Venetian Red, Volume 2

 

Chapter 15 Brimstone girl wanna be merc

Panji recommended Nara to work with Kassandra. Why not? Someone needed to take care of her, in their twisted way. Plus, he was still holding onto that promise—the dead promise he made to her father.

 

Nara's dad had once been Panji's friend. On his deathbed, nursing wounds from battle, he had given Panji his last order: to take care of Nara instead of sending her off to her wealthy grandparents, who practically ran a nation. Sure, Nara's father had his ego issues and some serious father-in-law drama, but Panji, being the good comrade he was, reluctantly agreed. He was now tasked with guarding a living biological weapon and training her to be a mercenary. In Panji's mind, it sounded like a girl’s dream—at least he didn’t give Nara a weapon in pink.

 

In a dimly lit room, Panji broke the silence. "How are you?"

 

Nara, caught off guard, replied, "Huh? How are you? I'm fine. But you seem different... what happened?"

 

Panji stayed silent, his thoughts a mystery.

 

Nara, trying to lighten the mood, continued, "Okay... I won’t go fishing... but what about the work?"

 

Finally, Panji spoke up. "Mission accomplished... I just got 1 billion."

 

Svat, overhearing, jumped in with excitement. "Cool man... party time! Hahaa..."

 

Panji, unimpressed, asked, "Yeah... where's the robot you told me about?"

 

Nara realized the question and responded, "Oh... he's doing his duty in the garden."

 

Deciding to take a break, Panji announced, "Okay, I’ll go out for a while."

 

Later, Maria approached Panji, curiosity in her voice. "So... you’re the soldier Nara talks about? Mhmh... is there anything I can help you with?"

 

Intrigued, Panji asked, "Does she talk about me often?"

 

Maria smiled knowingly. "Oh, of course... she seems to idolize you, hehe... always mentioning Panji this and that."

 

Panji probed further, "What about you? I’ve heard your story with the owner of this place."

 

Maria’s tone turned somber. "Well... Beni has found his mother, and Salad seems to have earned his reputation as a responsible father. When Beni learned that his father was secretly planning an attack on Blackheart, it seemed like everything had a happy ending..."

 

Panji focused on Maria. "And you?"

 

Resigned, she answered, "I will be... fixed. When my body is destroyed, my owner will replace me..."

 

Empathy filled Panji's voice as he asked, "Do you accept that?"

 

Maria, with a hint of sadness, replied, "Hehe... we are programmed for that..." Like a broken record, she repeats the same phrase, Panji thought. Is this what the future holds for dolls? To be nothing more than a program, rewritten and replaced as needed?

 

Changing the subject, Panji asked, "What about Beni's mother? She must be a little annoyed with you, right?"

 

Maria acknowledged the truth. "You're right about that... Salad doesn’t talk to me anymore. The last time I saw Beni was only in the garden... I don’t play with him like I used to..."

 

Panji offered a solution. "Do you want a new job?"

 

Later, as Panji walked the streets, he spotted a woman with mechanical limbs, eating noodles near a sewer.

 

Trying to strike up a conversation, he complimented, "Hey. Nice hands..."

 

Phonix, unimpressed, shot back, "Hey... nice ears," and spat to the side.

 

Panji rubbed his ear, taken aback. "Ahh this..."

 

Finishing her meal, Phonix questioned, "I guess you're new here... I bet you don’t know who I am."

 

Curious, Panji asked, "Who are you?"

 

With a warning tone, Phonix replied, "Someone you don’t want to mess with..."

 

Just then, someone approached from behind Panji.

 

Patrick, the same dude in tower war. his hand hold the his sword on the scarbard in his hips, asked, "Is there a problem, boss?"

 

Phonix dismissed the situation. "Nothing... he’s just a lost tourist..." and they left.

 

Panji, reflecting on the city, murmured, "This city is very interesting..." the he reaches for a small vial of red potion and drink it

 

Later, he found Nara and Svat. "Nara, Svat... I've got two new jobs for us. The first mission is to guard a caravan. The second one is... a destruction mission. I think I’ll take the first one..."

 

Nara frowned, clearly unimpressed. "Guarding the caravan? That sounds boring. Why not take the second one?"

 

Panji, not in the mood for chaos, replied, "I’m... just not feeling the destruction vibe right now..."

 

Svat, sensing the need for a break, chimed in, "Ahh... well... maybe guarding the caravan is a good way to cool down after everything that’s happened."

 

Nara huffed, still dissatisfied. "Huh. I don’t want a boring mission."

 

In a moment of frustration, Panji slapped Nara's cheek.

 

Nara gasped, "Aahhh! What are you doing?!"

 

Realizing his mistake, Panji quickly apologized, "I... I’m sorry..."

 

Svat stepped in, trying to defuse the tension. "Whoa, whoa... calm down... what’s wrong, sir?"

 

Panji, attempting to make amends, offered, "Sorry... I’m okay. You can take the second mission..." He placed the document on Nara's bed before leaving.

 

Svat, concerned, asked, "What’s wrong with her?"

 

Nara rubbed her cheek, remaining silent.

 

At the border check of the Free Nation, some of region in there is drowned by sea rising, and to travel between region, they build a border bridge, its not serve for transportation but use to social mobility control.

 

a man named "P-1" a border guard approached Panji. He had an implant in his face that made his eyes glow red, giving him a somewhat intimidating appearance, yet he wore a white shirt like a regular officer.

 

"Surat please," P-1 demanded.

 

Panji handed over the document. "This..."

 

P-1 scrutinized the papers. "Two men, one woman, one dog, and one humanoid... are you sterile?"

 

Panji cleared his throat, discreetly offering some cash. "Make it on paper that she’s sterile."

 

P-1, clearly offended, gestured to his neck, mimicking a decapitation. "Sir, we are honorable border guards. If we are proven guilty..."

 

Panji, recalling the skull decorations he had seen in the streets, raised an eyebrow. "I know that... but is there a way around it?"

 

P-1 was firm. "She must be clinically proven sterile to enter. Otherwise, she will be separated in a place that... deserves it."

 

Panji sighed. "I see... is there really no other way?"

 

P-1 shook his head, returning the money. "Nope. By the way, here’s your money back."

 

Defeated, Panji took the cash. "Alright..." He left, deep in thought about his next move.

 

He glanced at Nara, who looked confused. "What?!"

 

With a plan forming, Panji asked, "Have you ever slept in a cargo?"

 

He then called Tharig about the next shipment to the Red Nation. Luckily, there was a truck heading that way on the same day.

 

In the back of the truck, Panji instructed, "Get in."

 

Nara hesitated, eyeing the large crates. "Huh?"

 

Panji explained, "This is your new home for about... 48 hours."

 

Nara, incredulous, asked, "What? What if I need to go to the bathroom?"

 

Panji, unfazed, handed her a bottle. "Use this."

 

Svat and Maria couldn’t help but laugh.

 

Nara, outraged, exclaimed, "Are you serious?! WUT?!"

 

Panji tried to reassure her, "Okay, just don’t let anything get lost. Food and water are in the bag."

 

He closed the door, sealing Nara's fate.

 

The driver, ready to go, asked, "Is it finished?"

 

Panji gave a thumbs-up, and the truck started rolling, carrying Nara off on her unexpected journey.

 

After smuggling Nara to the Red Nation mainland, they parted ways, and Nara began working with Kassandra. This shift took a weight off Panji's shoulders, allowing him to dive back into his adrenaline-fueled lifestyle, like any good GTA protagonist.

 

At the Red Light District

 

The neon lights flickered against the wet pavement, casting a surreal glow over the bustling streets. Panji leaned against a lamppost, a determined look etched on his face.

 

“Alright,” he muttered, glancing at Maria.

 

“Wait... I thought Nara was your girlfriend,” she teased, a playful smile dancing on her lips.

 

“Nope,” he shot back with a smirk. “I have... unique tastes. Keep an eye on her.” With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the night.

 

He knew someone who could use her unique skills, and it would also provide Nara with a purpose. He sought out Kassandra, contacting her through a secure channel. 'I have someone I want you to meet,' he said, explaining Nara's capabilities and Maria's analytical mind.

 

Kassandra was intrigued. A few days later, Nara and Maria found themselves on a transport to meet Kassandra, the details of their future still shrouded in mystery.

 

After smuggling Nara to the Red Nation mainland, they parted ways, and Nara was met by one of Kassandra's contacts. She found herself in a spartan training facility, learning everything from hand-to-hand combat to advanced weaponry. Maria, ever the analyst, helped her master the intricacies of different weapon systems and tactical maneuvers. After several weeks of rigorous training and a few minor jobs to test her skills, Nara was finally ready for her first real mission.

 

Nara had come a long way since her days as a mere pawn in the game of war. Now, she was a mercenary, or at least, that's what she told herself as she adjusted the grey bodysuit clinging to her like a second skin. Her hand rested casually on the hilt of the knife strapped to her thigh, a pose she’d practiced in the mirror until it looked effortlessly cool. Short, practical black hair framed a face that was slowly losing its youthful softness, replaced by a sharper, more determined edge. Player was a strong word, she thought, maybe intern with potential for advancement was more accurate.

 

 

 her first job involving the smuggling of weapons to the warlords of Eurasia. Under the watchful eye of Maria, her doll companion, Nara navigated the treacherous waters of the black market with surprising finesse. Maria, with her uncanny ability to analyze situations, quickly identified loopholes that allowed Nara to skip mundane tasks and leap into more lucrative opportunities.

 

After spending what felt like 24 hours in internet cafes for an entire week, analyzing countless data streams and secure networks,  Maria approached Nara, a glint of digital excitement in her eyes. “I found a broker for you, Nara…”

 

Nara. This one’s a big deal—a Mongolian warlord known as the Phantom Priest. He operates from a high tower in the neon-lit city, and he’s looking for someone with your... unique skills.”

 

Nara raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s so special about this Phantom Priest?”

 

Maria smirked. “He’s the real deal. He has a bio-implant that makes him a natural fighter. But he’s also a bit of a traditionalist. He thinks machines are better than flesh.”

 

As Nara prepared for her meeting with the Phantom Priest, she felt a shift within herself. The girl who once hesitated at the thought of violence was gone. In her place stood a woman hardened by experience, ready to embrace the cold-blooded nature of her new life. She had learned to adapt, to survive, and to thrive in a world that demanded ruthlessness.

 

As they approached the towering structure, the city lights flickered like stars in a synthetic sky. The Phantom Priest, a figure clad in a white mask, greeted them with an air of authority.

 

“Why would I need a woman with flesh when I have dolls that can do the job just as well?” he questioned, his voice smooth yet chilling.

 

Maria leaned in, confidence radiating from her. “Because she has character. When the war breaks out, high-ranking officials will need humans, not just robots. You need someone who can think on their feet.”

 

The Phantom Priest’s gaze sharpened. “You have keen eyes. Very well, here’s her mission: a traitor from the Red Nation has captured a high-ranking member of the state. Nara can join the mission, but if she fails... well, you know the consequences.”

 

Maria nodded, her expression serious. “She’s not just any girl. She’s mature beyond her years. I assure you, she’ll deliver.”

 

Later, as the mission unfolded, Nara found herself working alongside a team of assassins. One of them, a man named Oboro, wielded an anti-material rifle with a casual confidence. “Your job is to attract attention and hold on until we finish. Don’t let their backup catch up,” he instructed, his tone matter-of-fact.

 

Nara nodded, determination etched on her face. “Got it.”

 

They arrived at a high snowy peak in the Himalayan mountains, where a building housed the high-ranking criminal they were after. This was Purple Nation territory.

 

Along the way, they passed numerous temples showcasing a mix of religions. You could see Buddhist and Hindu deities sharing space, and even Jesus and Spider-Man stood together with Ganesha. The group of assassins, including Nara, struggled to hold back their laughter while traveling with civilians on a local bus, trying to blend in.

 

“Hah. Damn those neo-age folks,” Alexis, the female assassin, muttered, covering her face with a decorative veil, a nod to the region's culture.

 

As they prepared for the assault, they disembarked from the bus and changed into their advanced bodysuits. Alexis smirked at Oboro. “You’re going to get her killed.”

 

Oboro kept his binoculars trained on the surroundings. “Job is a job. One danger for another is beauty for some.”

 

Nara stood at the crossroads between the prison and the barracks, feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety. Chaos erupted inside as the assassins executed their plan. Oboro took down guards from his sniper perch, while the others, equipped with jetpacks, soared over the high walls, dispatching enemies with precision.

 

Meanwhile, Nara remained at her post, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. “Just stand here like a dumb hoe,” she muttered to herself, rolling her eyes at the absurdity of it all.

 

As the alarms blared, Alexis and the assassins burst into the cell, confronting a man named Wraith, who was engrossed in a game. “Hey, it’s time to leave!” Alexis shouted, pinching her nose at the smell.

 

Wraith looked up, surprised. “It’s time, huh?”

 

With the alarm ringing in their ears, the assassins escorted Wraith out, but chaos ensued as guards flooded the area. Nara received a message from Oboro, urging her to hold the reinforcements at bay.

 

nara took cover behind a cluster of jagged rocks, her pulse quickening. She activated her thermal vision, scanning the approaching reinforcements. Spotting a patrol moving towards a blind spot, she triggered a series of small explosive charges she had planted earlier, creating a diversion that drew the guards away from the main breach

 

“Time to earn my keep,” Nara said, adrenaline surging through her veins. She took cover behind rocks and trees, using her surroundings to her advantage as she engaged in a fierce firefight.

 

The battle raged on for nearly half an hour, with Nara holding her ground. Just when things looked bleak, Alexis and the assassins hijacked a truck, making a daring escape with Wraith. They sped down the mountain roads, the thrill of the chase electrifying.

 

In the midst of the chaos, they slammed into some idols statues in the street. “Watch the car!” Oboro shouted, firing at their pursuers. Meanwhile, Alexis, gripping the wheel, shot back, “Shut up! I know what I’m doing... and screw those statues! Heh.”

 

As they reached their hideout, Wraith vanished into a launch pod, Nara blinked, watching the pod ascend with a whoosh. "Well, that was anticlimactic," she muttered.

 leaving Nara and the assassins to catch their breath. Alexis turned to Nara, respect shining in her eyes. “You did good out there.”

Alexis clapped her on the shoulder, a grin spreading across her face. “You did good out there, kid. Held those reinforcements back like a champ.”

Nara shrugged, a faint blush creeping up her neck. “Yeah, well… I just, uh… stood there mostly. And shot some guys. It wasn’t that big a deal.” Inside, however, a warm glow of pride was starting to spread. Maybe this mercenary thing wasn't so bad after all. As long as she didn’t have to do any more awkward goodbyes.

Time passed, and Nara transformed into a cold-blooded independent woman. Meanwhile, Svat fell in love with AI VR technology thanks to companying maria all of time now he addicted, retiring early to become an internet café keeper.

Chapter 16 turning point

Panji hopped off his bike, the plate cheekily reading “Awsom.” The engine's roar faded into the background, replaced by the lively sounds of the streets around him. He took a moment to catch his breath and looked up at the sky, where the sun was setting over the Watery Grave, casting long shadows across the half-submerged city.

 

Despite the waterlogged mess, life was buzzing here. Makeshift platforms acted as roads, connecting the elevated walkways that rose above the murky depths. People moved with purpose, navigating their new reality. In the distance, hovercrafts and giant drones zipped by, their whirring engines contrasting with the rundown buildings around them. These flying machines served as taxis, ferrying folks from one tower to another, showing how resilient the city's inhabitants were.

 

The vibe felt surprisingly upbeat, especially with the two biggest gangs, James and Blackheart, no longer around to cause trouble. The locals seemed to breathe a little easier. New installations popped up on the towers, including a massive Red Nation monitor blaring typical entertainment for everyone, its bright colors flickering against the dimming sky.

 

As Panji strolled toward Tharig’s bar, he passed a thin figure cloaked in shadows. The man, Alam, was flanked by two wanderers acting as his bodyguards. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and there was a shared understanding of the city’s rough-and-tumble nature. Panji felt a flicker of recognition, but it slipped away like water through his fingers. "Eh, must be the wind," he muttered, shaking off the feeling as he moved on.

 

Stepping into the dim light of Tharig’s bar, the familiar scent of stale beer and smoke hit him. “Hello there, jackass,” Tharig greeted him with a smirk, leaning casually against the bar.

 

“Yo… so who’s that?” Panji asked, lowering his red shades for a better look, curiosity piqued.

 

“Just a merc like you, looking for weapons. An amateur. I told him to try a different store,” Tharig said, raising an eyebrow with a hint of amusement. “Anyway, ready for the job?”

 

Panji sighed, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on him. The mystery of the man lingered in his mind, but he dismissed it for now, focusing on Tharig instead. He was used to dealing with shady characters, but something about today felt off. The job was the best distraction from the intricate and complex search for meaning that had been gnawing at him lately.

Meanwhile, in a beach mansion adorned with a giant Red Nation flag—once the White House—a man known as Wraith lounged in a leather chair, a VR headset strapped to his head. He was a bulky figure, his presence both commanding and unsettling. His secretary, a sharp-eyed woman in a crisp suit, introduced Panji and Tharig when they entered his office.

 

Tharig received the documents without a word, nodding along as Wraith remained absorbed in his virtual world. But as they left, Panji stole a last glance at Wraith, a sense of dread settling in his gut.

 

“Damn… what is that guy?” Panji asked, curiosity piqued.

 

“Kingpin. A Zion mentor, some say. Others think he’s just another weirdo in this messed-up world. Rumor has it he escaped from shangri laa prison—or even that he’s immortal,” Tharig replied, still focused on the documents.

 

“Rumors… alright, don’t speak about rumors. What’s the job all about?” Panji stopped walking, turning to face Tharig.

“Simple money. Send weapons to rebels. Make them rely on our market. Go boom boom,” Tharig said, a glint of excitement in his eyes.

“That’s pretty morbid… alright,” Panji nodded, the heaviness of their task settling between them.

As they walked on, a strange feeling washed over Panji. It was as if they were being watched. He glanced around, but the feeling lingered like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

“You feel something?” he asked, uneasy.

“Just the usual paranoia,” Tharig replied, though his tone hinted at doubt.

“Better we start to port now,” Panji insisted.

“Right,” Tharig agreed, but his eyes scanned their surroundings, trying to find the source of Panji’s discomfort.

Later, aboard a cargo ship laden with weapons, Panji stood guard while Tharig assumed the role of captain. The ship rocked gently on the waves, a stark contrast to the tension that crackled in the air. Tharig had forbidden Panji from seeing inside the cargo, insisting it was classified, leaving Panji to wonder what secrets lay hidden within.

But as the day wore on, a storm brewed on the horizon, dark clouds rolling in like a predator stalking its prey. The ship began to sway, the cargo shifting with the tumultuous waters. Panji rushed to tighten the straps, his movements frantic.

Suddenly, a cargo door creaked open, revealing a syringe glinting under the dim lights. Panji’s heart raced as he recognized it—a precision dose, an antidote to a fungi outbreak. Memories of the Third World War flooded back, tales of devastation caused by a similar outbreak.

“What is this?!” Panji exclaimed, spinning to face Tharig, who had just stepped into view.

“Damn it, Panji! What the fuck are you doing? It’s a highly secret cargo! We need to escort it, not open it!” Tharig’s voice was sharp, his calm demeanor faltering.

“No… answer me first,” Panji demanded, gripping the doorframe.

Tharig clenched his jaw, clearly unprepared for Panji’s persistence. "It's a shipment of highly sensitive… uh… therapeutic stress balls," Tharig stammered, avoiding Panji's gaze. "For a very… Special client. They… uh… help them… cope. With… existential dread. Yes, that's it."

“Special client? Don’t give me that crap. What’s so special about this ‘antidote’?” Panji pressed, refusing to let go.

After a tense exchange, Tharig sighed heavily. “Alright… it’s about preparation for World War Four. The Red Nation plans to use a massive fungi outbreak, and only their allies will get the dose. Happy now?”

“What?!” Panji blinked in disbelief, the reality crashing down on him.

Tharig rubbed his temples, frustration evident. “Look, I’m not supposed to say much. But it’s important. A lot of people would kill for that stuff. Including the Reich.”

“What the fuck? What do neo-Nazis have to do with this? Are they your allies now?” Panji’s voice was laced with disbelief. The ghosts of the past are never truly buried, he thought, they just find new bodies to inhabit.

“Ally? Hell no. But they’re always looking to buy anything that gives them an edge. This antidote could be a game changer. We have to deliver it without anyone knowing.” Tharig’s voice dropped as he glanced around, lowering his tone. “If word got out, every damn faction would be after us.”

“Then let’s ditch this cargo. Let them fucking die when the war breaks out!” Panji’s anger surged as he drew his pistol.

“Woah, woah, hold up,” Tharig said, raising his hands defensively. “You got it all wrong, man. This isn’t about choosing sides. This is about business. If we ditch this cargo, we lose clients, our reputation… everything.”

“You lost your way, Tharig! They slaughtered our families in the past!” Panji shouted, his voice echoing in the chaos of the storm.

Tharig’s expression hardened. “Don’t you think I know that? I lost people too. But we can’t keep living in the past. We’ve got to look to the future. This cargo is what’s going to ensure us a future.”

“Fuck… Wraith… forget it. Just say some pirates stole it,” Panji suggested, desperation leaking into his voice.

“Are you serious? You want us to say pirates stole it?! That’s a death sentence for both of us,” Tharig replied incredulously. “And what about the Reich? You want to deal with their wrath when they can’t get the antidote?”

“I lost my damn childhood to them. Do you think I’ll just help them like nothing?” Panji’s grip on his pistol tightened.

Tharig’s voice dropped to a low rumble. “You think I’ve forgotten? You think I haven’t gone through hell myself? We can’t change the past. All we can do is survive, and live to fight another day. If that means making deals with the Reich or anyone else, that’s what we gotta do.”

“Then why are you betraying your own people?” Panji raised his pistol, the tension crackling between them.

“I didn’t betray anyone! I’m doing what I have to survive, what we all have to survive in this Godless world! Now put down your damn gun, man,” Tharig shot back, his hand hovering near his own weapon.

