commanding officer entered.
He wore an eyepatch on his left eye, his uniform crisp and immaculate. His presence alone made seasoned veterans sit straighter.
"Greetings, gentlemen," he said.
"There's no need for formalities—you all know me as Colonel Gray. I'll be briefing you on your next assignment."
The screen at the front of the room flickered to life. Aerial footage of a wrecked convoy appeared. Bodies of soldiers lay scattered. The trucks—aside from the lead vehicle—remained intact. The lead truck was little more than a blackened husk.
"Our partners in the Cornalian Defense Forces have asked for our assistance," Colonel Gray explained. "Two days ago, at 1700 Hours, a convoy was ambushed along Kamugay Road. The rebel faction led by Enrique Gomez has claimed responsibility."
As the colonel spoke, Andrew leaned slightly toward Sergeant Tanya Petrenko, his squadmate—and unofficial off-duty companion. Tanya, sharp-eyed and cool as always, returned his glance with a subtle smile and tapped her finger toward the screen, reminding him to focus.
Andrew smirked, suppressing a chuckle, and turned his gaze back to the colonel.
Colonel Gray noticed. He cleared his throat and fixed his one good eye on Andrew.
"Is there a problem… Lieutenant?"
"No, sir," Andrew replied. "Just wondering about the motive behind the attack."
"They claim the Cornalian Defense Forces were intruding on rebel-held territory," Colonel Gray said. "Nothing new. Terrorists will always twist their cause to justify violence."
He paused.
"Any more questions?"
Tanya raised her hand.
"You mentioned Enrique Gomez, sir. Is our mission directed at capturing him—or are we being sent for something else?"
Colonel Gray held up a hand. "I'll cover that shortly, soldier. Be patient."
He turned back to the screen.
"The convoy was said to have been carrying an important cargo. Our clients are offering a generous reward for its retrieval. Also, we cannot ignore the opportunity regarding Enrique Gomez. Taking him out will earn bonus compensation for our esteemed operators."
The idea of a bonus had Andrew fired up. Valhalla Limited always paid well, but this? This could pad his wallet nicely.
Colonel Gray continued, "Remember, gentlemen, we're not dealing with ordinary rebels. Intel suggests Gomez's faction has high-end tech supplied by black market sources and unknown sponsors. This mission will not be a cakewalk."
Tanya's expression shifted slightly. Colonel Gray caught it.
"Is something the matter, Sergeant?"
Tanya responded, "Any intel on who might be backing Gomez's faction, sir?"
"As of now, our partners have no concrete leads. Gomez's group is new. We can't start pointing fingers at foreign powers or rogue states without evidence—that would create diplomatic nightmares. For now, we stick to what we know."
"Understood," Tanya said.
"Any further questions?"
"None, sir," she replied.
After the briefing ended, Andrew remained behind to read through additional materials. He was no analyst, but he tried to understand the broader picture.
When he finally left the room, he nearly collided with two familiar figures.
Mikhail Alekseev, the team's level-headed sniper, gave him a knowing look. "Late-night reading, or late-night rendezvous?"
Peter Foreman, the squad's demolitions expert and resident wiseass, added, "Don't answer that. Tanya's new bun gave it away."
Andrew groaned. "You two ever run out of commentary?"
"Today's the day, Andrew!" they said in unison.
"No... not today, guys..." Andrew replied, mentally exhausted.
"Just a few drinks. Nothing too fancy," Peter teased.
"Fine... but only a few bottles. Whose birthday is it, anyway? And the drinks aren't on me, are they?"
As the three walked off, Tanya caught up and smirked. "Care if I join, boys?"