After a long pause, Panji clenched his jaw and said, “I’ve been Kassandra’s dog for years waiting for my revenge. I don’t give a damn about the Reich. I… I pick my way.”

Tharig studied Panji, disbelief etched on his face. “You’re doing this all for revenge? You’re willing to throw away your life, your future, everything, just for payback?”

“I don’t give a damn about money. I’ve been dead for years!” Panji replied fiercely.

Tharig’s laugh was bitter. “You’re a crazy son of a bitch, you know that? You want to trade your life for revenge against the Reich? You think that’s gonna bring your family back?”

“Just… lower your gun, man. I don’t want to lose another family. We will find a way,” Panji's voice softened, his resolve wavering.

Tharig stared at him, the tension palpable. Finally, he sighed and lowered his weapon. “Fine… I’ll lower mine, but you damn well better do the same. We’re not gonna solve anything by killing each other.”

“Good…” Panji took a deep breath, relief washing over him.

“Listen, we’re in a tough spot here. The Reich won’t forget about that cargo. They’ll come after us. They might not even believe our lie about pirates taking it,” Tharig cautioned.

“I’ll talk to Kassandra. She’ll back us up,” Panji replied, hope flickering in his chest.

“Kassandra? Are you serious? You think she’ll be willing to help us?” Tharig’s eyes widened.

 “I’ve worked with her for a long time. She’ll help me… or I’ll bash her smirk on her own desk,” Panji replied nonchalantly, a hint of defiance in his tone.

Tharig chuckled darkly, a begrudging respect creeping into his voice. “You’re a bold one, I’ll give you that. Fine. Go talk to Kassandra. But if she says no…” He let the threat hang in the air, his gaze unwavering.

“Good. So let’s ditch this to the sea.” Panji’s eyes flicked to the cargo, determination hardening his resolve.

Tharig nodded, moving toward the cargo hold. “Alright, let’s get this done and out of the way. The quicker we get rid of this, the better.” He signaled to his men, and they sprang into action, preparing the cargo for jettison.

Later, at a secret port, the ship was docked. Panji turned to Tharig. “Alright, you just stay low until all is finished.”

Tharig grunted, arms crossed defiantly. “I know how to keep low, Panji. I’ve been doin’ this longer than you have.”

“Thanks,” Panji replied, the tension between them easing slightly.

Tharig waved a dismissive hand, a smirk creeping back onto his face. “Don’t mention it. I ain’t doing it out of the goodness of my heart, you know.”

“So, why are you doing it?”

Tharig’s smirk faded, replaced by a grim look. “Let’s just say I have my own score to settle. The Reich ain’t the only bastards I hate.”

Panji raised an eyebrow and smirked. “So… I clean your eyes, huh?”

Tharig chuckled, giving Panji a sharp look. “Don’t get too cocky, kid. My eyes have been clear for years. Yours are still clouded.”

 

later Panji stood before the White House, he dismount his bike.  the looming structure casting a long shadow over him. He had accepted his fate; he could die today at the hands of Wraith. To prepare, he strapped a bomb vest tightly around his torso, a drastic measure if things went sideways. With his heart pounding in his chest, he pushed through the ornate doors.

Inside, he was led to a room that felt more relaxed than the last. The walls were adorned with tiger leather wallpaper, and a sense of luxury hung in the air. Wraith sat behind a polished desk, his VR headset finally removed, revealing a man whose presence was both captivating and unsettling. On his back was a grotesque painting of a woman, her features twisted in agony.

“Mission failed,” Panji said, his voice steady even as his finger rested on the ring of the detonator. “The cargo was stolen by pirates.”

Wraith regarded him coolly, flanked by his bodyguards. “Well, that’s unfortunate. It’s okay.”

Panji blinked, taken aback. “What? You’re not angry?”

Wraith’s tone was flat, devoid of emotion. “For what? My anger won’t bring my cargo back. So, what happened to the ship?”

Panji cleared his throat, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. “It’s all stolen. They boarded the ship during the storm, and only a handful of survivors managed to flee.”

Wraith nodded to his secretary, who quickly relayed the message to others. Alarm bells rang in Panji’s mind. “What are you going to do?” he asked, trying to keep his tone calm.

Wraith smiled, but it was a smile that sent chills down Panji’s spine. “Retaliation.”

Panji’s heart raced, dread pooling in his stomach. After a tense pause, Wraith added, “You can leave now.”

Panji exited the White House, his mind racing. He checked his phone, and his blood ran cold. A message read: “Tharig’s port is blown up.” His eyes widened as he looked toward the southern sky, the direction of Tharig’s hidden port. Gritting his teeth, he knew what he had to do.

He rode to Tharig's house knowing his wife and child were still alive,later in elite complex which only rich people who had enough influence and money to can living along side with their family. He knocked on the door and left a bag of money on the front steps before stepping back. At least this was something he could do for now.

With a heavy heart, he turned and rode off, determined to seek answers.

 

---

 

Panji hit the road to Arizona, passing countless ads urging folks to join the military—everywhere from the city streets to the desert, even plastered on the walls of nightclubs and Caesar temples. Finally, he parked his bike outside a bar lined with motorcycles, its entrance adorned with a picture of a woman riding a bike, complete with a Viking helmet.

 

Panji arrives at the bar, his movements sluggish, his eyes unfocused. He sits heavily at his usual spot, barely registering the bartender's greeting. He fumbles in his pocket, pulling out a small vial and taking a quick sniff before ordering his usual drink. The initial numbness gives way to a forced joviality as he tries to engage in conversation.

 

“Oh, look who’s here,” the bartender chuckled, sliding a familiar blood-red milkshake toward Panji.

 

“Heh, thanks,” Panji replied, taking a sip. “What’s new?”

 

“Depends on what you mean,” the bartender grinned. “What are you asking about?”

 

“About the crew,” Panji clarified, leaning forward.

 

“Things have been quiet since you left,” the bartender said, his gaze drifting to the wall adorned with faded photographs. “But…” He pointed at the pictures. “You know…”

 

Panji’s heart sank as he recognized the faces. “Robert... James... Layla... Cisco... and…”

 

“Ardo,” the bartender finished softly.

 

Panji closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the bittersweet memory. “I hope they’re resting in peace.”

 

“Of course,” the bartender replied, his voice heavy with understanding.

 

“I heard there’s something brewing in Siberia,” Panji continued, a flicker of intrigue sparking in his eyes.

 

“Ah, you’ll get yourself killed there,” the bartender warned. “This isn’t just another gang war; it’s going to be a bloodbath.”

 

“Is Vita upstairs?” Panji asked, changing the subject.

 

“Of course, cowboy,” the bartender replied, but a note of caution colored his tone. “Wait... don’t take her with you to damn Siberia. I’m warning you, Panji. Don’t take her from me.”

 

“She’s not a robot,” Panji shot back. “She has her own choices.” He walked away, leaving the bartender’s worried gaze behind.

---

 

In a small room upstairs, a woman strummed a guitar, her fingers dancing over the strings.

 

“Tadaaa... I’m back,” Panji announced, a grin spreading across his face.

 

Vita looked up, her brow furrowed. “Oh? What happened to your ears?”

 

Days later, Vita was busy fixing Panji's ear implants.

 

“You rely on painkillers too much. They mean nothing if this isn’t fixed!” she said, smacking Panji on the shoulder after finishing the final operation.

 

“Hehe, yeah...” Panji replied, taking a sip of his beer.

 

Vita sighed. “You know how long you can keep this up? Sooner or later, you’ll become a borg. You'll start speaking in binary, developing an uncontrollable urge to organize everything into spreadsheets, and your ringtone will be the dial-up modem sound” She rubbed Panji's arm, half of which was made of composite implant.

 

Panji lowered his beer. “I don’t know... but I’d be cool with being a robot, right? Hehe.”

 

Vita rolled her eyes. “Fool. Those implants will alter your psychology too. You’ll become unstable... no longer human, just like those wind-up girls.”

 

Panji nodded. “Yeah, wind-up girls. That’s messed up. So, is my ear fixed?”

 

Vita confirmed, “Yes. This tech probably comes from Blue or White Nation, judging by its high-tech simplicity. The guy who put it on your ear was an amateur.”

 

Panji chuckled. “Yeah, just some alley doctor. What do we expect? Unlike you, the expert combat medic.” He winked at her.

 

 

Chapter 17 the Valkyrie

 

Later, Panji opened the garage doors, revealing a handful of people revving their motorcycles.

 

“Just like old times. Valkyrie, let’s ride... we’re heading west!” he called out, excitement bubbling in his chest.

 

A bulky man with full cybernetic arms spoke up.

 

“Ha! Is a motorcycle better than a horse or a camel, Panji?” Chrome laughed, his titanium teeth glinting in the light.

 

“It depends on the culture of the land,” Panji replied, a smirk creeping on his lips.

 

“HAH! You’re still the same, huh?” Chrome cackled.

 

“Not quite, Chrome. We’ve all changed. No one stays the same forever.” Except maybe you, Panji thought, looking at Chrome’s unchanging metal features. Are you more machine than man now?

“Sure, just like my teeth,” Chrome shot back, flashing his metallic grin.

 

Panji chuckled. “Yeah, you’re lucky. Cisco wasn’t so fortunate; his face got wrecked dealing with those corporate bastards.”

 

“True,” Chrome nodded. “Hey, who’s our friend in the arena?”

 

“Ahh... Brutus? He’s the champion now,” Chrome laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “That poor guy is so lucky!”

 

Vita, leaning against her bike, raised an eyebrow. “So, what’s the plan, macho man?”

 

“Kill Zion. Stop the war,” Panji declared, his voice steady but intense.

 

Vita and Chrome exchanged glances, the weight of his words sinking in. Vita’s expression turned serious. “Roger that... It’s good to see you again, Panji... with a new motivation.”

 

“Of course, dear. Let’s finish this,” Panji replied, determination burning in his eyes.

 

But Chrome couldn’t help but add, a hint of cowardice creeping into his tone, “If you’re embarking on a journey of revenge, they say you should dig two graves first.”

 

Panji nodded solemnly, the weight of his quest settling in. The roar of engines filled the air as the Valkyrie motor gang, led by Panji, sped through the neon-lit streets, ignoring red lights like they were mere suggestions. The thrill of the ride coursed through him, a rush he hadn’t felt in too long.

 

“Hey Vita, where’s Techno’s workshop?” Panji shouted over the thunderous noise of their bikes.

 

Vita, her wild hair streaming in the wind, shot ahead. “HAH! You’re such a slowpoke! Follow me!”

 

“I haven’t been in this city for ages—everything’s changed!” he called out, trying to keep pace.

 

Suddenly, the peace of their ride shattered as two SUVs barreled onto the scene, ramming into the Valkyrie gang.

 

“WUT?! Who the hell are these guys?” Chrome yelled, swerving to avoid a collision.

 

The SUVs continued their relentless assault, sending one of the Valkyrie riders crashing into a nearby alley.

 

“NO, JACK!” Chrome shouted, his heart racing. Anger surged through him. “You’ll pay for this, you bastards!” He drew his gun while still riding, firing shots at the SUV, the adrenaline fueling his aim.

 

“THEY’RE SHOOTING AT US!” Vita screamed, her eyes wide.

 

“Damn it! Everyone scatter!” Panji barked, veering off in a separate direction. The gang split, each member fighting to evade the oncoming threat. One SUV pursued Panji and Vita, while the other chased Chrome and his crew.

 

The SUVs opened fire, bullets ricocheting off the surrounding buildings. “Scatter!” Panji yelled, dodging a stray shot. The Valkyrie split, each rider improvising their escape.

Panji and Vita took a sharp turn into a narrow alleyway, narrowly avoiding a collision with a pile of trash. “Sorry, pal!” Panji shouted to a startled bum who scrambled out of the way.

Meanwhile, Chrome rallied his crew. “Come on, guys! Surround them!” They charged at the SUV, smashing the windows with their weapons. Chaos ensued as they fought, managing to take down a few of the occupants. After an intense struggle, the SUV crashed, the driver slumping lifelessly over the wheel.

 

“Get out! Now!” Chrome growled, drawing a heavy chain from his belt.

 

 

 

Back with Panji, he ducked into a secluded alley, panting heavily as he pulled out his phone. The screen lit up with Kassandra’s name.

 

“Ahah... you bastard. What are you going to do? Send in the troops?!” he hissed into the phone.

 

“Hmm? What are you talking about, darling? This isn’t my doing... and no, we aren’t sending troops. Let the public judge,” Kassandra replied, her voice smooth yet chilling.

 

“Ah, of course—public opinion,” Panji scoffed.

 

“Think this through... why would I want to trap you? You’ve worked hard for me. Look, if you still trust me, meet me at Triple Tower.”

 

“Ha! Triple Tower? Why don’t you just pick me up and we can talk face to face?”

 

“Ahaha! What if you try to trap me later?” she teased.

 

“This conversation is going nowhere,” he snapped.

 

“You know where to find me... bye!”

 

“FAK!” Panji cursed, throwing his phone against the wall before picking it back up.

 

Vita rolled her eyes. “What did you expect? You destroyed her shipment; of course, she wants you dead.”

 

“It’s... more complicated than you think. I’ll explain later,” Panji replied, frustration leaking into his voice as he pocketed the phone.

 

Vita raised an eyebrow but continued leading the convoy. “Here we are... Techno’s place.”

 

Panji dismounted and pounded on the garage door. “Hey, Techno! Wake up! Hey!”

 

A small monitor flickered to life beside the door.

 

“Hey, dude... use technology, don’t bring violence to my place,” Techno’s voice crackled through the speaker.

 

“Wait a minute. Panji? Hohoh... Thought you were fertilizer!”

 

“Yeah, I thought the same,” Panji replied, a mix of relief and nostalgia flooding through him.

 

They arrived at Techno’s workshop, a chaotic space filled with wires, screens, and half-finished gadgets. Techno, a wiry man with goggles perched on his forehead, greeted them with a wide grin. as he examined Panji's broken phone, his fingers deftly working to fix the device. “Well, that’s an interesting story,” he remarked, glancing up at Panji. “I’ve got access to the phone lines.”

 

“I owe you one, man,” Panji replied, trying to dial out but only getting static. “Damn…”

 

Vita leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a frown creasing her brow. “I don’t like this. Maybe I should go find the others…”

 

Just then, the garage doors swung open with a loud clatter. Chrome and a couple of other Valkyrie members stormed in, dragging a man bound in chains.

 

“Wow, wow! What are you maniacs doing?” Techno exclaimed, raising his hands. “I told you, I’m not part of Valkyrie anymore! I’m on the scooter gang now! If you want to do your dirty work, don’t do it here!”

 

“Come on, Four-Eyes, this is an emergency!” Chrome shot back, urgency etched on his face.

 

“Alright, Iron Jaw,” Techno replied, his tone serious. “But I don’t want any blood in my shop. Clean it up and make sure there’s no smell!”

 

“Hoho, this isn’t the time for jokes,” Chrome snapped, pulling the man into another room. “Panji, we’ve lost Jacky, Vudi, and Chuck.”

 

“Damn…” Panji rubbed his face, frustration building.

 

 

 

Later, Techno handed the repaired phone back to Panji. “Here’s your phone.”

 

Panji took it eagerly, but when he dialed, his heart sank. “Hey, Maria?… Damn. It’s not working.”

 

“Where are your friends now?” Techno asked, concern flickering across his face.

 

“In Canada…”

 

“Oh, that’s why,” Techno replied, smirking. “It’s not your phone that’s broken, idiot. They’ve set up a jammer.”

 

“Fak! How am I supposed to reach them? They’re hundreds of kilometers away… Damn, what if they’re walking into a trap?”

 

Vita raised an eyebrow, skepticism playing in her voice. “So, who are your friends, Panji?”

 

Panji sighed, launching into the story. “They’re just a couple of lost kids I felt sorry for…”

 

“Let me summarize,” Vita interrupted, her voice dripping with disbelief. “You brought two lost kids along because you felt sorry for them? What kind of nonsense is that? If you really had sympathy for them, you should’ve told them to stay away from you, idiot.”

 

Panji raised his hand in defeat. “Yeah…”

 

“Is the drama done? Can you two get out of here already?” Techno grumbled. “I’m allergic to low IQ people.”

 

Vita shot back, “You’re one to talk, Techno. Why’d you leave the gang?”

 

“Hey, I love to ride,” Techno said, shrugging. “Everything was fine when our gang was just a riding fan club. A little fighting here and there was no big deal… but then everything changed when the psycho veterans showed up…” They brought the real war home, he thought, their minds broken by battles fought in faraway lands, now turning their skills on their own people

 

“Wow, Techno—” Vita began, but Panji interrupted.

 

“Sorry, Techno…”

 

“Sure, Red Devil, you should’ve said that ten years ago. It’s too late now. I’m a scooter gang member now! BLUE AZURE!” Techno raised his arms triumphantly.

 

Panji and Vita exchanged a glance, both unsure how to respond.

 

 

 

Then Chrome returned, his hands stained with blood. “Hey, check this out!” He opened his palm to reveal a small robotic grasshopper.

 

“Let me see that…” Techno leaned in, examining the robot under his microscope. “Hey… damn, cool!”

 

“Look at this on the monitor, guys,” he said, pointing at the screen.

 

The monitor illuminated, displaying a complex robot with various camera lenses embedded in its frame.

 

“Spy robot?” Vita asked, her eyes widening.

 

Techno connected the robot to his computer. The monitor flickered to life, displaying a series of maps and schematics. “These are… interesting. They’re targeting key infrastructure points within the Red Nation… power grids, communication hubs, even water purification plants.”

Panji leaned closer. “Why?”

Techno pointed to a highlighted area on one of the maps. “This region has seen a significant increase in gang activity lately… mostly ex-Red Nation soldiers. It looks like someone’s planning to destabilize the region, create chaos.”

Vita’s eyes widened. “Setting the stage for… a rebellion?”

Techno nodded. “Exactly. And with the Red Nation’s recruitment problems… they’re vulnerable.”

Chapter 18 The Summit of Deceit

 

“I hope Nara is doing alright, wherever she is…” Panji thought while riding on his bike, a flicker of concern crossing his mind. He remembered the promise he made to her father…

 

Meanwhile, in Canada, Nara had joined a brigade filled with deranged and mentally unstable individuals known as the Bastard Brigade. This was another one of Zion's tactics to break the stalemate in combat. They were used for sabotage missions or to carry flamethrowers into enemy territory—a risky job, but it paid off.

 

Nara, with her twisted sense of pleasure, saw this as an opportunity to stand out among the crazies. Little did she know, she might actually belong to their level of madness. She wanted to prove something; she craved attention. That’s what she craved. Too bad her attention was focused on the wrong person—Panji

 

The towering skyline of Triple Towers loomed ahead, three colossal structures reaching for the sky. Chrome shook his head, a smirk on his lips. “TT… heh, what a ridiculous name for a den of thugs.”

 

Panji narrowed his gaze. “Yeah, well… are you sure about this? It could be a trap.”

 

Chrome shrugged, glancing at the other Valkyrie members. “We could die with you or without you, so…” He took a deep breath. “Death is all that lies ahead.”

 

Panji nodded, determination set in his eyes. “Alright, let’s do this.”

 

 

The lobby was stark and sterile. A brooding guard stood at the entrance, arms crossed. “Only three can enter. All weapons must be left here.”

 

Chrome chuckled, unstrapping his arsenal with a flourish—chains, knuckles, three pistols, a sawed-off shotgun, a machete, and grenades clattered to the floor. “Heh… did you think I’d bring my entire arsenal?”

 

“Did you forget your automatic rifle?” the guard quipped, unimpressed.

 

As they neared the elevator, they encountered the Steel of Angles gang. Tension crackled in the air as they exchanged glances,they are the rival gang, but then moved on without uttering a word.

 

“Maybe only one of us will die,” Chrome mused with a grim smile as they crowded into the elevator.

 

 

 

The elevator dinged as it reached the top floor. They stepped out into a lavish office, where a woman sat behind an imposing desk, dressed in a military-style suit. Her white hair framed a face that was both striking and formidable.

 

“Ohh… finally, you’ve arrived,” Kassandra purred, a sly smile curling on her lips.

 

“Kassandra, my love,” Panji replied, feeling a mix of relief and tension wash over him.

 

She tapped her fingers against her lips, listening intently as Panji recounted their harrowing journey. “Only a few have access to the technology you mentioned… the White State has it.”

 

“Yeah…” Panji said, his brow furrowing.

 

Vita leaned forward, curiosity piqued. “Wait. So you’re not mad at us?”

 

“Not at all. This might be our fault too. We’ve heard rumors of rebellion in the south for some time. But… sigh… we’re about to start a war with neighboring countries. Zion thinks spreading this news will hurt morale,” Kassandra explained, her tone grave.

 

“Okay, what about those who were chasing us? And why did we run into the Steel of Angles?” Panji pressed.

 

“I don’t know who’s after you. As for the Steel of Angles, I only told them not to get involved,” Kassandra replied, her tone curt.

 

Vita crossed her arms, skepticism etched on her features. “So you’re here trying to fix things?”

 

“HA! Of course! That’s my job. What do you think I am?” Kassandra shot back. Panji thought to himself, 'She talks about fixing things, but it feels like she's just rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic.

 

Chrome interjected, “But something smells fishy here… what’s with the news on TV?”

 

“Good question. All news in this country originates from California. Everything that comes in is monitored by the Free World Council,” Kassandra explained, her voice steady.

 

“Oh, really? But the convoy incident took less than a day to broadcast,” Panji noted, suspicion creeping into his voice.

 

“You’re right about that. There’s still a lot of mystery surrounding it. But for now, this is all I can tell you,” Kassandra replied, her gaze locking onto Panji. “And why are you still wearing that old patched jacket? What happened to your billion?”

 

“WUT?! One billion?” Chrome and Vita echoed in disbelief.

 

As they exited the office, Chrome turned to Panji. “Alright, buddy. You’ve got a story to tell us… you’re not poor anymore, are you? Your little village in Africa must have gold floors.”

 

“Yeah, that’s true… a lot has happened,” Panji admitted, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

 

“Why are you still here?” Vita pressed.

 

“That’s something I… really want to know the answer to,” Panji replied, his expression darkening.

 

 

 

Later, Panji’s phone buzzed, startling him. It was Techno. “Hey! Did you escape the witch’s grip? … Good. Meet me at the garage, quick!”

 

Vita sighed, rolling her eyes. “Very funny…”

 

 

 

At Techno’s garage, a sense of urgency filled the air. “I found a link in the robot we discovered yesterday,” Techno said, excitement bubbling in his voice. “I posted it on a forum, and people have been spotting similar robots in the sewers and on rooftops.”

 

“Hey, wait a minute… what forum?” Panji asked, brow furrowed.

 

“Internet, stupid!.. yes that old legend. I can access anything there. That’s why I have a higher IQ than… ‘Valkyrieee’,” Techno replied, grinning.

 

Panji sighed. “Why are they finding these things in sewers or on roofs?”

 

“Dunno, maybe the batteries died? Or they crashed? Oh, yeah, sometimes they hit car windows too,” Techno chuckled.

 

“How long have these robots been showing up?” Panji inquired.

 

“Well… the earliest post about these robots is around two years ago. They’re still pretty new… hot news,” Techno explained.

 

“Do we have any clues about where they’re coming from?” Panji pressed.

 

“Hmm… I don’t know. There are conspiracy theories flying around, even aliens, but I think that’s all nonsense. Not a single one of them has a real profile picture or bio,” Techno snorted.

 

“Oh really? What about your own account?” Chrome chimed in with a smirk.

 

“Hey! Only idiots reveal personal information online!, pokemun, facebik, they all goverment tools!” Techno retorted.

 

“Alright… hmhm…” Panji muttered, deep in thought.

 

Techno continued, “But I might just have a feeling… the posts about these robots seem to be centered around California, like Cascadia and Las Vegas. More people in those areas seem to have computers than elsewhere.”

 

“Of course…” Panji mused, piecing it all together. He thought, 'It's always the centers of power that cause the most trouble. Like those ancient cities, attracting all the wealth and causing all the problems

 

Vita chimed in, “So, are we heading there? Or do you want to see those two kids first, Panji?”

 

“Well… I’ll let fate decide,” Panji said, pulling out a coin. “If it lands heads, we go to California. If it’s tails, we head to Canada.”

 

“An excellent choice for a madman. Good luck,” Techno laughed.

 

“This is it,”

Panji flipped the coin into the air, watching it spin against the backdrop of uncertainty. As it landed, a vision flickered in his mind—an image of the iconic California skyline, bathed in sunlight.

 

“YES! Gambar!” he exclaimed, a grin breaking across his face.

 

Vita and Chrome exchanged glances.

 

“Um, so we’re going to California?” Vita asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Of course,” Panji affirmed, excitement bubbling within him.

 

 

 

Back at the Valkyrie Bar, the familiar dim light and the smell of stale beer were a welcome sight. Bart, the bartender, looked up from wiping down the counter. “California, huh? Heard you’re heading west. If you see the Red Highway, grab me a shot, will ya? That place is iconic. I’d love to hang a picture of it on the wall.”

Panji chuckled. “Sure thing, Bart. If I remember.” He slid onto his usual stool, a weariness settling over him despite the successful meeting with the Lord.

Later, as the bar emptied and the remaining Valkyrie members drifted off to sleep, Panji found himself alone with Vita. He rubbed the side of his head, a grimace twisting his features. “Damn implant’s acting up again.”

Vita’s brow furrowed. “Still giving you trouble?”

“Constant sting,” Panji muttered. “Worse since we left the Free World. Feels like it’s amplified out here.”

“That explains the… jumpiness,” Vita observed, her eyes narrowing. She reached into her bag and pulled out a syringe. “Hold still.”

“What’s that?” Panji asked, tensing.

“Something to take the edge off,” Vita replied, injecting him in the back of the neck before he could protest.

“Au! What the—?” Panji exclaimed, rubbing his neck. A wave of drowsiness washed over him.

“Night, Panji,” Vita said softly, covering him with a blanket.

The next morning, Panji stood before the cracked mirror in the back room, examining the faint mark on his neck. “Thanks, Doc,” he muttered as Vita passed by, already dressed and ready to go.

“Anytime,” she replied with a tired smile.

Back in the main bar area, Bart had the news on. A headline flashed across the screen: “Gang Boldly Attacks Council, Valkyrie Shooting at SUVs.”

Panji took a sip of his drink, a wry smile twisting his lips. “Well, looks like we’ve been framed.”

Chrome burst into the bar, his booming laughter echoing through the room. “Rise and shine, you sleepyheads! Eat! Drink! Get your fill of music and mayhem! Because tomorrow, we going to fucking hell!”

 

 

As they rode, the Valkyrie spotted a group of bald bikers in dark shades parked by the side of the road. The Steel of Angels.

 

“We’re not looking for trouble,” Panji called out.

 

“Of course… someone’s put a bounty on your head,” one of the Steel members replied.

 

“Oh? Who are they?” Panji asked, curiosity piqued.

 

“Don’t know… maybe Corp,” the Steel member shrugged.

 

“Come on… you want cash? Here…” Panji tossed a bag of money toward him.

 

“I don’t want your dirty money, man. We’ve got business that’s cleaner than yours. All I know is that someone reached out to one of my guys, offering 50,000 credits for your head.”

 

“Then take this 100,000 credits just for the info,” Panji said, tossing the bag again, satisfied.

 

“Hey…” the Steel member started, but the Valkyrie gang continued riding.

 

Vita shook her head. “I doubt Kassandra would set us up with such a small bounty. Hah!”

 

“Small or not, there are plenty of people willing to kill for 500 credits in front of us,” Chrome replied, glancing back at the road ahead.

 

“Yeah…” Panji muttered, lost in thought.

 

The sign reading “Farewell, Arizona” blurred past. Chrome sighed, a hint of melancholy in his voice “Goodbye, home. Goodbye, Grandma… huh.”

 

 

The gang took a break after navigating some treacherous mountain trails, parking their bikes near a cliff edge.Some of the Valkyrie members were busy taking pictures with their cybernetic eye implants, capturing the moment for their digital memories.

 

“Ahh, ahead is Iron Maiden territory,” Chrome announced, scanning the surroundings.

 

“WOMEN!!!” one of the Valkyrie members shouted, and laughter erupted around them.

 

“Huh?” Panji looked around, confused.

 

Vita smirked. “Oh, you don’t understand, do you? A lot has happened in this place since you’ve been gone.” She took a sip of her drink.

 

Chrome continued, “Long story short, there’s a mad scientist who sympathizes with the Redlight robots. He freed them, and now he’s got an army of robots.”

 

Panji burst into laughter. “Oh, I get it now. This place never gets boring.”

 

“Of course! The average life expectancy here is thirty! We’re all a bunch of old-timers!” Chrome joked.

 

“And that’s not even mentioning the Iron Maidens,” Vita added, taking a swig from her water bottle. “They’re… well, you’ll see.”

The gang continued riding, the landscape slowly changing from rocky desert to scrubland. They soon approached a roadside tavern, its parking lot packed with motorcycles. These bikes were different from the Valkyrie’s choppers – sleeker, faster-looking, with intricate paint jobs and custom modifications.

 

“Who are they?” Panji asked, eyeing the bikes suspiciously.

 

“Hellfire,” Chrome muttered, squinting at the emblem on the tavern’s sign – a stylized skull engulfed in flames. “Looks like we’re sharing breakfast with some pyromaniacs.”

 

“I want breakfast…” Vita said, her stomach growling.

 

“Alright, keep your attitude in check. We’ve got a long journey ahead,” Panji cautioned as they dismounted. As they approached the roadside tavern, its parking lot packed with motorcycles, Panji noticed a couple of sleek bikes parked a short distance away, their chrome gleaming under the afternoon sun. The riders, clad in dark bodysuits, remained motionless, almost blending into the shadows. He couldn't make out any insignia, but something about their posture, their stillness, made him uneasy. but he shrug it of. gang war is norm in red nation,

 

Inside, the tavern was dimly lit and smoky, filled with the smell of stale beer and burnt grease. A group of riders in red and black vests sat at a table near the back, their eyes fixed on the newcomers. Panji ordered a coffee and a plate of whatever the cook was serving. As he took his first sip, a burly man with a scarred face and a Hellfire patch on his vest approached.

 

“Hey… off to wander the wasteland, are we?” Hell, a burly man, sneered.

 

“Yeah, we’re not looking for trouble,” Panji said, taking a sip of his drink.

 

“Oh, is that so?” Hell spat on Panji’s plate, causing the rest of the Valkyrie to stop eating, their eyes narrowing.

 

“Listen, big man. How about I give you $50,000 to walk away?” Panji suggested, trying to diffuse the situation.

 

“Ahhh, and what if we take your money and your bounty?” Hell retorted, his smirk widening.

 

Panji’s patience wore thin. “Grrr…” He smashed the plate against Hell’s face.

 

“Listen up, everyone!” Hell yelled, standing on a table. “This guy’s got a bounty of 50,000 credit !”

 

“FUCK!” Chrome roared as the tavern erupted into chaos. Tables overturned, chairs splintered, and fists flew. The air filled with the clang of metal on metal and the satisfying thud of bodies hitting the floor. It was a full-blown bar brawl, and the Valkyrie were right in the thick of it.

 

 

Later, outside the Bar, chrome hold panji and help him walk outside. they all heavy bruised from brawl

 

Chrome glared at Panji. “You said to keep our attitude in check? My ass!”

 

“Yeah, well…” they pushed through the crowd to exit, but a couple of women in bodysuits greeted them outside.

 

“Bonjour…”a leader of group, maid, woman with brown wavy hair greet him

 

“Wait, let me guess: you’re Iron Maiden, right?” Panji adjusted his shades.

 

“We’re not here to hunt you. We’re here to escort you to our Lord,” one maid said nonchalantly.

 

“What if we refuse?” Panji asked, crossing his arms.

 

“You might have to walk to your destination, as…” she pointed at their broken bikes, “they won’t take you anywhere.”

 

“Fak. Is this your doing?” Panji asked, incredulous.

 

“No. While you were partying inside, someone else did that,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “So, hop on. Hellfire will be here soon.”

 

panji squint, and lower his red shade, thinking. these woman might had hidden camera all over the places

 

Panji exchanged glances with the others, then nodded. “Alright, we don’t have a choice. Move to the back, ladies.”

 

“Hell no. This is our bike, and you’re just passengers. Chop chop, time’s ticking,” she said, insisting.

 

“Fine, boys, swallow your pride,” Panji said reluctantly.

 

“Only you, Panji,” Chrome replied with a laugh as the rest of the Valkyrie climbed onto the Iron Maidens’ motorcycles.

 

“Ugh…” Panji sighed, then suddenly, Hell reappeared from the bar.

 

“You’re not going anywhere!” he shouted, drawing a gun.

 

“Hop in!” the maid yelled, and Panji jumped on just as they sped away from the tavern.

 

“Where are we going?” Panji yelled over the roar of the engines.

 

“Mansion,” the maid replied, her voice steady.

 

“Alright… who are you, and what do you know?” Panji pressed.

 

“Not the time for chit-chat. We have many eyes watching,” she said, glancing back.

 

 

As if summoned by her words, a roar of engines echoed behind them. A group of riders in crimson and black vests – the Hellriders – swerved into view, cutting them off.

 

“Hey! Wait a minute… Iron Maiden is riding with outsiders!” Hell shouted.

 

the man Panji had clashed with earlier.go outside of tavern, He pointed a greasy finger at Panji. “That’s him! The one with the bounty!”

 

“Fuck! That’s them! Chase them!” another Hellrider yelled while raise his chain on motorbike

 

“YEAH! Time to work, guys!” they cheered as they revved their engines.

 

She turned to Panji, her expression hardening. “I need you at the mansion. Now. But I can’t afford any more delays.” She pulled a submachine gun from beneath her coat and tossed it to Panji. "Make sure they can't follow."

Panji caught the gun, surprised. “You want us to…?”

“Disable their bikes. Tires only. No unnecessary casualties. Understood?” Her tone left no room for argument.

 

“You heard me. If you do, I’ll throw you and your dirty gang off the bikes,” she warned.

 

“Alright…” Panji signaled to the Valkyrie. “NO BLOOD!”

 

“Ha! Tell that to yourself, buddy. You’re the most psychopathic of us all!” Chrome laughed, adrenaline pumping.

 

 

“Shoot their tires,” she instructed.

 

“Alright,” Panji nodded, signaling the Valkyrie. “Wheels on fire!”

 

“Did you hear that, boys?” Chrome grinned, A brief but intense firefight ensued. Panji and the Valkyrie focused their fire on the Hellriders’ tires, expertly disabling their bikes without causing serious injuries. The Hellriders, caught off guard by the sudden aggression, scrambled for cover.

 

 

 

Panji looked back, seeing the Hellriders struggling to keep their bikes upright. “I think they’re out…”

 

“Good. Take the forest path,” the maid instructed, Once the Hellriders were effectively neutralized, the maid nodded to her own riders. “Let’s move.” She led them off the main road, taking a winding path into the dense forest.

The ride through the forest was rough, the bikes bouncing over rocks and roots. Panji gripped the sides of the bike tightly, wincing as they hit a particularly large bump.

 

“Wow! Isn’t there a smoother way?” Panji asked,

 

“Shut up,” she replied curtly, her focus unwavering.

 

“Women…” he muttered under his breath.

 

The maid didn’t respond, her eyes fixed on the path ahead.

Finally, they emerged into a clearing, revealing a sprawling mansion nestled among the trees. The maid dismounted, turning to the Valkyrie

. “Alright, when was the last time you all showered?”

 

“Uh… about three days ago,” Panji admitted sheepishly.

 

She sighed dramatically. “Go wash up before meeting the Lord.”

 

“Wow… you’re not my mother,” Chrome shot back, crossing his arms.

 

“And I wouldn’t want to have children like you,” she quipped, rolling her eyes.

 

Vita stretched, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Come on, boys. Are we a bunch of cats?” She yawned and added, “Can I borrow a towel too?”

 

“Ah, of course, darling… I’m genuinely surprised to see a woman in your gang,” the maid replied, raising an eyebrow.

 

The Valkyrie members exchanged glances, a realization dawning on them.

 

“Just like us,” Panji said, “This is the first time I’ve seen a gang that’s all women…”

 

The maid yawned again. “Chop chop. The Lord wants to meet you soon. Move your dirty backsides to the showers.”

 

“Sure thing,” Panji replied, heading inside with the rest.

 

 

 

“Sure thing,” Panji replied, heading inside with the rest.

A short time later, the Valkyrie emerged, smelling marginally less offensive. The maid, now looking crisper in a clean uniform, though still maintaining a casual demeanor, waved them down a hallway. “Alright, follow me. And try not to touch anything expensive.”

 

As they reached a heavy oak door, she stopped. “Only two of you can enter,” she then hold the golden door knob. “I don’t want the air inside contaminated.”

 

“Hey!” Chrome protested.

 

“Alright, three. I’ll go as the leader, Vita as the secretary, and Chrome as the general,” Panji declared, firm in his decision.

 

The maid raised an eyebrow. “You have a structure here? Interesting… Very well, you may enter.”

 

 

 

later after passing the long hall with red wall. they stepped into a large bedroom where an old man with long white hair lay on a lavish bed. He propped himself up as they entered.

 

The maid bowed slightly. “These are your guests, my Lord.”

 

“Please, come in,” he beckoned them, his voice gravelly yet commanding.

 

“Alright, let’s skip the pleasantries. What do you want?” Panji asked, cutting straight to the chase.

 

The old man smiled faintly, slowly rising to walk toward a small dining table in the room. “Before I tell you my mission, may I share the history of this place?”

 

“Fine, but I hope it’s not boring,” Panji replied, taking a seat. The others followed suit.

 

The Lord sighed heavily. “This was once part of the Free World—a Golden Mansion. Do you know what that means, boy?”

 

“I know the Golden Mansion. It was a place where nobles and politicians indulged in all their… high-class pleasures. And please don’t call me ‘boy’; my name is Panji.”

 

“Very well, Panji… After we became part of the Free World, all the women who were not sterile were sent to the farms, including my mother, the owner of this place. As the sole heir, I inherited it, but as you can see, nobody uses our services anymore. Now, we’re merely a gang hiding in a forgotten forest.”

 

“Okay… and what’s that got to do with us?” Panji asked, leaning forward.

 

“I dislike the Free World,” the Lord stated bluntly.

 

“Hey, aren’t we all in agreement on that?” Panji replied, crossing his arms.

 

“Yes, but you’re the one daring enough to start something,” the Lord continued, his gaze piercing. “You have a rebellious spirit greater than any of us.”

 

Panji rubbed his face, unsure how to respond. “Um… thanks?”

 

“Now, what do you want?” the Lord pressed.

 

“From your direction, I gather you’re heading west. Are you looking to go to the capital?”

 

“Alright…” Panji hesitated. “It feels like we’re being cornered by the media through the TV, and their headquarters is in California.”

 

“Ah, I see. But does that mean all the news is a lie?” the Lord asked, his curiosity piqued.

 

“Um… it’s half the truth, I guess…” Panji replied, his brow furrowing.

 

“Ah, well, it’s okay if you’re only half a rebel. I might be able to help you. It’s unfortunate if everything you do is merely a concoction of what’s on TV. But I have a feeling I can utilize you.”

 

“Huh? You’re pretty bold to say that to our faces,” Panji said, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Of course, but that makes it easier for me to be trusted, doesn’t it?” the Lord countered, a sly smile creeping onto his face.

 

“Understandable. What do you want from helping us? You don’t seem like the type who needs money,” Panji noted.

 

“Mhm… I’m sure there are plenty of gangs that will oppose you on your journey here. But there will also be many who sympathize with you. I want you to become an icon for them,” the Lord declared.

 

“An icon?” Panji echoed, skepticism evident in his voice. “And how am I supposed to do that?”

 

“Icon? Yes… that’s the right word to describe it. I want you to appear in the capital. This doesn’t mean you’ll create chaos there. Your mission is simple: let the people see you,” the Lord explained, his tone serious.

 

“See me? What for?” Panji asked, confused.

 

“To ignite hope among the people,” the Lord said, leaning closer. “You’re the spark they need, Panji. You can be the catalyst for change.”

 

The Lord’s smile widened. “You’ll have my support, and I can provide resources for your journey. Together, we can disrupt this so-called Free World.”

 

Panji took a deep breath, the gravity of their situation sinking in. “Fine. Let’s see where this leads us. But know this: if your intentions aren’t pure, I’ll bring my gang against you.”

 

“Fair enough,” the Lord replied, nodding his head in agreement. “Welcome to the beginning of a revolution, Panji.”

Chapter 19 Wind up mansion

 

The rest of the Valkyrie sprawled across plush red velvet couches in the mansion’s lounge. Gold trim lined the walls, creating an atmosphere of opulent decay. A half-empty bottle of amber liquor sat on a low table, testament to their earlier revelry.

One of the Valkyrie, his eyes glazed over, hiccuped. “So, these… ‘windup girls’…” he slurred. “What’s the deal?”

Another biker, slightly more sober, rolled his eyes. “You know. The ones they turn into… like, robot maids and stuff. For the rich folks.”

“Right, right,” the first biker mumbled, nodding slowly. “Human minds… robot bodies… drugs to keep ‘em happy.”

Behind the partially open door, one of the maids exchanged a knowing glance with another. “They’re letting loose,” she murmured. “The Lord won’t be pleased if they damage anything.”

Later that evening, after the Valkyrie had finally passed out, the maids quietly cleared the lounge, removing the empty bottles and straightening the cushions.

The next morning, Panji woke with a pounding headache. He groaned, clutching his head.

Vita, already dressed, looked down at him with a mixture of concern and amusement. “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” Panji mumbled, pushing himself up. “What time is it?”

“Time to move,” Vita said, gesturing towards the window. Outside, the Lord stood beside a rugged, military-grade Jeep, several Iron Maidens standing nearby, their motorcycles gleaming in the morning sun.

“Thanks,” Panji replied, appreciating the gesture.

 

“Oh, and some Iron Maidens will be joining you,” he added.

 

“Hey, handsome… I hope we’re not too much trouble for you,” one of the maidens teased, winking at Panji.

 

Chrome chuckled, “Heh! Not a problem at all… we could use some women around here. I can’t remember the last time we had any in our gang.”

 

“Hey!” Vita shot a glare at Chrome, crossing her arms.

 

“But don’t get it twisted,” the maid said, her tone serious. “We’re not here to be your lapdogs. We’ll be weapons in the fight.”

 

“Of course. I like strong women,” Chrome replied, his grin widening.

 

“Ehem! Alright, let’s get going,” Panji interjected, trying to bring order to the conversation.

 

“Oh, one more thing,” the Lord said, his expression turning grave. “There are hippies living in the mountains before you reach Los Angeles. They’re allies of sorts. They possess a rebellious spirit like yours. Just show your face, and they’ll know what to do. May God’s grace be with you.”

 

“Sure… you too. Valkyrie Maidens, let’s roll!” Panji shouted, pumping his fist in the air.

 

after Long pause. no one reply him

 

“Come on! Valkyrie + Iron Maiden… Valkyrie Maiden! Get it?” he added, trying to rally the group.

 

Chrome laughed. “Haha! Sure, genius. A 100% original name.”

 

“Fuck you! Valkyrie Maiden! Let’s roooooollll!” Panji shouted, leading the charge.

 

 

 

Later, on the Road

 

“Hey, I really don’t like the name Valkyrie Maiden,” one of the Iron Maidens said, crossing her arms.

 

“Yeah, me neither,” Chrome agreed, glancing sideways at Panji.

 

“Come on…” Panji protested.

 

“I also don’t like it,” Vita chimed in, her voice firm.

 

“Really? You too? Alright then, what’s on your minds?” Panji asked, frustrated.

 

“What if we called ourselves Red Summer, after the name of the mansion we joined?” the maid suggested.

 

“Red Summer isn’t a bad name, but it lacks vibe,” Panji replied thoughtfully.

 

“I see what you mean,” the maid said, nodding.

 

“How about… Maiden of Iron?” Vita proposed.

 

Both the maid and Panji shook their heads in unison. “NO.”

 

“Justice!” Chrome shouted.

 

“Huh? Justice?” Panji raised an eyebrow.

 

“It’s not a bad name,” the maid admitted, considering it.

 

“Yeah… a bit ironic, but it has a nice ring to it,” Chrome added, grinning.

 

“Fine! We’ll name our new group Justice!” Panji declared, feeling a surge of excitement.

 

 

 

Later, in the Joshua Desert, after a particularly bumpy ride

 

“Look at those trees!” Chrome exclaimed, pointing excitedly. “They’re so unique.”

 

“Of course. The hippies usually hang around here. We can head up that mountain for a better view,” the maid suggested.

 

“Hey, that was my line,” Panji remarked, crossing his arms. “But okay, let’s go to the mountain.”

 

“HA! What’s wrong, macho man? Don’t like it when a woman tells you what to do?” she teased.

 

“Listen, we might need a leader selection,” Panji said, trying to maintain his authority.

 

“What are you talking about? It’s clear you’re the leader… in Justice,” she countered.

 

“Ah, yeah… sorry. My head has been hurting lately…” Panji admitted, rubbing his temples again.

 

“Of course,” the maid replied, her tone softening.

then in The road to the mountain is a bit extreme. It’s better if we send some people ahead on bikes,” the maid suggested.

 

“Sure! Your bikes suit the rough terrain. From now on, you’ll be our scouts,” Panji said, nodding in approval.

 

“Were you in the military?” the maid asked, her curiosity piqued.

 

“Yeah, but please… can I borrow your bike this time?” Panji requested, a hint of desperation in his voice.

 

“Alright, General,” she teased, switching to the passenger seat. “Here.”

 

“Ahh, thanks!” Panji replied, revving the engine as they set off.

 

As they navigated the rocky path, trees suddenly fell, blocking their way. A group of people emerged from behind the rocks, armed with guns, arrows, and spears.

 

“Hey, riders! What are you doing here? Are you here to expand? Hehe… eat sand!” one of the hippies taunted.

 

“Not at all, man. Don’t you know who I am?” Panji asked, trying to keep his cool.

 

“Who are you? Michael Jackson?” the hippie shot back, his tone mocking.

 

Panji sighed, feeling exasperated. “You’ve never watched TV, have you?”

 

“Only crazy people watch TV…” the hippie replied dismissively.

 

“Red Summer…” the maid interjected, hoping to smooth things over.

 

“Ohhh… I get it. Iron Maiden. What do you want?” the hippie asked, his demeanor shifting slightly.

 

The maid quickly explained their situation.

 

“Mhm… it’s probably better if you head to the fort and meet Eden,” the hippie suggested.

 

“Sounds good,” the maid replied, nodding.

 

 

 

As they rode back onto the main path, they encountered a massive rock blocking the way.

 

“What is this? A secret door?” Panji wondered aloud.

 

“Of course. Say the magic words,” the hippie smirked.

 

“With God’s grace?” Panji offered, unsure.

 

“Eeeee… yeah, that works. But I want something more fitting for a heathen,” the hippie replied, grinning.

 

“Stop messing around…” Panji said, growing impatient.

 

“Wow, fine… look at this… ‘abra kadabra!’” the hippie exclaimed dramatically.

 

Suddenly, the rock began to shift, sliding aside to reveal a hidden passageway leading to a tunnel.

 

“Very original…” Panji muttered sarcastically as they entered.

 

 

 

They emerged into a stunning valley filled with lush greenery and a bustling encampment.

 

“Welcome to EDEN!” the hippie announced, spreading his arms wide.

 

As they stepped into this new world, Panji felt a rush of excitement mixed with uncertainty. Surrounded by the raw beauty of the valley and the promise of rebellion, he knew they were stepping into something bigger than themselves. They were not just a gang anymore; they were about to become a force to be reckoned with.

The sun hung low over the valley as the hippie turned to the group. “I’ll let Eden know you’re here. You can look around for a bit, but hey… don’t cause any trouble,” he warned, smirking.

 

 

 

After a quick scroll through the encampment, the Justice gang finally met Eden, an old woman with a wise face and a spirit that seemed to radiate strength.

 

“Hallo, children,” she greeted, her voice warm but firm. “We’ve heard your tale. It’s been a long time since we connected with the outside world. Ironically, our spirits are free, yet we are trapped by the system. That’s why we settled here.”

 

Eden paused, her eyes glinting with a rebellious fire. “But your story inspires us. Perhaps it’s time for the Free World to recognize the path of freedom… through violence. Bring some of our brave warriors with you. Let them taste victory!”

 

Panji’s heart raced. “Wow, of course, but may I ask something? What’s your connection to the Lord at Red Summer Mansion?”

 

Eden chuckled, a sound that echoed with unspoken history. “Ahh, dear. That’s a tale for another time… Until we meet again.” She reached into her robes and handed Panji a bracelet. “Give this to the Lord.”

 

 

 

Later, Panji wandered through the encampment, stopping at a marijuana greenhouse. The pungent aroma filled the air, making him grin.

 

“Uhh… it smells so strong,” Vita remarked, wrinkling her nose.

 

“Can I?” Panji asked, eyeing the plants with a mischievous sparkle.

 

“This is for health reasons, of course,” she replied with a wink. “It’ll help with our cancer rates!” She playfully punched Panji on the shoulder.

 

“Sure… health,” he chuckled, feeling lighter even as they prepared for their next move.

 

 

 

Day later, as evening fell, they gathered around a bonfire. The hippies began a wild dance, chanting in unison.

 

“HU! HU! HU! AHHH!! For the warriors… for justice! To the gates of NIRVANA!!!”

 

The Justice gang exchanged bewildered glances, unsure how to react.

 

“Culture…” one of the Iron Maidens said, nodding slowly.

 

They all nodded in agreement, still trying to make sense of the scene before them.

 

 

 

The Next Morning, As they prepared to leave Eden, a hippie approached Panji. “Will you hold this honor?” he asked, offering a ceremonial stone.

 

“Sure,” Panji sighed, rolling his eyes. “Abracadabra…”

 

Suddenly, the rock began to seal the entrance behind them.

 

“Why are the words to open and close the same?” Panji asked, confusion clouding his thoughts.

 

“Hey, this isn’t Aladdin!” the hippie shot back, laughing.

 

“Understandable…” Panji muttered, shaking his head.

 

“Of course. Say the magic words,” the hippie smirked. He walked over to a nearby bush and pulled back some vines, revealing a small, rusty lever hidden beneath. With a grunt, he pulled the lever down. A low rumble echoed through the valley as the rock began to slide aside,

 

“Very original…” Panji muttered, but he couldn’t deny the impressive effect.

 

Later, as they prepared to depart, the maid spoke up. “I can send one of the maidens to deliver the bracelet to the Lord.”

 

“No, I’ll do it myself when we return from California,” Panji insisted.

 

“Very well, amigo,” the maid replied with a nod.

 

With that, Justice rolled out onto the highway, a convoy of jeeps, motorcycles, and hippie vans rolling together in a display of unity.

 

 

 

At a small town, the day began quietly, with just a few folks stirring. A single windup girl swept the store, her movements mechanical yet graceful. Suddenly, the calm shattered as Panji's convoy rolled in, kicking up dust and excitement. The windup girl paused, her stoic expression shifting as she spotted the maid among the newcomers.

 

“Ahh, sister!” she exclaimed, lighting up and waving enthusiastically.

 

The maid, removing her bike helmet to reveal her wavy brown hair, rushed forward and embraced the windup girl. In that moment, a sense of unity blossomed among the windup girls, a bond forged in shared experiences.

 

As the convoy came to a halt to gather supplies, a shopkeeper looked up, his face breaking into a wide grin. “Hey, I know you! You’re the one from TV!”

 

Panji lowered his red shades, a smirk playing on his lips. “Of course. You’re not going to raise the prices, are you?”

 

“Hell no! I’ll even give you a discount!” the shopkeeper exclaimed, excitement bubbling in his voice.

 

“Thanks!” Panji replied, feeling a swell of gratitude.

 

“Are you heading to LA?” the shopkeeper asked, curiosity glinting in his eyes.

 

“Yeah, I want to teach a lesson to whoever made that mess,” Panji said, pointing at the TV. “A rebel group spotted in the desert!”

 

The shopkeeper nodded vigorously. “So, what’s the plan after LA?”

 

“Maybe smash a few monitors?” Panji suggested, his tone light and playful.

 

“What about Zion’s army?” the shopkeeper pressed, concern creeping into his voice.

 

“Not sure… I haven’t thought that far ahead,” Panji admitted, the weight of uncertainty settling in.

 

“Oh, you’re really reckless, huh? But you’ll be a hero someday. We still hold a grudge against Zion here,” the shopkeeper said, determination shining in his eyes.

 

 

Later after resupply, the Justice convoy approached a bridge and spotted some children playing nearby.

 

“stay away boys!,! Justice arrive!” the maid called out.

 

But as the lead convoy began to cross the bridge, a sudden explosion rocked the structure. Most of the bridge remained intact, but several vehicles plummeted over the edge.

 

“Fuck! What’s happening?!” Panji shouted, his heart racing.

 

“The kids!” the maid yelled, panic rising in her voice as they realized the front of the convoy was now isolated from the rest.

 

“Hey, Panji! Vita fell into the river!” Chrome’s voice crackled over the radio, urgency lacing his words.

 

“WHAT?!” Panic surged through Panji as he looked toward the swirling water below.

 

“VITA!” Panji screamed, his voice raw with panic. He scrambled to the edge of the bridge, his breath catching in his throat. The river churned below, a maelstrom of debris and swirling currents. He strained his eyes, searching for any sign of her, but only saw the twisted wreckage of vehicles disappearing beneath the surface. His stomach twisted into a knot of dread. He gripped the crumbling edge of the bridge, his knuckles white, the world suddenly feeling cold and empty. He didn't hear the hippie approach until a hand touched his shoulder.

 

“Listen,” the hippie said, his voice steady. “We can join the others after they take an alternate route. It’ll take half a day or maybe even two days… assuming the other routes aren’t controlled by another gang.”

 

“Let’s check on those kids first,” he suggested, his voice firm.

 

“Sure. They ran off that way,” the maid replied, pointing down a narrow path.

 

The hippie gave a signal to the convoy on the other side. “Alright, let’s go.”

 

With the rest of the convoy beginning to turn around in search of an alternate road, only five members of Justice remained with Panji as they started to follow the trail left by the children.

 

“Maybe Vita is still safe…” Panji muttered, a flicker of hope in his heart.

 

“I hope so too,” the maid said quietly.

 

“Sorry to ruin the mood, guys,” the hippie chimed in, “but I didn’t see Vita come up to the surface after she fell…”

 

 

 

After a while, they stumbled upon a small camp near the river.

 

“This might be where the kids are hiding,” the maid suggested, scanning the area.

 

“Are we going to do this?” the hippie asked, drawing his pistol.

 

The rest of the gang looked at Panji for direction.

 

“Uh… let’s try to catch the kids first. We don’t know what’s going on yet,” Panji decided.

 

“Of course,” the maid agreed, her hand hovering near her weapon.

 

“Look! There’s a small path leading down the cliff,” Panji pointed out.

 

 

 

They crept closer to the camp. Suddenly, a few children bolted in fear, but then cautiously peeked out from their tents.

 

“Hello, kids… did you blow up that bridge? Come on, tell us!” the maid called out, starting to remove her belt.

 

 

 

“Uh… what were you doing up there?” Panji asked, trying to maintain a firm tone.

 

“Stay back!” one of the boys shouted, pulling out a knife.

 

“Rick, don’t…” another boy urged.

 

Panji stepped forward, exasperated. He slapped the boy’s arm away, forcing the knife down. “Move aside, kid…”

 

The gang searched the camp but found nothing of interest.

 

Some of the boys began to cry, fear etched on their faces.

 

“Listen, what were you doing up on that bridge?” Panji pressed, kneeling down to meet their eyes.

 

The hippie rubbed his head in frustration.

 

“Hey, what’s this?” Panji asked, grabbing a necklace from one of the boys.

 

“Don’t! Give that back!” the boy shouted, desperation in his voice.

 

Panji examined the necklace, which contained a small insect robot tied together with string. “Where did you get this?”

 

“It’s none of your business!” the boy shot back defiantly.

 

Panji felt anger bubbling within him, but he caught himself and took a deep breath.

 

After a heavy sigh, he pulled out a few bills and handed them to the boy. “Sorry for messing up your tent, kids.”

 

“We don’t need your money!” the boy yelled, throwing the bills back at Panji’s face. “That money is useless here! They’ll just rob us!”

 

“Huh?” Panji paused, taken aback. A long silence hung between them.

 

“So, that’s how it is…” he said finally. “Can you at least talk about what you did on the bridge?”

 

Another long pause followed.

 

“This isn’t working, Panji. How about I show them how Eden taught me?” the hippie suggested, stepping forward.

 

“Don't!” Panji cautioned, raising a hand.

 

“Let me handle this,” the maid insisted, her voice determined.

 

“Not you too!” Panji exclaimed, exasperated.

 

“Hmmph,” she pouted, crossing her arms.

 

“Do you guys have any food?” Panji asked, trying to steer the conversation back to something productive.

 

 

 

The maid looked around the tents. “I don’t see anything here…”

 

“Alright then…” Panji said, pulling out an axe.

 

“Oh, so you’re a cannibal now? That explains a lot,” the maid shot back sarcastically.

 

“Not stupid…” Panji retorted, beginning to chop down small trees. “I’m trying to make a fish trap.”

 

“I’m a vegan, so I have no clue what you’re doing,” the hippie replied, scratching his head.

 

Panji finished setting the trap on the riverbank. “Well, if we’re lucky, we’ll catch something. Meanwhile…” He drew his pistol. “We can go hunting. Come on, kids!”

 

The boys hesitated, still fearful but less scared than before.

 

“Come on…” Panji urged.

 

 

 

Hours later, Panji returned with a rabbit in hand, his face triumphant. “Listen, use your knife to skin this. Can you do that?” He tossed the rabbit toward the nearest boy.

 

The boy looked at the rabbit with wide eyes, reluctant at first, but then slowly began to skin the animal under Panji's watchful gaze.

 

“Hey, why are you all just standing there staring at me? Fix your tents!” Panji commanded.

 

“Oh, right…” the hippie murmured, moving to help.

 

After a while, they began cooking the rabbit over a small fire.

 

“Alright, boys… who told you to blow up the bridge?” Panji asked, his tone softer now. “I’m not angry. I know you were forced to do it.”

 

“We didn’t know it was a bomb! Someone told us to put it on the bridge before you arrived,” one of the boys admitted, his voice quivering.

 

“Who told you?” the maid demanded, her eyes narrowing.

 

“Some guy from the next town over… He threatened us…” the boy said, looking down. “We used to steal for him, and now…”

 

“Ah, I see…” Panji said, understanding dawning on him. “So you have to follow all his orders now?”

 

The boys nodded, looking defeated.

 

“Who is this guy?” Panji pressed.

 

“We don’t know his name, but there’s a man with a cowboy hat who lives on the upper floor of the bank,” the boy replied, glancing nervously at the maid.

 

Panji clenched his jaw, determination hardening in his gaze. “We’ll find him. And when we do, he’ll pay for what he’s done.”

 

 

“Ahh, I understand now… alright, Justice. We know who’s causing the trouble,” Panji declared, determination igniting in his eyes.

Chapter 20 Street kid

 

“About time. If you had let me question them, it might have taken less than fifteen minutes. But hey, congratulations—you remind me of a hero from the comics,” the maid teased.

“Wait, really? How does the hero in your comic end?” Panji asked, genuinely curious.

“Eeee… um… he dies,” she replied, a sheepish grin spreading across her face.

Panji chuckled, a chill running down his spine despite himself. Panji thought, "Funny how stories always end the same way. One way or another, someone always pays the price."

Later, as they approached the sign for a nearby town, the usual Red Nation propaganda blared from large monitor – extolling the virtues of military service and the glory of the arena.

“This place looks pretty lively,” the hippie said, his eyes scanning the bustling streets.

“Alright, let’s go say hello to that cowboy,” Panji suggested, a glimmer of mischief quickly fading as he considered the situation.

“MOVE!” the maid interjected. “There are too many macho types. Five of us against a whole town?”

 

“Hmm. What are you thinking? We can wait for the convoy, or we can do this alone,” Panji replied, weighing their options.

 

“Let me tell you how it’s done. We wait until nightfall and send the kids to scout,” the maid proposed, a glint of cunning in her eyes.

 

“Using the kids? You’re pretty sneaky…” the hippie remarked.

 

“Hey, we’re at war now,” she shot back, her voice steely.

 

“If we use the kids, we’re no better than them,” Panji countered firmly.

 

“Huh? What are you talking about? I’ve heard Chrome’s stories about you. You’re too good for your own good. Do you want the truth, Panji? We’re all bad here. The reason you’re here is because you like it,” she said, crossing her arms defiantly.

 

Panji lowered his shades, contemplating her words. “I won’t deny it, but relying on the kids as spies seems like a terrible idea. We’ll attack under the cover of darkness. But not with the kids.”

 

“Sure, boss,” the maid replied, a smirk on her lips.

 

 

 

At night, the gang stealthily approached a building in the town, scouting their surroundings.

 

“It’s only six, but it looks like most of them are already asleep,” the hippie noted, peering through the shadows.

 

“Watch and learn,” the maid instructed, drawing her scythe with a flourish.

 

“Wait, aren’t you a pacifist?” Panji asked, eyebrows raised.

 

“Yeah, when I’m with the Iron Maidens. But here, in Justice, I can be myself. Hey… your sins are now mine too,” she replied, a playful glint in her eyes.

 

“Understandable…” Panji muttered, shaking his head.

 

 

 

Eventually, they found the bank.

 

“I think this is the only bank in town…” the hippie said, scanning the entrance.

 

They executed a series of silent takedowns on the guards before breaking into the cowboy’s office.

 

“HA! How did you get in here?” the man with cowboy exclaimed, his eyes wide with shock.

 

Before he could react, the cowboy dashed for the window, escaping onto the rooftops. Panji and the gang pursued him, leaping from building to building, but the cowboy found himself cornered at the last rooftop.

 

“Whoa, whoa… take it easy, man! Please… I still want to live!” he pleaded, panic etched across his face.

 

“Of course. Are you working alone? If you tell me the truth, I might make this quick,” Panji said, drawing his axe menacingly.

 

“Ha! No! Please…” the cowboy whimpered, backing away from the edge.

 

“There’s someone from the media… they offered me money to sabotage the bridge…” he admitted, desperation creeping into his voice.

 

“Let me guess… to send the convoy on another route?” the maid shot back, crossing her arms.

 

“Exactly! Please, spare me!” the cowboy begged, falling to his knees.

 

“What are you talking about?” Panji pressed.

 

“The media has an alliance with a gang called Corp… they’re affiliated with mercenaries from the state!” the cowboy confessed, trembling.

 

“Interesting. Is that all?” Panji probed further.

 

“I’m telling you the truth! Please!” the cowboy cried, tears welling in his eyes.

 

Panji felt a surge of anger but paused, contemplating the situation.

 

“What about the kids you sent to plant bombs on the bridge?” Panji demanded.

 

“Oh… please…” the cowboy stammered, fear gripping him.

 

“Wrong move,” Panji said, and with a swift kick, he sent the cowboy tumbling off the rooftop. The cowboy’s body landed with a sickening thud on the ground below, drawing the attention of nearby civilians.

 

“If I were you, I’d chop him up first and then throw him down,” the maid laughed darkly.

 

Some guards spotted Panji standing over the dead body but hesitated to confront him.

 

 

 

Later, in the cowboy’s office room, the hippie found something interesting.

 

“Hey, look at this!” he exclaimed, holding up a document.

 

“What is it?” Panji asked, leaning closer.

 

“It’s the address for the Free World Media… and I found some cash!” the hippie said, excitement bubbling in his voice.

 

“Good… we’re getting closer,” Panji replied, feeling a sense of purpose.

 

 

 

Suddenly, a guard walked in,they armed with rifle, and they surprised to see Panji. “Wow… you really killed him, huh?”

 

“Yeah…” Panji replied, crossing his arms.

 

“How did you pull off all that? A… kung fu ninja move?” the guard asked, curiosity evident in his tone.

 

“I’m just being myself. Listen, why was that cowboy able to control this town?” Panji inquired.

 

“Well, it all started when…” the guard began, launching into a long, tedious history.

 

 

 

After what felt like an eternity, the maid sighed. “Heh… so, to sum it up, the cowboy was an investor, and he had rights to your property and then your bank. Can you skip all the boring details?”

 

“Sure,” Panji said, rolling his eyes.

 

“Hey, do you know the kids near the bridge?” he asked.

 

“Of course. They’re street kids who usually steal around here,” the guard replied.

 

“Hey, can you send them leftover food? There’s plenty of wasted food in your dumpsters,” Panji suggested, his voice earnest.

 

The guard looked taken aback. “Sure, I can do that. But why do you care?”

 

“Because they deserve better,” Panji said, a fire igniting in his chest. “We’re not just fighting for ourselves; we’re fighting for everyone who’s been oppressed.”

 

As the guard nodded in agreement, Panji felt a renewed sense of purpose. Justice wasn’t just a name; it was a mission, a rallying cry for all those who yearned for freedom.

 

And with each step forward, they would carve a path to liberation, one fight at a time.

Later, they settled in the town before continuing their journey, gathering in the maid's room.

 

“Hey, cowboy. Didn’t I tell you this room is mine?” the maid teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

 

Panji responded by playfully shoving a cowboy hat onto her head. “Shut up…”

 

“Hihih… you really don’t care about Vita, do you?” she pressed, a knowing smile on her lips.

 

Panji sighed, closing the door behind him. “You wouldn’t understand…”

 

 

 

The next morning, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. they start rode again

 

“Women always seem to like long-haired guys who can play guitar,” the hippie mused, strumming absentmindedly.

 

“Not always. They usually go for the playboys,” the maid replied, taking a sip of her drink.

 

“Who’s the Lord at Red Summer?” Panji asked, his curiosity piqued.

 

“He’s my master… isn’t that clear?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

 

“No, I mean the history behind him and his connection to Eden,” Panji clarified, pushing for more information.

 

“Ahhh, that comes at a price,” she teased, tapping her cheek.

 

“Sorry, my mouth is still busy,” he replied, stuffing a piece of bread into it.

 

“You missed… well.. eden is her first maid.. but after zion arrive. he split the fertile one, well you the detail next.. so years later. farm changed eden.. and this two lover split because.. complicated matter”

 

panji then munch munch. seems not really understand but nod to it

 

 

 

Later on, the hippie approached Panji with concern. after not united with the rest of convoy “How’s it going with them, Panji?”

 

“Uh… still no news,” he admitted, rubbing his forehead. “I swear I can’t think right now…”

 

“Why don’t we meet them at this crossroads?” the hippie suggested, pointing at the map.

 

“Good idea. We’ll meet them faster that way…” Panji agreed, feeling a spark of hope.

 

“Yeah, but we’ll have to pass through some tunnels under the mountain,” the hippie added, a hint of caution in his tone.

 

 

 

Before they could set off, a boy approached them, holding out a fish.

 

“Hey, riders…” the boy said, offering it to Panji.

 

“Thanks! So you can catch fish now?” Panji asked, surprised.

 

“Of course!” the boy replied proudly.

 

“Good. Then…” Panji handed the boy the necklace he had taken earlier. “Where did you get this?”

 

“Oh, this? It’s just a pendant for luck. We usually find those little robot bugs by the river… if you want it, take it,” he said, shrugging.

 

 

 

Later, in the dark tunnel, Panji pondered aloud. “I’m thinking… am I really helping them, or are they helping me?”

 

“Hey, just ask your heart, man,” the hippie said with a chuckle.

 

“Of course, the heart… but if your heart is dark, you won’t get anything,” the maid interjected, her laughter echoing ominously. “Hhooh hohohoh…”

 

 

They reached the end of the tunnel and were met with a barricade manned by soldiers and jeeps.

 

“Drop your weapons!” a soldier barked, raising his rifle.

 

“Fuck!” Panji exclaimed, his heart racing.

 

“Die, government dog!” the hippie shouted, pulling out his gun. But before he could fire, the soldier shot him instantly.

 

“This is your last warning. Or you’ll end up like your friend,” the soldier threatened, his eyes cold.

 

“Alright…” Panji said, his mind racing as he dropped his weapon and dismounted from his motorcycle.

 

“Good… lie down. Hands behind your head. Now! Hurry up!” the soldier ordered.

 

Panji complied, hitting the ground as the soldier approached to handcuff him. The rest of the gang followed suit, surrendering as fear gripped them. Just before the soldier pulled off Panji’s mask, the last thing he saw was the maid’s face, a mix of determination and concern etched into her features.

In the dimly lit room, tension hung thick in the air.

 

“So, that’s how it is,” Bartoleme said, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “I really don’t know what to do with you.”

 

“Yeah… so you’re here just to keep the town from rebelling?” Panji replied, his voice steady.

 

“Exactly. Now, what about Justice?” Bartoleme pressed, his gaze challenging.

 

Panji took a deep breath, weighing his words. “We’re heading to Los Angeles to seek clarification from the Free World Media. Listen, man… you can’t intimidate me. I’m going there, no matter what.”

 

“Soldiers don’t play politics. Maybe I’ll let you go,” Bartoleme shrugged, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

 

“Really? Cool…” Panji replied, a flicker of hope igniting within him.

 

after long pause, Panji faced Bartoleme again. “So if the explosion wasn’t the army’s doing, who was it?”

 

“I don’t know. That’s not my concern,” Bartoleme replied, a dismissive wave of his hand.

 

Panji tilted his head, intrigued. “Huh? Ahhh? Interesting…”

 

“Look, man. This isn’t my town. I couldn’t care less. My heart and eyes are only for Las Vegas,” Bartoleme said, shrugging off the implications.

 

“Understandable…” Panji replied, the pieces of the puzzle beginning to fit together in his mind.

 

He just encountered Bartoleme, one of Zion's vassals. Panji found him pretty unprofessional, but hey, it worked in his favor. Bartoleme ended up freeing all the Justice members, giving them the green light to head to LA.

 

 

 

On the road, the rest of Justice sped away from Bartoleme’s roadblock, the wind whipping past them.

 

“Poor Hippie… I was starting to like his glasses,” the maid said, her voice a bit somber.

 

“Hey, darling… don’t I wear glasses too?” Panji shot back, teasingly.

 

“Sorry, Panji, but his glasses just looked cooler to me,” she admitted with a light laugh.

 

“Understandable…” Panji replied, shaking his head with a smile.

 

“Eh… not really. Maybe I liked his personality,” she confessed, her tone softening.

 

“Are you not going to cry, are you?” Panji teased, feeling his heart lighten.

 

The maid sniffed, a small tear in her eye, but she quickly covered it with a playful pout. “No… not at all…”

 

Later, the convoy finally united as they rolled into formation.

 

“Hey, Red Devil… umm, I’m still mourning for Vita,” Chrome said, his voice heavy with loss.

 

“Yeah…” Panji replied, the weight of grief settling between them.

 

“But during the journey, I picked up some intel. We’ve been frequently attacked by the Diablos gang,” Chrome continued, his tone serious.

 

“Why is that?” Panji asked, curiosity piqued.

 

“Not sure… besides the bounty, there’s probably an ideological motive. Most of them used to be mercs, just like us” Chrome explained.

 

“Ohh… I see. Were there many casualties?” Panji pressed, concern flickering in his eyes.

 

“Yeah, we lost a lot of good people. But you’ve seen it yourself—others have joined Justice along the way,” Chrome said, trying to stay optimistic.

 

“Interesting… what motivates these new recruits?” Panji inquired.

 

“Varied reasons. Some idolize you. Others have a grudge against the media, some just crackhead” Chrome replied.

 

“Right… we don’t have time to question them one by one. Los Angeles is close. Justice, let’s roll!” Panji declared, revving his engine as the convoy surged forward.

 

The convoy pressed westward, the setting sun casting long shadows across the desolate landscape. Wrecked vehicles and scattered debris littered the roadside, grim reminders of the wasteland's harsh realities. They rode for what felt like hours, the landscape a monotonous blur of sand and broken asphalt.

After they passed a particularly large stretch of debris—a veritable junkyard stretching as far as the eye could see—Chrome pulled alongside Panji. “Hold up,” he said, his voice tight. “There’s a wreck up ahead. Looks suspicious.”

Panji squinted, spotting the twisted metal silhouette against the darkening sky. “Diablos?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised,” Chrome replied grimly. “They’ve been hitting us hard lately. We need to check it out.”

Panji signaled the convoy to slow. He gestured to Flick, one of the newer recruits. “Flick, go take a look. Be careful.”

Flick cautiously approached the wreckage, his hand hovering near the pistol at his hip. He circled the vehicle, his eyes scanning the ground. He stopped abruptly, his breath catching in his throat. “Guys… get back! There’s something under the hood!”

Panji and Chrome exchanged a tense look and dismounted, approaching the wreckage cautiously. Flick pointed to a tangle of wires snaking out from under the hood, leading to a crude bomb strapped to the engine block. A small digital timer glowed red: 00:03:17.

“Diablos,” Chrome growled, his jaw tight. “They’re getting bolder.”

A cold dread settled in Panji’s stomach. Less than four minutes. This wasn't some simple intimidation tactic; this was meant to kill. He glanced back at the others. Some of the Iron Maidens were huddled together, chanting softly in circle and their hands clasped. He noticed they were swallowing small pills. He rolled his eyes; it was probably the reason for their erratic behavior. A few of the other Justice members were nonchalantly playing cards nearby, seemingly oblivious to the danger. He gritted his teeth. This wasn’t a goddamn party.

“Chrome, with me! Flick, keep watch!” Panji barked, his voice sharp and urgent. He grabbed a piece of scrap metal and began carefully trying to pry open the hood, while Chrome examined the wiring, searching for a way to disarm the device. The clock ticked down: 00:02:58. Every second felt like a lifetime.

 

Chapter 21 For Justice

 

The Iron Maidens, their chanting complete, turned their attention to the bomb. The maid looked at Panji,.  “so. why we lets just go away from the blast?”

Panji shook his head, a mix of frustration and embarrassment washing over him. “It’ll destroy the road. Someone could come along later…”  panji trying to argue “umm someone wil stumble!”

maid roll her eyes “alright.. sure.lets just forget if we are in middle of fucking ass desert.  just stack them on that ugly tricylce. “She pointed to a nearby motorcycle with a sidecar” and hit the gas will rubber or something”

Chrome, ever practical, had already hotwired the motorcycle and was fiddling with the throttle. “Quick! Grab some rope or something!” He gestured to the sidecar

Flick, surprisingly nimble for his size, carefully lifted the bomb and placed it in the sidecar, securing it with a length of thick rubber tubing and a tattered belt he found nearby. Chrome rigged the throttle, using a piece of wire to keep it wide open. The motorcycle sputtered to life, lurching forward and bumping across the uneven ground. One of the Justice members, who had been engrossed in a card game moments before, looked up, startled. “Hey! That’s my bike! And it’s not a tricycle!” he yelled in protest.

They watched as the motorcycle sped away across the desolate landscape, a small, dark silhouette against the vast desert horizon. Moments later, a blinding flash lit up the sky, followed by a deafening boom that sent tremors through the ground. A plume of smoke and dust billowed into the air, forming a mushroom cloud that quickly dissipated in the desert wind. The force of the blast sent a wave of heat and a cloud of dust washing over them.

“Damn,” Panji said, brushing sand from his face. “That was bigger than I expected.”

 

Thousands of kilometers away, a military transport train, its armored carriages emblazoned with the stylized maple leaf of the Canadian Confederation, its was red nation vassal state, screeched to a halt at a remote northern station. Nara, her long hair now framing a hardened face, presented her encrypted datapad to a guard. His eyes flicked between the datapad’s glowing symbols and Nara’s face before he nodded curtly.

“Courier Fire, authorized passage,” he said, stepping aside.

A pale woman in a white, fur-lined cloak waited on the platform, the frigid air swirling around her like a ghostly embrace. “I am Siren. You carry the Cross directive?” Her voice had a sharp, almost brittle quality.

Nara handed over a sealed data chip. “Designated package Gamma-7.”

Siren’s pale eyes flicked over the chip. “A detour. It seems our client requires…expedited delivery.” She gestured towards a nearby warehouse, its walls reinforced with thick plasteel plating. “Los Angeles.”

“Heh. Actually…” Nara sneezed.

 

Siren chuckled softly, then removed her cloak, revealing her pale skin. “Here, wear this. Follow me.”

 

They made their way to a warehouse filled with crates stacked high.

 

“You’ll stay with us until the package is delivered. After that, you can return to Cross,” Siren stated, her voice devoid of warmth.

 

“Alright… where is this going?” Nara asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

 

Siren sighed, rolling her eyes. “You ask too many questions. But a little curiosity might not kill you… just torture you. This is headed to Los Angeles.”

 

 

 

Later, they arrived at a harbor near the station. The crates were loaded onto a submarine.

 

“Express delivery…” Siren announced, her tone flat.

 

“Is this a government submarine?” Nara asked, eyebrows raised.

 

“No, it’s La Buse…” Siren replied, her lips curling into a smirk.

 

“Pirate-owned? Isn’t the Free World at war with pirates? How can that be?” Nara pressed, confusion washing over her.

 

“Yeah… I told you, Fire, you ask too many questions. Just help them load the boxes,” Siren instructed, shaking her head.

 

 

 

After the crates were loaded, the crew began boarding the submarine, ready to set sail.

 

On top of the submarine, Nara glanced around. “Aren’t we diving yet?”

 

“Not yet…” Siren replied, her gaze scanning the horizon.

 

 

 

Later, a crew member shouted, “Hey, woman! We’re about to exit the jammer range. We’ll dive soon!”

 

“Alright, Nara. Let’s go inside,” Siren urged.

 

Nara sneezed again, her body shivering in the chill of the northern wind. “Yeah… I’m starting to get cold up here.”

 

 

Inside the submarine, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. Colorful anime posters adorned the walls, and figurines lined the shelves.

 

“Ahh… cultured people…” Nara mused, a grin creeping onto her face.

 

“Hey! I heard that! One more comment like that, and I’ll kick you out!” a crew member threatened, glaring at her.

 

“Humpf…” Nara retorted, crossing her arms.

 

“Quiet, everyone! I’m tracking a patrol ship. They’ll be passing over us soon,” another crew member commanded.

 

“What do we do?” someone asked, panic creeping into his voice.

 

“Stay silent and calm. Don’t make a sound,” the tracker replied, his eyes locked on the sonar screen.

 

On the sonar, the patrol ship drew nearer.

 

“They’re almost here,” the tracker warned, tension thick in the air.

 

The patrol ship passed directly above the submarine, the crew holding their breath.

 

As the patrol ship moved on, the crew exhaled in relief.

 

“That was close,” one crew member remarked, wiping sweat from his brow.

 

“I’ll keep tracking that patrol ship. Let me know if they come back,” the tracker said, his focus unwavering.

 

 

Later, Siren peered through the periscope, her expression shifting to one of anticipation. “Ahh, you see that? Los Angeles.”

 

As they prepared to surface, Nara felt the weight of their mission pressing down on her. The stakes were higher than ever, and the path ahead was fraught with danger.

 

The submarine glided through the water, finally surfacing near a bustling harbor. As they emerged, Nara squinted against the bright sunlight, her heart racing with anticipation.

 

“This is it, Nara. You can go back to Cross now,” Siren said, handing her a small bundle of money. “And use this to go to the salon.”

 

Nara chuckled, tucking the money away. “Thanks, but I’ve never been to a salon.”

 

Siren winked, her icy demeanor softening for a moment. “You need to learn how to spend money when you’re rich. And yes… return my cloak.”

 

 

Later on land, on the highway, Panji and the convoy cruised along the familiar stretch of the Red Highway.

 

“So, this is the Red Highway?” Panji mused, glancing around. “It looks just like any other highway. No signs of battle… but ever since we’ve been on this road, I feel something… cold.”

 

“Hoho! If you’ve ever seen pictures of it, the asphalt here is all red. You can’t even tell what’s human and what’s not,” Chrome replied, a grin spreading across his face.

 

“Oh, come on… don’t make me nauseous,” Panji groaned, shaking his head.

As they approached the city, a roadblock came into view.

 

“Hey, let us through!” Panji called out, raising a hand.

 

“Are you planning a revolution in the city?” the guard questioned, his tone skeptical.

 

“No… we just want answers,” Panji replied, his determination unwavering.

 

“Fine,” the guard relented, stepping aside. “You can pass.”

 

The convoy rolled through the city streets, more people flocking in to see what was happening.

 

soon the tv helicopter is trail on them in sky

“Alright, here we go…” Panji muttered, but as they reached the entrance to the Free World Media building, they were met with a wall of Diablos gang members.

 

“You’re not getting in,” one of the Diablos snarled, his eyes glaring.

 

“Oh yeah? I drove hundreds of kilometers just to turn back because of your mouth?” Panji shot back, defiance radiating from him.

 

“If it’s not because of my mouth, it’ll be because of this,” the gang member said, hurling a Molotov cocktail at the convoy.

 

“Ahh, so you like violence, huh? Congratulations, so do we!” Panji roared, and the Justice gang sprang into action, clashing with the Diablos.

 

Meanwhile, inside a salon, Nara flipped through channels on a monitor, catching snippets of news.

 

“What the fuck?” she exclaimed, her eyes widening at the chaos unfolding in the city. “Alright, where’s the Free World office?”

 

Determined, she set out, ready to find the answers she sought, her heart pounding with the thrill of the unknown.

 

 

 

Back outside, the clash between Justice and the Diablos escalated, the sounds of battle echoing through the streets. Panji fought fiercely, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he pushed forward for justice, for answers, for a chance to reclaim their future.

 

As the chaos unfolded, the stakes had never been higher, and the path ahead was fraught with danger. But for Panji and his crew, there was no turning back.

 

After the clash on the street, Justice's monstrous vehicle smashed through the glass doors of the Free World Media office, sending shards flying. The lobby erupted in chaos.

 

“Dead man!” Flame roared, hurling a Molotov cocktail at the monstercar. The flames engulfed it, igniting the passengers inside.

 

Justice retaliated, shooting the sprinkler system, causing water to pour down and adding to the confusion. The fight escalated floor by floor, with the Diablos gang being pushed back toward the upper levels. As barricades were hastily constructed, both sides suffered heavy losses.

 

“We can’t push any further!” Chrome shouted, ducking behind cover.

 

“I have an idea…” the maid replied, her eyes glinting with determination.

 

then veronica tv presenter is trying do her job. then maid break in on top of building.

“hey. we are the justice gang. you wanna life interview? she said while other point their gun

 

In a bold move, some Justice gang members stole a TV helicopter, using it to flank the Diablos and attack from another angle. A few managed to infiltrate the rooftop.

 

pilot on gun point the squirm “i dont pay enough for this” flick on pistol on his hand said “you never”

 

“They’ve breached from the other side, Panji! We can send more people through there,” the maid yelled, excitement bubbling in her voice.

 

Panji nodded, rallying the remaining gang members. They boarded the helicopter, ready for their second attempt.

 

But as they soared through the air, the Diablos opened fire, The helicopter lurched violently, spinning out of control. Panji grabbed the doorframe, his knuckles white as the ground rushed up to meet them. The helicopter slammed into the side of the building, They crashed through a window and landed in the middle of an office floor, scattering desks and chairs.".

 

 

The helicopter pilot was killed instantly, leaving only a handful of gang members alive as they dismounted in a hail of gunfire.

 

“Damn…” Panji groaned, clutching his bleeding head as he struggled to regain his bearings.

 

“Not the smoothest landing compared to my first time,” the maid quipped, wincing in pain.

 

“Huh? You owe me that story, girl. But right now, we have company,” Panji replied, his eyes narrowing as he prepared for another fight.

 

“Here,” she said, offering him some pills.

 

“Better than nothing,” he muttered, swallowing them quickly before diving back into the fray.

 

 

 

On another floor, the Diablos were regrouping.

 

“Some of them are on the roof, and some just landed on the middle floor!” a gang member shouted.

 

“Wait, how did they get down there?” Flame asked, bewildered.

 

“They crashed into the building…” another explained, panic creeping into his voice.

 

Just then, the Justice gang gained the upper hand, pushing closer to the main office area.

 

“Hah! This is it!” Flame shouted, lighting a stack of documents and computers on fire. “They’re getting closer, and when they arrive, they won’t find anything!”

 

“What are you doing?” a Diablos member yelled, horrified.

 

“They’re almost here!” Flame laughed maniacally as he watched the flames spread.

 

 

 

The Justice gang regrouped, preparing for one final breach to the last floor.

 

“Good to see you’re still intact. They’re cornered now,” Chrome said, his voice steady.

 

“Let’s finish this,” Panji replied, determination in his eyes.

 

As they breached the door, smoke billowed out, obscuring their vision.

 

“Ughh… I can’t see anything!” the maid gasped, coughing through the haze.

 

Suddenly, several Justice gang members were cut down by a hail of gunfire as the Diablos rushed at them. The battle devolved into chaos, with friendly fire becoming a real threat.

 

“Everyone, get back!” Chrome shouted, trying to regain control.

 

Amidst the smoke, a figure in an exo-suit emerged, ruthlessly eliminating Justice gang members.

 

“Look! It’s one of them! Shoot!” Chrome yelled, pointing.

 

The gang opened fire, but the figure ducked and dodged, forcing them to reload.

 

“Now it’s my turn…” Flame sneered, prepare Molotov cocktail into the air.

 

Chrome drew his saw off shotgun and shot it mid-flight. The explosion sent flames outwards, injuring several gang members.

 

Flame, enraged, attempted to throw another Molotov, but Chrome shot his hand, forcing him to retreat into the smoke.

 

 

 

Meanwhile, in the burning office area, the maid and Panji pressed deeper, adrenaline driving them forward.

 

“AHHHAHHA! Oh girl, I’m starting to get high from your pills and all this chaos. 10/10 experience!” Panji shouted, exhilaration coursing through him.

 

“Of course, darling! I’m enjoying this too!” the maid grinned, her bloodlust matching his.

 

Later, as they fought through the flames, Panji realized he was out of ammo.

 

“My bullets are gone!” he exclaimed, drawing his axe and dagger.

 

“Same here!” the maid said, dropping her SMG and pulling out her scythe.

 

The blade glanced off Flame’s shoulder plate, sending sparks flying but failing to penetrate the armor. Flame backhanded her, the force of the blow sending her sprawling across the floor.

 

“What the hell!” Panji shouted, rushing to her aid.

 

He swung his axe at Flame, but it barely scratched the armored figure. Panji locked eyes with Flame, who glared back from behind his full-face helmet.

 

“Is that all you’ve got?” Flame taunted, landing several brutal punches to Panji’s face before throwing him back. then other justice member shooting at flame. distract him from panji

 

Panji gasped for air, his vision blurring. He staggered to his feet, his hand instinctively going to his axe. He saw a nearby door and with a surge of adrenaline he swung the axe cutting the lock and the door flew open, revealing a room filled with terrified office workers, bound and gagged. Their eyes widened in terror as Panji stumbled in, his face covered in blood.

 

“Oh, thank you! They’re going to kill us all! You have to get us out of here!” one worker pleaded, panic in his voice.

 

Panji grabbed the collar of the nearest worker. “Not so fast. Who’s been running the news all this time?”

 

“Mammoth… they’re the ones financing us! Now, please, get us out of here!” the worker cried desperately.

 

Just then, Flame burst into the room, hurling a Molotov cocktail toward the hostages. The tied-up hostages screamed, the others scrambling away. Panji roared, intercepting the bottle mid-air and hurling it back at Flame, who barely dodged the exploding glass.

“What’s wrong, Panji? Confused about how to defeat me?” Flame mocked, the flames casting his armored figure in a hellish glow.

“This isn’t about winning or losing,” Panji retorted, his voice strained. “It’s about what’s right.”

The maid, clutching her wounded shoulder, stepped forward. “He’s right. You’re sacrificing innocent people for your ‘nation’.”

Flame gestured to the burning room, his voice laced with bitterness. “Sacrifice? I sacrificed everything! Look at this patch!” He pointed to the red dagger on his shoulder. “Red Guard. We fought to build this nation after the Zion capture Los Angeles. We brought order from chaos!”

“Order at the cost of freedom?” the maid countered, her voice sharp. “You call this liberty? Keeping people in chains, silencing dissent? You’re no different than the ones you fought against.”

 

flame eyes seems burning in anger behind his fullface helmet “shut up woman!. you wanna equality? here equal fight!”

Chapter 22 Old media

Flame stood at the doorway, blocking any escape for the terrified office workers. A few managed to slip past him, but he was relentless, striking down anyone who dared to flee.

 

In a nearby room, the remaining workers huddled together as they encountered Justice gang members.

 

“Please, don’t shoot!” one of the workers pleaded.

 

“Wait! Hold on, guys! They’re unarmed. Who are you?” Chrome shouted, raising his weapon but keeping it steady.

 

Meanwhile, as Flame focused on blocking the door, the maid seized her chance.

 

“Ha! Watch your back, big guy!” she shouted as she lunged with her scythe.

 

Panji rushed in right behind her, swinging his fist at Flame’s helmet, but the blow barely phased him.

 

“Uhh, uhh! Damn it! I can’t feel my hands!” Panji grunted, struggling to regain his footing.

 

“Are we done here?” Flame taunted, delivering a brutal kick that sent Panji sprawling and then tossing the maid aside like a rag doll.

 

Panji and the maid found themselves cornered against the wall, both breathing heavily.

 

 

 

On the other side of the building, Chrome was trying to rally the gang members.

 

“Who here can use a fire extinguisher?” he asked, looking for any volunteers.

 

Blank stares met him as everyone shook their heads.

 

“Great… useless,” Chrome muttered in frustration.

 

“Uh, I can!” a hesitant worker finally spoke up.

 

 

 

Back with Flame, the villain laughed, drawing a Molotov cocktail from his back pocket. He flicked a lighter with a grin, igniting the bottle with a flick of his fingers.

 

“You two are a cute duo, but you chose the wrong opponent,” he said, raising the flaming bottle above his head.

 

Just as Flame’s arm arced back, ready to hurl the Molotov, Chrome lunged, tackling him around the legs. They crashed to the floor, the Molotov skittering away. Chrome scrambled to his feet, grabbing a fire extinguisher from the wall and spraying a jet of foam into Flame’s faceplate. The foam obscured Flame’s vision, causing him to stumble back, roaring in frustration

 

“Watch out, General! He’s not finished yet!” Panji warned, as the two men continued to grapple.

 

The maid’s eyes widened as she watched the struggle unfold. “This guy can’t be beaten…”

 

Flame regained his footing, shrugging off the foam, and lunged at Chrome, landing a few hard hits. The gang members opened fire, but their bullets had little effect.

 

“You idiots have no brains!” Flame taunted, advancing toward them menacingly.

 

“Wait! He’s starting to tire! Keep hitting him!” the maid shouted, rallying the remaining gang members.

 

But they hesitated, unsure of their next move.

 

“Why are you all standing around? Ahhh!” the maid yelled, frustration boiling over.

 

With a sudden burst of courage, she rushed at Flame again, and this time, other gang members joined her, attacking in unison.

 

 

 

Panji, desperate for a solution, pulled out his phone and dialed Techno.

 

“Haah… hey, Eye Six…” he panted, trying to catch his breath.

 

“Panji? What’s going on? I’m not in the mood for phone pranks,” Techno replied, sounding annoyed.

 

“Stop joking! Look at this!” Panji said, showing Techno the scene of Flame in his exo-suit. “How do I defeat this guy?”

 

“Is that a live feed? Cool. You’re really on top of things,” Techno remarked.

 

“For God’s sake, just tell me how to beat him!” Panji snapped.

 

“Give me a second…” Techno said, his voice trailing off.

 

 

 

As the battle raged on, Flame grabbed the maid by the neck, throwing her toward Panji.

 

“Having fun, are we?” he taunted, raising another Molotov cocktail.

 

“Enough!” Panji shouted, trying to protect the maid.

 

“Okay, enough of this! I’ll burn you all!” Flame declared, igniting another bottle and preparing to unleash hell.

 

Outside the building, Nara sat in a taxi, peering out at the chaos ahead.

 

“Get closer to the location!” she urged the driver.

 

“Hey, there’s a gang war going on! I’m not getting any closer!” he protested.

 

Ignoring him, Nara tossed money at the driver and bolted from the car.

 

 

 

Inside the building, Nara brushed past some gang members, narrowly avoiding their grasp.

 

“Get away from here, idiot!” one of them shouted.

 

Nara weaved through wreckage, spotting charred bodies left in gruesome states.

 

“Ugh… this is grotesque…” she muttered, her stomach churning.

 

She rushed toward the elevator, but when the doors opened, a half-burned corpse tumbled out.

 

“Oh my God! Ueekkk…” Nara gagged, stepping back in horror.

 

 

 

Meanwhile, back in the office, Flame had just finished incinerating several gang members.

 

 

Chrome lunged at him, but Flame’s fiery defense sent him reeling back, the ceiling catching fire.

 

“Ahhh! My eyes!” Chrome screamed, blinded by the smoke.

 

Just then, Nara burst into the room, silent and fierce. Without hesitation, she charged at Flame.

 

“Wait! Nara, don’t!” Panji shouted, horrified.

 

Flame turned toward her, raising his flamethrower, but Nara managed to slide down and kick him hard in the stomach.

 

“Ahhh! Hot!” she cried, tossing her singed jacket aside.

 

“Hey! How did she survive?!” Panji exclaimed, bewildered.

 

“She must be wearing a bodysuit like mine,” the maid remarked, impressed.

 

Panji’s phone rang again.

 

“Hey, hey! Are you still there?” Techno’s voice crackled through.

 

“Sorry! Have you figured out how to beat him?” Panji asked, urgency in his tone.

 

“There’s an emergency button on his chin. It’ll release his helmet,” Techno replied quickly.

 

Panji nodded at the remaining gang members, who were now regaining their courage.

 

“Let’s attack him from different directions!” he shouted.

 

As they charged at Flame, he swung wildly, igniting a few gang members but becoming increasingly overwhelmed.

 

One brave gang member tried to grab Flame’s chin to find the hidden button, but Flame retaliated, burning his face in the process.

 

While lying on the ground, Chrome managed to shoot Flame’s device, causing the liquid to leak.

 

“Agh! It’s leaking!” Flame howled, losing control of his flamethrower.

 

The maid seized the moment, swallowing some pills for a boost of adrenaline, and rushed to strangle Flame from behind. The others grabbed his arms and legs, holding him down.

 

“Now!” the maid shouted, pushing the hidden button on Flame’s chin.

 

With a hiss, his helmet popped off, revealing a furious face beneath.

 

“Now!” Panji yelled, as he grabbed his axe and hurled it toward Nara.

 

She caught it and swung at Flame’s face, landing a solid hit that sent him crashing to the ground.

 

Flame slumped to the ground, his final words a weak, broken plea: "I fight for freedom and...liberty..."

The maid stared down at him, her face a mask of disgust. “a sick bird think flying was illness.. a abused wife in toxic marriage will think his husband best of the world, hah”

 

The room fell silent, the only sound the crackling of the nearby flames, the remaining gang members stood around, exhausted but victorious, while Nara stood tall, the axe glinting in her hand.

 

that was a awkward reunion. Panji, however, couldn't quite meet her gaze. panji nothing to say to nara.

 

he just Moving on, Panji and the gang ushered the rescued office workers into a secure room. The atmosphere was thick with a nervous energy. They huddled around a table, remnants of the chaotic battle still fresh in everyone's minds. The truth of the Free World was slowly unraveling before their eyes

 

“Look at this,” one of the workers said, pointing to a document filled with alarming details. Panji snatched it up, scanning the contents. His expression hardened as he read about the seven committee goals that justified the Zion presence under the guise of stability. Each point painted a chilling picture of manipulation and control:

 

1.Radio Committee: Panji scanned the document. "Radio Committee, huh? Sounds like they're blasting war tunes 24/7. No wonder everyone's so hyped for the Colosseum."

  

2. High School Contest Committee: Organizing competitions that promoted military values and preparedness, like marksmanship training and essays praising war heroes.

  

panji rub his hair “huh? panji noticed a poster on a desk, depicting a group of smiling teenagers in military uniforms, holding rifles. The caption read: "Red Nation Youth: Forging the Heroes of Tomorrow."

 

3. Book Burning Committee: Eliminating books deemed anti-war or subversive, controlling narratives and promoting loyalty to the regime.

 

maid then popping in her hair is mess, then comment “lord had nice books you never see in his library. “panji then nodded. and continue

  

4. Library Committee: Curating libraries with pro-war literature and educational materials, shaping young minds toward acceptance of militarism.

 

"Looks like someone took 'curate' a little too seriously. 'The Glorious History of the Red Nation', huh? Bet that's one heck of a bedtime story."

  

5. Game Committee: Designing video games and interactive media that glamorized war, making violence an attractive option.

  

panji and maid Synchronize  “Colosseum”

 

6. Shop Committee: Offering discounts and privileges to veterans, creating a social hierarchy that rewarded military service.

 

panji and maid shared glance. then look at the nearby nerd worker, he then muttered

   “we plan to make veteran discount “he then forced smile then  mutters something about "adjusting the policy."

 

7. Movie Committee: Producing pro-war films that indoctrinated citizens to normalize conflict.

 

TV hung on the wall, displaying a still image from a propaganda film. It showed a group of Red Nation soldiers rescuing civilians from a burning city, the soldiers’ faces illuminated by the heroic glow of the flames.

 

panji then comment “yeah. sometimes i forgot if that kind of movie is a propaganda”

 

Panji narrowed his eyes, disgusted by the revelations. Before he could absorb the full impact of the document, a low rumble filled the air outside.

 

 

 

Suddenly, a fleet of military helicopters descended, surrounding the area. The Justice gang members dropped their weapons, raising their hands in surrender.

 

“Stay calm,” Panji urged, scanning the skies as a towering figure disembarked from one of the choppers—a Magog, an elite soldier known for their brutal efficiency and imposing presence. The massive soldier began capturing all members of the Justice gang, his eyes cold and calculating. Some stubborn members attempted to fight back, but their bullets bounced harmlessly off the Magog's armor.

 

Panji, still fixated on the document, was unaware of the danger creeping up behind him until he felt a heavy tap on his shoulder. He turned around to find the Magog towering over him, a beastly mask obscuring his features.

 

Before he could react, the Magog delivered a crushing punch to his face, and everything went dark.

 

Panji jolted awake, finding himself at a desk in a dim, isolated room. A voice crackled to life over a speaker, smooth and dripping with condescension.

 

“Impressive, Panji. You've stirred quite the chaos. I am the Minister of Free World Media.”

 

With a primal fury, Panji slammed his fist on the desk. The sound reverberated like a gunshot in the silence.

 

“Don’t play coy, Minister. You know what I’ve uncovered. I found the truth.”

 

“Now, now, Panji. No need for theatrics. We can discuss this rationally,” the Minister replied, as if Panji were a petulant child.

 

“Rational? There’s nothing rational about brainwashing kids and turning them into cannon fodder for your sick games!” Panji shot back, rage igniting his chest.

 

“The Colosseum is a glorious tradition, Panji. It instills honor, discipline, and strength—qualities you clearly possess. Freedom is a luxury. In the Red Nation, we offer stability and purpose. You could have that. Join the Blood Khaganate. Put your skills to good use.”

 

“Become another pawn in your twisted game? No thanks. I’d rather die free than live as your slave.”

 

“Is that so? Then prepare to die, Panji. Silencing you is the only way to ensure the stability you crave.”

 

Panji’s heart raced as the room plunged into darkness.

 

 

 

When the lights flickered back on, a bald man in a suit loomed over him, flanked by a hulking super soldier. The Minister smirked, a cruel twist of his lips.

 

“Just kidding. We don’t want to kill a famous celebrity like you. And about your dream of defeating Zion… do you really think killing him will end the war? I don’t think so.”

 

He gestured toward a monitor displaying a timeline of civilizations rising and falling—from Uruk to Rome to the USA.

 

“What the hell do you mean?” Panji demanded, frustration boiling over. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it. Don’t bore me with history.”

 

The Minister snickered, clearly enjoying himself. “I actually just like Kassandra…” He straightened, adopting a serious tone. “If we kill Zion, it will only bring more chaos.”

 

Panji felt his anger simmering, but he held back. “Stop that bullshit. I’m not pro-war anymore. You can peddle your nonsense about the luxuries of a free nation built on war, but I don’t buy it!”

 

“No, you don’t understand. Do you think this is all about one man, Panji?”

 

Panji paused, the weight of the question sinking in.

 

“Yes,” the Minister nodded, revealing a tattoo of a tusk on his arm. “Mammoth, … so you see.”

 

Panji’s breath caught in his throat. “the White Nation ....”

 

The Minister quickly covered his tattoo with his suit. “Yes, let’s work together. I’ll make you the new leader of this world.”

 

Annoyance flickered in Panji’s eyes, his fists clenching. “What’s your angle?”

 

“The celebrity rules in this nation. It doesn’t matter if you have brains or not, if you have popularity, you have power. A homeless person in the sewer might recognize you more than I or even Kassandra.”

 

Panji narrowed his eyes, the gears in his mind churning. “Just tell me how.”

 

The Minister’s smirk deepened, a glint of malice in his eyes. “Zion doesn’t even know about you. He’s too focused on his next campaign. That boy is blind, but you… you know everything.”

 

Panji's voice echoed in the room as he shouted, “Just stop being cryptic! What do you want?”

 

The Minister’s expression turned serious. “If you want to defeat Zion, it’s by overcoming his popularity. The people’s hearts are with you right now. You must gain the soldiers’ loyalty. That is how you defeat him.”

 

“Wait, you want me to become a war hero?” Panji asked, incredulity spilling from his lips.

 

The Minister’s smile faded, replaced by a look of cold calculation. “The cycle is inevitable, Panji. But you can choose which side you’re on when it turns. You can be a part of the next great empire, or you can be crushed beneath its wheels.” He paused, his eyes fixed on Panji. “The choice is yours.”

Panji stared at the Minister. He understood now. This wasn’t just about Zion, or the Red Nation, or even the war. It was about something much bigger, something that had been repeating itself for centuries. And he was now being offered a role in that grand, tragic play.

Chapter 23 Sea Tribe

 

now our new protag become a local hero in red nation, its about war of heart and mind, but what happen to our little nara? well. she become more fall in love with our panji. yep that make us roll our eyes, but hey. love its love. and she know see a distance between him. she now join a gladiatoral combat to make panji see her again..well lets refresh our perpective a bit. by look at sea

in deep of pasific ocean. a hidden city. survive from nuclear holocaust in ww3. a place of the legedary robinhood pirate. Jozen

Atop a sleek aircraft carrier, Jozen, with his pale Asian features and blue hair tied back, presides over a lineup of prisoners. His mechanical arms loom over them as he delivers judgments with a mix of justice and whimsy “so guilty for working for red nation..” he then turn to next people “you guilty for spreading porn in netcom “ he then turn to next people “you guilty for..i dont know. i just dont like your vibe “ he then turn back and took a seat.

while his guard put the prisoner of giant air cannon. with raise his drink. he order his guard to begun a shot.the prisoner then fly to the air, other prisoner then tremble in fear, wait for impending doom.

As Jozen watches the prisoners launched from the air cannon, he thinks, "They're all just floating debris in the ocean of time. Some sink, some float. It doesn't really matter in the end."

tribal factions remnant in North America fled into the pasific. some is join jozen side. but not all of their interaction is rainbow and sunshine despite hate the same guy,, the tribal groups were treated like second-class citizens, seen as anarchist punks who hated tech a bit too much.

Meanwhile, out in the vast ocean, Low Tide, a warrior from the Seahorse Tribe, woke up stark naked on a raft. A storm had wrecked his fleet, leaving him stranded. on distant island he can see his ship. named the Sea Dancer is busted, and his crew is gone.

Alone and determined to survive for 100 days, he found himself surrounded by small trash islands. His new mission? Build pontoon bridges using materials like chapas, which were plentiful thanks to the collapse of underwater cities.

 

As day one broke, Low Tide took stock of his situation. His raft was busted, the sail was in tatters, and the undercurrent was too strong to swim against. But hey, he was alive, and the ocean didn't give a damn. : As Low Tide surveys his wrecked raft, he thinks, "The ocean doesn't care about my plans. It never has. It just keeps going, wave after wave." then he Remembering the Seahorse Tribe's saying, "Idle fish are easily speared," he got to work, gathering supplies and plotting his next moves.

 

On the third day, he repurposed the remnants of his tattered sail into makeshift tribal wear, a light garment to help him cope with the heat. He also started fishing, using the scraps as bait to catch larger creatures. His efforts paid off when he successfully hunted a green eel, adding it to his growing stash of resources.

 

Just then, a survivor from Jozen's launch, who had lost his memory, stumbled upon Low Tide. With nowhere else to go and survival on the line, he decided to join Low Tide on his quest.

 

Things were looking up. Another eel became lunch, and Low Tide stumbled upon a glowing sapling—probably a radiation mutant, but he preferred to think of it as a gift from the Sea Gods, but Low Tide didn’t know that. To him, it was a mythical find, so he plopped that glowing sapling right in the center of his tribal base.

 

By day five, the first section of the western bridge was done. Then, a foggy rainstorm decided to crash the party. The sand connecting the sandbars started to melt away like sugar in water. Low Tide scrambled to salvage what he could, but the relentless rain claimed everything, even the glowing sapling. The ocean, it seemed, had a sense of humor.

 

Undeterred, Low Tide decided to head north, drawn by rumors of a easy fishing. Then, BAM! Another storm hit, complete with vivid, terrifying visions of his tribe’s ships being crushed by waves. Ignoring the bad vibes, Low Tide braved the swaying northern bridge in the middle of the storm, because, you know, proving himself to the Sea Gods is important. He finished the bridge, celebrated with raw salmon and the remaining vodka, and promptly passed out.

The next morning, he found a wild, naked woman to the northwest. Not from his tribe. Looked tough, though. He decided to call her Maya. As the storm petered out into a heavy rain, they set to work on another section of the northern bridge. Halfway through, they ran out of planks. Time for some DIY lumberjacking.

Just when things seemed bleak, the Sea Gods (or maybe just random chance) delivered a magnificent dire bear—elk horns and all—to the southern sandbars. Thankfully, it stayed put. Low Tide scavenged what he could, playing a real-life Tetris game with his raft’s resources.

With supplies replenished, Low Tide resumed work on the westward bridge. Days blurred under a gloomy sky, the sea creatures looking extra grumpy. Even the tuna seemed to have an attitude. Low Tide’s hands were calloused, his back ached, but he kept going, finding small moments of peace in the sunsets. He worried he was the last of his tribe, the last seahorse.

Then, a stroke of luck: he fished up a madora—a plain white hat that instantly became his most prized possession. The next morning,

The next morning, he completed the first section of the western bridge, only to discover Maya’s skeletal remains. Wrapping her in eel leather, he buried her in the sand and said a prayer, hoping her spirit would find peace as he tried to comfort hers.

 

By day 15, Low Tide was pushing south, wrestling a red snapper for his bait – and eventually, his lunch. A cheeky dolphin tried to steal some, proving they weren’t all Flipper. His fishing trap then coughed up pemican, and within the hour, the southern bridge stretched to completion, revealing two chapas. He planted hay, dreaming of future crops.

He crafted a short bow, a perfect fit for his ranged skills, and added a stone-cutting station to his raft, turning coral into building blocks. The dolphin returned, but Low Tide was ready. One missed shot, one bullseye, a quick escape, and a well-earned dolphin steak cooked over a coral fire pit. “Look what I made! Fire!” he declared, feeling like a true survivor as the flames danced against the sunset.

The next few days settled into a routine of cooking, fishing, and organizing. Even a tussle with a sea snail provided a welcome break from the ocean’s monotony. A caravan from the Orange Ocean Settlement, led by the oddly named Terz Protein Newton and sporting distinctive orange hats, appeared on the horizon. Sadly, his fire wasn’t enough to lure them through the surrounding wreckage.

They finished the second part of the southern bridge and checked the improved fishing net. This time, it held a surprise: a shiny new SMG, a gift from the Sea Gods (or maybe just some careless pirate). It was basically a fancy bow, right?

Some days were a drag, others a chaotic mess. A sea snail became target practice, and they learned to avoid the sandbar’s sea sponges. Pushing east, Low Tide felt like he was stuck in a bridge-building Groundhog Day, but then he fished up gold and other treasures! A few hours later, a great white shark decided to test his mettle. Overconfident, Low Tide got too close and took a bite to the leg. He emptied his new SMG into the beast before it finally went belly up. Just a flesh wound, but those sharks were tough.

Then, raiders arrived, more interested in loot and slaves than Low Tide. Their fires stirred up the local wildlife, culminating in a spectacular shark vs. nuna showdown. Amidst the chaos, Low Tide befriended a chill sea turtle (no hunting this one). They fished, built an iron research bench, and then steel rained from the sky – another gift from above. On day 37, a man fell from the sky, too injured to help. Then another man crashed down.and at afternoon Traders from the League of Coya strolled past them like he wasn’t even there.

Low Tide finished fixing the textile spinning and played some supply Tetris to make room for the spinning wheel. Soon, they were churning out cloth like pros, using bison wool when the cotton ran out. The northeast bridge was completed, providing extra wood, storage, a log seat, and a drying rack.

Preparing for the western expansion, Low Tide rearranged everything again. Feeling drained, he downed an energy drink and worked at lightning speed

Day 55 brought a tame manta ray, quickly named Rey Mysterio. Low Tide built him a kelp bed, and they enjoyed a peaceful night – briefly. A lurking crocodile and a horrifying man-squid abomination soon changed that. A massive wave knocked Low Tide out, and a lightning strike jolted him awake. The ocean never gave him a break.

Lightning crackled, and memories flooded back, paralyzing him with fear. Rey nudged his leg, snapping him out of it. An elder’s words echoed in his mind: fear is like an ocean, it can drown you or be your ally. Low Tide dove beneath the waves, finding a moment of peace in the bioluminescent glow, where spectral sea creatures danced with Rey. Then, a whisper: "Maya." A spectral woman appeared, offering a warm touch before fading away. He resurfaced with Rey, laughing and crying, finally at one with the ocean.

Days blurred into a mix of work and survival. They faced man-hunting tortoises and kiwis, crafted coral blocks, and built planters. “What a fool I’ve been!” Low Tide exclaimed, filling the bridges with crops. His bond with Rey grew stronger. A dolphin, named Dolph ,”don’t laugh, it’s a great name!” lowtide said to other, then dolph joined their little crew.

 

On the 84th day, Rey playfully tugged Low Tide into deeper water, showing off his strength and sparking memories of tribal ocean lore. Low Tide wondered if his own tribe had possessed such deep sea knowledge. He then had the brilliant idea to make a backpack—why hadn't he thought of that sooner? September became a blur of skirmishes, weird animal encounters, and a scorching heatwave that nearly cooked him alive. A poor kid named Molt crash-landed nearby amidst some space junk, but didn't last long.

By day 99, he'd reached the Sea Dancer. Months of work had led to this, and Low Tide eagerly set about restoring his ship. Planks were cut, the lantern refueled—the Seahorse Tribe was back in business! While fixing the deck, he discovered some dusty old parchments hidden in a compartment. Jackpot! Diagrams and instructions for flippers and animal training—chieftain-level secrets! He was itching to dive into them, but the ship came first.

As the restoration continued, a nagging thought crept into his mind: Why was he doing this? He’d been so focused on reaching the ship, but now it felt…empty. He'd hoped it would bring back his tribe, but they were gone. The Sea Dancer was just a ghost of what it once was.

 He thought fixing the ship would somehow bring back his tribe, but they were gone. The wreckage was just rotting wooden bones.

 

By day 111, Low Tide had finished his research on flippers. Using salvaged rubber wheels, he carefully cut and shaped them, finally creating two functional pairs. They felt awkward on land, but in the water, they transformed him, allowing him to glide through the currents with newfound ease. He practiced in the shallows, growing bolder with each passing day.

This newfound mobility opened up deeper waters, but also brought new dangers. He encountered larger predators and stronger currents, and one close call with a reef shark served as a stark reminder of the ocean’s power. He realized that if he was going to venture further from the island, he would need help.

Over the next week, he began training his companions. Using a combination of gestures and sounds, he taught Dolph to scout ahead and Rey Mysterio to carry him when necessary. Dolph, though small, was quick and agile, perfect for reconnaissance. Rey, surprisingly strong, could easily navigate the deeper currents while carrying Low Tide on his back. By the end of the week, they were a well-coordinated team, ready for whatever the ocean threw at them.

On day 133, Low Tide stood on the deck of the restored Sea Dancer, taking in the sight of the trash island that had been his home for so long. It had been a place of hardship and isolation, a constant psychological battle against the loneliness and the endless cycle of sunrises and sunsets. But it was also a place where he had rediscovered his resilience, forged new friendships, and found a new purpose. This island was where his tribe was lost, but also where his new tribe was found. The most important lesson he had learned: if you find yourself, you can overcome anything.

 

The Sea Dancer sat docked against the trash island, a makeshift home. Low Tide no longer saw himself as a nomad, but something else entirely… a sea villager, perhaps.

 

He didn’t know what awaited them beyond the horizon, but he realized they didn’t need to search for a home. As long as they had each other, they were already there. He smiled at the newest members of the Seahorse Tribe, and together, they set off into the unknown.

Meanwhile, Jozen's operation had taken an unexpected turn. The Sea Tribe's journey, initially intended as mere observation, had morphed into a hit documentary series. Blue Nation cameras, always present, had captured Low Tide's struggles in painstaking detail, transforming his desperate fight for survival into something resembling a BBC nature program—albeit one set in a flooded, post-apocalyptic world. The irony wasn't lost on anyone: Low Tide, a man just trying to stay alive, had become a sensation, a symbol of hope without even realizing it. lowtide become a popular even without trying to be someone else

Chapter 24 Pirate den

 

Meanwhile, deep in the ocean, a giant bubble held a hidden metropolis, with a tower-like structure at its center acting as a hub and port, connecting the ocean floor to the surface, Once a luxury resort catering to the global elite, a hedonistic playground known as "Poseidon's Pearl," this place transformed into the main city of the Blue Nation after WW3 and the great EMP collapse, turning what used to mimic a sandy chick's home into a bustling center of activity.

In one of the underground cities called ARIA, Jozen watched the seahorse tribe and other tribes living on the surface of Trash Island. He secretly enjoyed their progress, even though he wasn’t directly involved. Once, they had used Trash Island as a banishment zone, but now he felt a master-pet relationship with them, especially as they began to see his actions as god-like.

Jozen watched the flickering images on the screen, the struggles of the surface dwellers a distant echo in his underwater world. He had given them a chance, a small corner of his vast domain, and they had… adapted. He almost felt a sense of pride.

 

After finishing a documentary about their journey, he turned his attention to the lab. In front of him was a holographic AI resembling Ruan Mei, the mad scientist killed by Alam. Before her death, she had stored her memories as data, and Jozen used her memory to fuel his own ambitions.

 

Since breaking away from the Red Nation, he declared himself the Blue Nation, acting as a playful jab at Zion. His attention shifted, however, as a summons arrived. A meeting was about to begin, one that would set the course for the Blue Nation's next move

 

Until one day, in a meeting at Aria, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Among the serious elite figures in suits and military uniforms,

 

two figures commanded attention. La Buse, the self-proclaimed "Admiral of the Caribbean Fleet," sported flowing blonde hair and a pristine white hakama, the traditional Japanese garment incongruously adorned with stylized, glowing kanji that shifted and rearranged themselves.

 

Beside him stood Olga Valvara, the imposing “Sea Wolf pirates,” draped in arctic fox fur and a wide-brimmed hat crowned with a single, crimson feather – a trophy from some exotic avian species.

 

Jozen sat at the center of the table, ready to speak after a long, tedious meeting. Olga and La Buse lingered in the hallway, taking in the dreamy blue cityscape outside. Below them, the people of the Blue Nation moved about the streets—some walking on their own limbs, others sporting mechanical ones, and a few using drones for transport. Some even rode in pods along train-like lines, fully embracing the pre-war technology that surrounded them.

 

As the meeting adjourned, Olga and La Buse lingered in the hallway, the weight of Jozen's words hanging in the air

 

La Buse, clutching his ancient Game Boy, broke the silence. “Do you guys viking like anime?”

 

Olga snorted, “No, you silly boy. We prefer blood and mushrooms!”

 

La Buse kept his eyes glued to his Game Boy. “I should sell those animes to your unwashed crew then.”

 

Olga lowered her wine glass, shaking her head. “No thanks, weeb. I don’t want to brainwash my crew with ancient cartoons.”

 

La Buse shoots her a sharp look. “Hey, what's with the nickname? I’m not a weeb! Anime isn’t just a cartoon; it’s a rich art form filled with love, adventure, and friendship. Some of it is genuinely beautiful!”

 

Olga chuckles mockingly, “Oh yeah? Not a weeb? That’s what every weeb says! And I appreciate anime as much as I do mushrooms.”

 

“Come on, matey! Anime is just a glorified cartoon with a Japanese twist!” she teases.

 

“Yeah? And mushrooms are just ordinary fungi!” La Buse retorts, his voice rising. “Great anime can touch hearts!”

 

“Right, and that makes it any less silly?” Olga laughs sarcastically. “You’re too blind to see it’s just mindless entertainment for mindless consumers!”

 

La Buse, clearly agitated, almost shouts, “You’re wrong! Anime expresses stories and emotions in a visually appealing way. You just lack the open-mindedness to appreciate the finer things in life!”

 

Rolling her eyes, Olga shoots back, “Calm down, weeb boy. Do you even remember what Jozen said before? I didn’t quite catch it.”

 

“What!? Stop calling me ‘weeb boy’! It’s disrespectful!” La Buse takes a deep breath to calm himself. “I remember what Jozen said. It was about the potential for escalation on the battlefield.”

 

“Good. Now let’s put the anime debate aside and focus on strategy. What do we know about Red Nation’s current position? Where are their military bases, and what kind of defenses do they have?” Olga asks firmly.

 

La Buse responds, “From our intel, Red Nation has three main bases. One in Anchorage, Canada, where they’ve got a huge, well-equipped army. The second is in Toronto, also well-guarded. The last is in Los Angeles, their capital. They have superior technology and well-trained troops. As for weaknesses… they have none.”

 

Olga smirks, “Hmm, they sound formidable. But even the strongest army has weaknesses. Notice how all their bases are on coasts? If we attack them by sea, we could gain a huge advantage.”

 

“Good point,” La Buse concedes. “They do favor coastal cities. But we can’t underestimate their Navy. While we’re well-trained, we don’t have the numbers to match their sheer power. We’ll need a tactical plan that leverages our strengths and minimizes our weaknesses.”

 

“I agree,” Olga says. “But we have the edge in naval technology and tactics. Our ships are modern and agile. Let’s use your submarines to sneak behind enemy lines for surprise attacks. We can also use fast vessels to disrupt their supply lines and draw their ships into open waters, where we are stronger.”

 

La Buse nods, “I’m glad you’re being reasonable now. My submarines can launch surprise attacks, and our smaller vessels can disrupt their supply lines. This strategy has potential; I’m ready to greenlight it.”

 

“Excellent,” Olga replies. “We’ll use your submarines for stealthy attacks and smaller vessels to weaken their supply. Once Red Nation is destabilized, we can strike decisively at their main base.”

 

“Agreed,” La Buse says, determination in his eyes. “For this plan to succeed, we need the element of surprise. The Red Nation mustn’t see us coming until it’s too late.”

 

As Jozen oversaw the preparations for the upcoming conflict, a thought crossed his mind. He wondered if the chaos on the surface would eventually ripple down to the depths of the ocean. Perhaps, a certain young rebel, a rising star in the resistance against Red Nation, would play a crucial role in shaping the future of both worlds.

 

Once a bandit mercenary, Panji has transformed into a hero. His newfound popularity springs from his genuine rebellion against one of the most manipulative nations on Earth. In a world where authenticity is a rare commodity, Panji’s spirit shines brightly.

 

Meanwhile, far from the underwater city of ARIA, weeks after the events at the Free World Media building, Panji returned to Red Summer, greeted by the same maid who fought alongside him during the Justice Arc. Now dressed in her professional maid attire, she guides him to meet the lord.

 

“Congratulations, Panji! You’re just one step away. You’ve freed this land,” the lord exclaims, arms wide open.

 

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s cut to the chase. What do you know about the Mammoth? They’re like the CIA of the White Nation, right?” Panji replies bluntly.

 

“Yes, exactly,” the lord acknowledges. “They are the unethical agents behind that Persever Tech. There are many theories about them. Some say they want to incite conflicts between nations to keep them in the Stone Age, ensuring Madagascar’s tech remains unmatched. Others believe they are simply a necessary evil in our dynamic world.”

 

“What do you mean, 'necessary power'?” Panji presses.

 

“Think about it this way: on a global scale, you need justification for war. You can’t just bash heads like in gang wars; you need a reason. War is about control,” the lord explains.

 

“So they’re just overpaid assholes? The minister is one of them” Panji retorts. then continue

 

“If Zion builds its reputation on killing, I’ll build mine on saving lives,” Panji declares.

 

The lord smiles. “Yes, and I’ll back you up. And once this is all over, let’s take down the minister too.”

 

 

Panji smiles and hands the lord a bracelet from Eden. The lord accepts it, nostalgia flickering in his eyes. “From Eden, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah… what’s the story?” Panji asks, curiosity piqued.

 

The lord nods. “In the past, she was one of my maids. During Zion's conquest of Los Angeles, she was among the refugees trying to escape the city. She was injured badly… so she retired.”

 

“Cool story,” Panji replies, his tone casual.

 

With shared resolve, Panji and the lord strategize their next moves, ready to confront the chaos ahead.

 

As Panji prepares to leave, the maid drops her professional facade. “So, the hero sets sail into the unknown, leaving his woman behind?” she teases.

 

Panji, revving his motorbike, glances back with a smile before speeding off into the sunset. The maid waves at him, then sighs, turning to the other maids. “Alright, girls, let’s prepare dinner for our lord.”

 

After his meeting with the lord, Panji hopped on his motorbike, the setting sun painting the sky in hues of orange and red. As he sped down the highway

 

Suddenly, a copper chopper swoops low in front of him. The chopper descended rapidly, its rotors churning the air. Panji gripped his handlebars tightly, gauging the distance, the wind whipping at his face. With a burst of speed, he angled his bike up the descending ramp, the front wheel bumping slightly as he entered the cargo hold."

 

Chrome greets him with a grin, both impressed and irritated. “You asshole… you know that?”

 

Panji removes his shades and replies nonchalantly, “I know.”

 

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the chopper in a crimson glow as it sped eastward, toward the vast expanse of Asia, a land beyond the Free World and the Pacific. The Justice gang, once rebels fighting against the system, now found themselves unwillingly absorbed into it. Some embraced their new roles as soldiers under Panji, while others were content to be local heroes. On a small monitor within the chopper, Veronica, the same news anchor they'd encountered at the Free World Media building, appeared on screen,

 

"World News: 2401 AD - Just a year after the formation of the New Old Council, Central Asia braces for the encroaching shadow of the Blood Khaganate, a vassal state of the Red Nation. In a desperate attempt to avert global war, the NWC has imposed a weapons embargo on the region. But as the old adage goes, 'War never changes, only the players do.'"

 

panji then rub his mechanical finger. and look at the blisfully soldier around him. joking and boasting how many head they smash in past. But Panji, a veteran of countless mercenary battles, knew this was different. This wasn’t a gang war fought in the back alleys of a crumbling city. This was something bigger, something far more brutal. He turned his gaze to the setting sun, its fiery reflection shimmering on the sea below. They were diving headfirst into a new kind of war, a war that would test them in ways they couldn’t yet imagine.

 

Chapter 25 Road to ww4

 

Welcome to Central Asia, a charming wasteland where warmongering warlords play king and former mercs are now jobless and bound by no law. It’s a powder keg just waiting to blow.

 

First things first, Alam needs weapons and guns. How does he get them? Through the black market, of course. Carmelita, the woman in the black veil, who’s been tasked with ensuring the weapon supply and governing the western territories, which are mostly in Europe for the Wanderers. This way, Alam can focus on his eastern campaign. For now, he’s on the lookout for a new secretary to help him reclaim his lost territory.

 

In Alam's office, a holographic map of Central Asia lights up in front of them. Eleanor, Alam's new secretary and a savvy blonde strategist, leans in.

 

"They're consolidating power," she says, her voice low. "Each general is a piece in a deadly game, vying for control. We need to disrupt their plans before they checkmate us into oblivion. The Red Nation is sending their own mercs and weapons to the Khaganate, but it’s only a matter of time before they send in the real army."

 

Before Alam can even wrap his head around that, a spy bursts in. "Leader, there's growing discord within the Blood Khaganate. Feihong's strategic brilliance is clashing with Baihu's reckless charges."

 

It’s starting to look a lot like the U.S. intervention in Afghanistan, where they supported rebels to counter the Soviets, only to have some of those rebels turn into the Taliban and Al-Qaeda, who later turned on the U.S. The same goes for the Red Nation's relationship with the Khaganate; some Khaganate generals are proving to be rebellious and not fully united, especially after their failure defeating alam in last winter war.

 

And here come Zhang, Mei, and Li—three colorful characters bursting with enthusiasm. Zhang looks like he stepped out of a historical drama, Mei’s in a dress that could double as a party invitation, and Li’s got more tattoos than a biker convention. They chime in, "We stand ready to serve, Master Alam!" with the kind of fervor usually reserved for cult leaders.

 

Alam sighs, contemplating the joys of leadership "Alright, let's take over the world, one merc group at a time. But first, let's deal with the Blood Khaganate, because they're kind of a big deal."

 

Alam nods, and Eleanor projects a holographic map of Central Asia, highlighting key merc groups. "Zhang, negotiate with the Vanara Vanguard. Li, scout the Garuda Legion. Mei, charm your way into the Scrap Queen's stronghold."

 

Eleanor turns to Alam. "The choice is yours, Master. Will you fight to secure the land? Or forge alliances?"

 

Alam replies, "I miss being in the field... hehe... Who's the most troublesome merc?"

 

Eleanor answers, "The Garuda Legion is strong, and Baihu is a reckless general who charges enemy lines alone. Destabilizing their leadership is best. Use Li's charm to make her fall for him and infiltrate their stronghold. The information will be invaluable for planning our next strike."

 

Alam decides, "I'll deal with the Garuda personally. The rest of you, handle the others. Any questions?"

 

"No questions, master. We'll get to work immediately," Eleanor responds

 

 The team shakes their heads in unison, eager to jump into action, leaving Alam to ponder his next moves.

 

“Now, about this Garuda situation…” he muses as the screen flickers to life, showcasing a chaotic battlefield. A lone figure in crimson rides through the fray like she’s auditioning for a role in a superhero flick. Her horse—let’s just say it makes Pegasus look like a donkey cutting through enemy lines with ease. Yet, her reckless disregard for her own safety and that of her troops was evident.

 

eleanor then comment ““That’s Baihu, charging into enemy lines with a kris blade charged up with geothermal power”

 

Alam, puzzled, asks, "What do you mean with geothermal power? Is that another... umm... what is called... BEDTIME STORY?!"

 

Eleanor clarifies, "Well, it's a bit complicated to explain, but essentially, it boils down to this: The Garuda Legion has access to geothermal technology, an advanced form of heat-based weaponry. This allows them to create powerful beams or waves of heat, So, if you want to take her down, you'll have to find a way to counter her geothermal advantage."

 

Alam orders, "Alright,sci-fi shit,, send a spy... mhm, Yes, yes... I wanna go too."

 

Eleanor shows another map of the surrounding area, including hills, forests, and rivers. There are several paths that lead to the Garuda Legion's stronghold, but they all narrow at certain points, making it easier for them to defend against an assault.

 

Alam, curious, asks, "Is there a volcano or something nearby? You said they harvest geothermal stuff."

 

Eleanor explains, "Yes, the Garuda Legion's stronghold is located near a geothermal zone. this geothermal power source provides a double-edged sword. You can also use it against them if you wish..."

 

Alam instructs, "Okay, please prioritize the spy mission to examine this mechanism. Meanwhile, prepare the Hind with an escort team. I wanna see with my own eyes."

 

Eleanor confirms, "Understood. We'll prioritize the spy mission to examine the geothermal technology. As for the Hind, we'll keep it at stand-by with an escort team until you return from the Garuda Legion's stronghold. Any other orders, Master?"

 

Alam pats Eleanor's head. "Nothing... You do a good job."

 

Eleanor blushes. "Thank you, master. I'm always at your service."

 

Alam, ready to go, says, "Yeah... See you later."

 

As Alam prepares to leave, he can’t help but feel a twinge of excitement. “Alright, pray to Gott to bless our mission!” He boards the Hind, ready for whatever chaos awaits.

 

Alam dons a disguise and signals the pilot. The Hind lands a few meters from the main entrance of the Garuda Legion's stronghold, located at the edge of a geothermal field. The main entrance is heavily guarded by armed guards with anti-aircraft cannons. The pilot leaned back, probably wondering if he’d signed up for a war or a comedy show.

 

Alam, confident with just armed with medival sword and pistol, dismounts and starts walking toward the entrance. The Garuda guard quickly spots him approaching and aims their guns at him.

 

“Who are you? What do you want?” one of the guards barked, his gun trained on Alam like it was a laser pointer on a cat. “State your business or get ready to become a human target practice!”

 

Alam, unfazed, replies, "Yeah, I heard you guys have a problem finding weapons and ammo. I'm from the Emerald League. I know connections to the black market arsenal. Tell that to your leader."

 

The guard's eyes narrowed but he relayed the message to General Baihu. Moments later, the door swung open, revealing Baihu herself—a vision in crimson who looked like she stepped out of a fantasy novel, complete with a sword that could probably slice through space-time.

 

"So, which of the top mercenary leagues sent you here to meet me? And how do you plan to secure us weapons and ammo?" Baihu asks.

 

Alam, smooth-talking, says, "Oh, wonderful woman... So you're the leader of this base?"

 

Baihu, intrigued, responds, "My, my, what a smooth talker you are. Are you really from the Emerald League? I bet they sent the most handsome guy here to tempt me." She smirks at Alam. He's certainly got confidence. A welcome change from the stiff formality of my officers. Though, tempting me? He has no idea what he's getting into.

 

Alam, playing along, says, "Hoho... Perhaps..." He draws a document about various types of guns and ammo.

 

Baihu, interested, says, "Hmhm... I see that is a fine list of weapons that you offer. Let me have a closer look at the list."

 

She walks toward Alam, stops for a moment, and then bends forward, as if she's going to whisper something in his ear.

 

Alam, keeping up the act, says, "Yeah... Finding goods is easy... Finding a buyer is hard."

 

She then whispers something in Alam's ear. "Oh, I see... You can also secure the buyer for our black market deal... That's amazing news."

 

A middleman, then. Clever. This could be more useful than I thought. She steps closer to Alam and stands right in front of him. She smells his scent and smirks, her body slowly touching him. He smells of… ozone and something faintly metallic. Intriguing.

 

Alam faced Baihu, the fiery leader of the Garuda Legion, with a question hanging in the air: "Do you have money?"

 

Baihu's eyes danced with mischief. "Maybe," she teased, "but play your cards right, and I might give you something more valuable than money." He's not falling for it. Good. I wouldn't respect him if he did.

 

Alam chuckled, shifting the conversation. "I've heard you have some interesting tech here—geothermal stuff?"

 

Baihu's smirk widened. "Oh, you're referring to our geothermal technology. It's rare, expensive, and incredibly powerful. It allows us to create devastating beams and waves of heat. Interested?"

 

Alam nodded, intrigued. "I might be able to trade for it."

 

Baihu's interest piqued. "What do you have in mind? I need to ensure this is a fair deal."

 

Alam, with a playful tone, asked, "Can I see it first? I just want to make sure."

 

Baihu's expression shifted, her smirk deepening as she leaned closer to Alam's ear. "Spicy talk," she whispered, her voice laced with temptation. He's definitely enjoying this. As am I. But I won't let him forget who's in charge. "But before we discuss tech, can I ask you something?"

 

Alam, curious, agreed. "Sure, what is it?"

 

Baihu's voice dropped to a sultry whisper. "Can you kiss my neck?" Let's see if he's all talk.

 

Alam, caught off guard, laughed. "You're quite the lonely woman here, aren't you? I can offer you more than that."

 

Baihu's face lit up with enjoyment, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. "I didn't expect such a bold offer so soon. I'm not shy, so I'll take you up on that."

 

Alam, ever the businessman, steered the conversation back. "But first, let's talk about your geothermal toy."

 

Baihu, amused, played along. "Oh, you want to see it? Then let's go." He's persistent. I respect that. She grabbed Alam's hand, leading him through the stronghold's bustling courtyard. Besides, I am curious to see his reaction.

 

And just like that, Alam was deep in enemy territory, balancing seduction and scheming like a high-stakes game of chess

 

As they walked, Baihu leaned close, her whisper hot against Alam's ear. "My geothermal toy is our most powerful asset. It's why we're confident in our defenses. And I'm confident I can make you scream, too."

 

Alam, intrigued, asked, "How did you acquire it?"

 

Baihu's smirk widened. "We took it from a team of scientists. They were close to discovering it, but we got there first." She leaned even closer, her fingers playing with Alam's collar. "I'm willing to share it with you, but there's a condition..."

 

Alam, curious, pressed, "What's the condition?"

 

Baihu's voice was a sultry promise. "You must satisfy my every wish if you want to see my geothermal toy. Do you accept?"

 

Alam, with a laugh, agreed. "I thought you'd want money, but sure, why not?"

 

Baihu, her body moving closer, whispered, "I don't care about money. I know what I really need."

 

Alam, sensing her desire, asked, "What's your motivation?"

 

Baihu's response was a mix of power and vulnerability. "I lead the Garuda Legion, but sometimes I want to be more than just a commander. You can give me what my men can't."

 

Alam, nodded. "Your soldiers can't give you what you truly desire, only me."

 

Baihu, her excitement growing, whispered, "Exactly. I feel powerful commanding my forces, but sometimes I just want to feel weak."

 

Alam,  suggested, "Let's find somewhere private."

 

Baihu, blushing and giggling, agreed. "Yes, let's find a place where it's just you and me."

 

Alam, taking her hand, asked, "Show me your favorite place."

 

Baihu, her blush deepening, whispered, "I want to bring you to my bedroom, a place where no one can hear us."

 

Alam, playing along, responded, "Sounds good."

 

Baihu, her excitement palpable, whispered, "I'm sure you're already excited. But before we go there, I need to make sure you're the right person for me."

 

She stopped, placing her hands on Alam's chest. "Are you a good person? Can you treat a woman right? Can you promise to satisfy me?"

 

Alam, with a thoughtful response, said, "I can bring you something beyond lust—love."

 

Baihu, impressed, whispered, "Love? I didn't expect that from you. But how can you ensure this 'love' isn't just a disguise for your lust?"

 

Alam, with a gentle tone, suggested, "Let's take it slow, and you'll see if I'm the right man for you."

 

Baihu, her blush deepening, whispered, "I like that idea. Take it slow, and I'll be the judge. But remember, once you're with me, there's no going back."

 

Alam, with a teasing smile, changed the subject. "Let's not be possessive. Actually, I've changed my mind. Show me your geothermal stuff first."

 

Baihu, surprised but amused, agreed. "You're quite the tease. I like that. Come, let me show you our geothermal power source."

 

As they walked through the long tunnel, Baihu's body brushed against Alam's, her whisper hot and tempting. "I bet you can't wait to see my geothermal toy. How would you feel if I did something to you before you see it?"

 

Alam, feeling the heat, wiped his sweat. "Is it just me, or is it getting hotter in here?"

 

Baihu, her laughter soft, whispered, "The temperature here is always hot, but it's only getting hotter with you around." She slowed her pace, her body close to Alam's. "I might need to show you some 'warmth' now."

 

Alam, caught in the moment, responded, "Yeah..."

 

Baihu, her voice a sultry promise, whispered, "I can see the heat overtaking you. Let me take care of it." She stepped closer, her whisper a tantalizing offer. "Would you let this hot lady take care of the heat inside you?"

 

Alam, with a playful retort, said, "No, not you—this tunnel is just too hot."

Baihu giggles again, her voice laced with playful insinuation. "Oh, so the tunnel is hot itself, huh? But you're here with me, alone with me in this hot tunnel. A guy and a girl, alone in an enclosed place." She whispers, her breath hot against Alam's ear, "Are you sure you're not thinking about something more than just the tunnel heat?"

 

Alam, trying to maintain his composure, shushes her. "Just hold your horse till we see the stuff."

 

Baihu giggles at Alam's response, her voice a sultry promise. "Well, just like you wish. I will hold on to my horse. But remember... the moment we reach my geothermal plant... the moment you lay your eyes on it... I can't hold my horse anymore..."

 

The tunnel slowly widens as they approach the geothermal plant, the temperature rising. Baihu's voice is filled with anticipation. "Well, we're getting closer... we should soon reach the geothermal plant..."

 

Alam, impressed, asks, "Wow, so you manage to extract the power? But how do you use it for weapons?"

 

Baihu smiled, her voice dripping with pride as she leaned closer. “Yes, we’ve mastered extracting the immense power of geothermal energy here. We use it for weapons, defense, and even for brewing the best coffee in Central Asia. Basically, this geothermal powerhouse is the backbone of our civilization!” She paused for dramatic effect, then added with a wink, “But enough about our geothermal prowess; let me show you the real magic.”

 

“Okay,” Alam replied, trying not to sound too eager.

 

With a mischievous glint in her eyes, Baihu took his hand and quickened their pace like they were racing toward a theme park. “You’re so patient, Alam. I like that in a man. Most guys want it right away, but you—oh, you’re different. How long can you be patient?”

 

Alam forced smile,start to irritated with her constant flirting “Well, only Gott knows. But I’m willing to find out.”

 

Baihu halted, her face inches from his, a smirk playing on her lips. “If only God knows, then maybe I should take matters into my own hands.” She leaned in, her breath warm against his neck. “Shall I test your patience?”

 

“Shh,” Alam replied, trying to focus as they stepped through a heavy metal door, the air hitting them like a furnace blast, thick with heat and the clanging of machinery.. Baihu led him through a maze of tunnels, pointing out the intricate workings of the geothermal system.Finally, they reached a glass protector and terminal. Baihu pressed a button, and the protective cover hissed open, like a veil being drawn back from a window into hell.

 

A fiery glow spilled out, illuminating Baihu’s face in a harsh, orange light. The air roared with the sound of escaping steam.  Massive tubes, filled with surging lava, stretched from floor to ceiling, the heat radiating outwards in palpable waves, held back only by the fragile barrier of glass and the swirling, ever-present steam that shrouded the scene in an eerie, otherworldly haze.

 

the lava surging and seething behind a thick glass barrier, the power of the machine radiating outwards,the sight make his heart thumping hard. This was not just a weapon. This was a force of nature

Chapter 26 Turkestan Gangster

Just as Alam started examining a thermal machine,

 

Baihu leaned in, her voice sultry. “I can tell you’re way too excited right now… so I think I should punish you for it.” She leaned even closer, her tone playful, “Do you want to feel my punishment?”

 

“Whoa, this isn’t that kind of deal!” Alam chuckled,he trying to hide his emotion. and  patting her head. “But hey, tell me your story.”

 

Surprised by the gesture, Baihu giggled, leaning into his touch. “Aww, thanks for that! My story? Well, what do you want to know?”

 

“Let’s start with how a woman like you ended up leading an army in a foreign land.” Alam said, gesturing the nearby monitor showing the makeshift command center they’d established around the power plant.

 

Baihu’s eyes sparkled with pride. “You find it surprising that a woman can lead men in battle? Isn’t that adorable?” She whispered, “It’s not easy, you know. Many doubt my abilities just because I’m a woman. “ She traced a finger along the edge of a holographic map displaying troop movements. “It’s a world ruled by strength, darling. And I have plenty of that.”

 

“Sounds like you climbed the ranks,” Alam said, intrigued.

 

“Oh, I did! My journey wasn’t a walk in the park. Being a woman in command isn’t a cakewalk. But I’m here to show everyone that we can kick just as much butt as the boys!” She leaned in, her voice low. “But do you really think a man could do a better job than me?”

 

Alam, amused, replied, “Well, men and women are equal in mind…”

 

Baihu giggled, her whisper teasing. “That’s true! But our biology gives us unique advantages. So, are you okay with the fact that you’re chatting with a female General? Does it bother you?”

 

“Not at all,” Alam replied, “But what’s your relationship like with other mercs?”

 

With a deep breath, Baihu smiled and said, “We keep close ties with most merc groups in Central Asia. We’ve got our competition, of course, but we maintain a cordial relationship. What about you?”

 

“I’ve got strong connections with the European mercs. But what do you think about the Blood Khaganate and the Red Nation?”

 

Baihu’s expression sobered. “The Blood Khaganate? They’re one of our top adversaries in Central Asia. Their military strength is nothing to sneeze at. When we meet them in battle, it’s always a bloodbath.” She paused, then added, “And the Red Nation? They’re our main enemy, armed to the teeth with advanced technology.”

 

“Do you have plans to ally with anyone to take them down?” Alam asked, curiosity piqued.

 

Baihu hesitated, weighing her words. “I’m open to temporary alliances with any merc groups, as long as they share our common enemy and our partnership isn’t forever.” She leaned in, lowering her voice. “But there’s one group I won’t ally with…”

 

Alam leaned in, eager. “Who, and why?”

 

“Flying Dragon,” she whispered, her voice laced with caution. “Led by the infamous Dragon Master. They’re the most brutal and feared mercenary group in Central Asia. Nobody wants to mess with them. But if we could take them down, our path would be much clearer.”

 

“Interesting,” Alam said, intrigued by this new player. “What do you think of the Wanderers?”

 

Baihu’s interest was piqued. “The Wanderers? They’re a mystery! They show up when it’s critical and vanish like magic. Do you know more about them?”

 

Alam decided it was time to drop the mask. “I’m actually one of them. My mission is to stop the Blood Khaganate.”

 

Baihu’s eyes widened in shock. “Wait, you’re a Wanderer? They’re the most enigmatic mercs around! So, you’re here to stop the Blood Khaganate too? But why not protect Central Asia?”

Alam grinned, seizing the moment. “How about we swap some tech for an alliance? We can team up to take down the Blood Khaganate together.”

Baihu eyed Alam, her expression a mix of intrigue and caution. She toyed with a strand of her hair, a thoughtful silence filling the room. Finally, she nodded, a slow, calculating smile spreading across her lips. "A temporary alliance, you say? To eliminate the Blood Khaganate?" Her voice was low, almost a whisper. "Perhaps... But once the dust settles, we'll each pursue our own goals."

“Deal!” Alam exclaimed,. “But here’s the kicker: if I’m working with you, I can’t ally with the Flying Dragon”

Baihu’s smile widened, clearly enjoying the banter. “You’re really into this, huh? The Flying Dragon’s base is in Hong Kong, and their strength? Well, it’s a mystery wrapped in an enigma. They take on any client with cash, and their numbers? Just as cloudy as my morning coffee!”

Alam chimed in. “I’m planning to visit other mercs to build my power base and form alliances.”

Baihu nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll be doing the same! Once the Blood Khaganate is history, I’ll be expanding my mercenary empire. Let’s rally the troops for our temporary alliance!”

Alam extended his hand, beaming. “Alright, darling. I’m Alam.”

Baihu took his hand, shaking it with a flirtatious twinkle in her eye. “Pleasure to strike a deal with you, Alam. Can I call you by your first name?”

“Absolutely! You can throw in ‘sweetie,’ ‘dear,’ or even ‘honey’ if you like,” Alam replied with a playful grin. “And after this chaos, I’ll gladly make a lot of love with you.”

Baihu blushed, leaning in closer, her voice a sultry whisper. “Oh really? You want to make love with me? Well, since you’re being so open, let me be open too. When this chaos is over, I want to feel your warm touch…”

“Alright, alright, let’s not get too carried away,” Alam chuckled, redirecting the conversation. “Shall we do some paperwork first?”

Baihu nodded, following him with a mischievous smile. “Of course! Let’s finish the formalities… hehe…”

After, that they leave the geothermal machinery complex. and go to surface, and like after what felt like an eternity of paperwork and treaties, Alam announced, “Well, dear, I need to report back to my base soon.”

Baihu glanced at the clock, surprised. “Oh my, it’s already late? I didn’t even notice we spent hours on paperwork!” She giggled, “Well, it seems it’s time to wrap things up. But before we go, can I ask you something?”

Alam leaned in, gently kissing her hand. “Shh, is that enough? Hehe.”

Baihu, blushing, couldn’t help but grin. “I guess that’s enough for now… But tell me, do you want to go somewhere else? Maybe somewhere more… private?”

“Shh, I’m still on a mission, dear,” Alam said, keeping his focus. “Maybe later, but thanks”

Baihu sighed, understanding. “Ah, I see… Well, maybe next time…”

As a parting gift, Alam removed his sword and handed it to her. “This is a sign of our relationship. If you miss me, just hug it, hehe.”

Baihu’s eyes sparkled with surprise. “Are you sure you want to give me your sword? Because I won’t give it back… I might just hug it… or kiss it too…”

Alam chuckled, patting her head one last time. “Alright, see you later!”

Baihu waved softly, her voice sweet. “Farewell, my honey… I will wait for your return…”

Alam pushed the memory of Baihu's flirtations aside. This was business. He had an alliance to forge and a war to win. Personal matters would have to wait."

Meanwhile, Baihu was busy expanding her empire, knowing she had backup. The Khaganate forces on her border turned to ash under her relentless tactics. Had Alam just unleashed a new monster on this powder keg, or would this alliance truly bring an end to the chaos?

 

In a different realm, a town plastered with military posters touting freedom, glory, and family was buzzing with activity. The Blood Khaganate’s flag waved proudly, while officers donned animal horned helmets mixed with high-tech exosuits. Their soldiers, armed with rusty bolt-action rifles and simple SMGs, looked like a bizarre mash-up of WWII Japan and the Mongol horde, complete with skull-decorated tanks and camel-mounted mortars.

 

Among the men, three figures stand at the front of the parade. A woman in black ornamented attire speaks, "We must attack before Zion arrives. That is the only way we maintain our autonomy." A man beside her, with a scar on his eye from shrapnel, responds, "We don't have the numbers again. Defense is the art of victory." A man in the center, with black hair on his wrinkle-free face, declares, "We must prioritize our army to defeat the traitor first. Alam must fall; he is only a symbol of resistance. If he goes down, all opposition will lose cohesion." The other two nodded in agreement, plotting their next move against the chaotic forces of Alam and Baihu.

in current asia map. its was full of rainbows. in left corner. wanderer set foot the there. and in east siberia, china and mongol. the khaganate is dominate all. while smaller faction like Garuda Legion, in south of wanderer. alam and baihu now are in convinient position.

other than red nation. there is other major nation who playing complicated game of chest on the eastern wasteland.

in south. there is a purple nation, at bellow corner of west map. just at edge of himalayan mountains.

other than that is was other factions of scavangers, tribes, and city-states ruled by warlords – the usual wasteland fare.

As the Wanderers set out to expand into the eastern wasteland, they rolled out in a mobile base that looked like a train of trailers. It was equipped with water tanks and living quarters, making it a cozy little home on wheels. Bikers zipped around, scouting ahead, while drones buzzed overhead, keeping an eye on the terrain. The air was dry, and during the day, it could get scorching hot, but at night, the temperature dropped, leaving them shivering under the stars.

 

After a while, they reached a cliff area with high, uneven terrain. The landscape was dotted with plateaus, shaped by erosion and earthquakes, revealing a maze of reddish-brown earth that surrounded the Altai Mountains. It was a stunning sight, but they had to stay focused on their mission.

 

Then, out of nowhere, they encountered a bipedal traveler merchant. This guy was something else—he was using a giant robot to scale the cliffs and jump around like it was no big deal. It was an epic sight to behold! At first, the merchant tried to avoid the Wanderer convoy, but after some convincing, he decided to chat.

 

The merchant ended up selling them a map and some cool elastic textile that could fit anyone’s body, perfect for avoiding radiation He mentioned there was this tech hub down south, run by these "tech brahmins," a trade spot in the middle of the desert that was the source of these suits. The merchant also warned them that the usual trails were crawling with warlords and bandits shaking down travelers for passage money. He said the only way to avoid them was to take the robot-only routes.

 

The Wanderers stocked up on supplies, mostly food boxes filled with grains that could be turned into a soup-like dish. To make it more appetizing, they added some aroma and ingredients to spice things up. It was clear that the eastern wasteland wasn’t just an empty stretch of desert; it was a complex labyrinth, and the Wanderers were gearing up for the journey ahead.

baihu and alam now fierce duo. start they expension for open path and gather resource to defeat the flying dragon. in tip of other side of map.

first alam baihu victim was a The Syr Darya Scavengers, led by the ruthless Scrap Queen, scavenged the ruins of old Soviet cities, preying on anyone foolish enough to cross their path, especially those with cybernetic implants

. they rob and mutilated their victim for money. but they are disorginized. alam wanderers just act as refuge, for bait. and the queen herself confront them. her dark skin is illuminated from glint of desert light, she waring purple grab. and her left eyes are had eyepatch implant to able to see the person had implant or not. baihu then reveal herself from the rugged cloak and just slung to the scrap queen. followed by wanderers, and guruda legion. after baihu brutal swift move. she manage behead the scrap queen. then their entire territory is annexed.

Next stop south: The Vanara Vanguard. These guys were nimble mountain tribesmen, basically monkey warriors inspired by the Ramayana. Think guerrilla tactics and archery, The Vanara Vanguard's explosive arrows rained down, catching the Wanderers off guard. Alam deployed his drones, their camera eyes pinpointing the archers' hidden positions. The counter-attack was swift and brutal, but the Vanara were elusive, disappearing as quickly as they appeared.

. until alam is tired and just used rocket launcher. one lucky shot created avalance. and make vanara guard took heavy casualties. now they subdued for alam role. their leader offer his golden bow act of submission,

 

Finally, they pushed towards the center of the map and ran into the Cyber-Brahmins. These guys were tech-savvy engineers, survivors from India, using salvaged robots to rebuild. But here’s the kicker: Khaganate assassins sabotaged Alam’s tech. Major setback. He’d have to head back to Europe for more mechanics and tech support.

 

With the East under new management, the Wanderers geared up for a westward trek across the Central Asian steppes. It was a brutal slog, the sun a relentless hammer, but they pushed on.

Days later, their makeshift convoy – part armored truck, part mobile home – rolled into the Cyber-Brahmins' scrap city. Where there’d been nothing but sand before, now stood a buzzing hive of tech, a testament to the ingenuity of some surviving Indian engineers. Robots of all shapes and sizes bustled about, working and guarding, the whole place humming with repurposed tech.

Alam, figuring they weren’t hostile, hopped off his ride, strolling through the city with his crew close behind. Baihu, meanwhile, was off doing her own thing.

"Damn impressive," Alam muttered, watching a robot zoom past. "These guys really made this wasteland their own."

He wandered over to what looked like a bar. Behind the counter, a clunky but kinda charming robot with a vaguely human shape gave him a nod.

"Greetings, human," it said, voice all synthesized and polite. "How can I help you?"

Alam chuckled. "At least you sound like a proper robot. So, what's on tap?"

The robot’s head tilted slightly, a whirring sound replacing a laugh. "Plenty. What's your poison?"

Alam glanced back at his crew, who shook their heads. "Coffee for me," he told the robot.

"Coming right up." The robot got to work, its movements quick and precise. A few seconds later, a steaming cup was in Alam’s hand. "Enjoy."

 

thanks.. "alam take a sip" mhhm. you know. in otherside of the world.. if people see robot working usual work. they will mad. because a iron steal their job. hehe

The robot nods, its metal face looking surprisingly earnest. "Yeah, I get the irony. Used to be everyone worried we'd steal their jobs. Now we are the jobs." Its eyes flicker, like it's doing a quick system check.

Alam rubs his chin. "So… this scrap town… got a boss or somethin'?"

The robot bartender tilts its head. "Yeah, the Techno-Priest. Runs the show around here." It gives Alam the once-over.

"Can I meet this dude?" Alam ask

The robot nods again. "Sure, I can set that up. He's over in the Eastern quadrant right now." It gestures for Alam and his crew to follow, heading down a narrow alley between scrap metal towers.

Alam but the ask"...Hold up. You're just… leavin' your bar? You could just tell me how to get there."

The robot stops, a faint metallic smile appearing on its face. "Could do. But getting to the Techno-Priest ain't exactly a walk in the park. You'd hit a ton of security checkpoints. Faster if I tag along. Plus, keeps you from getting flagged and locked up."

Alam nod "Fair enough."

The robot nods and keeps leading them through the scrap city. Other robots give them the side-eye as they pass. They finally reach a big, reinforced building in the middle of the junkyard, surrounded by guards and drones.

"Techno-Priest's digs," the robot says, pointing at the building. "I'll let the guards know you're here."

Alam eyes darted on his surounding "Cool."

The robot walks over to the guards, beeping and clicking, explaining the situation. After a quick exchange, the heavy door slides open, revealing a surprisingly fancy interior with soft lighting.

"Go on in," the robot says, gesturing to the entrance. "He's expecting ya."

Alam and his crew step inside. The place is a weird mix of scrap and wires. Dim lights highlight the mechanical junk lining the walls. Definitely Techno-Priest HQ.

They walk down some twisty hallways and reach a huge, locked door at the end. Two big security robots with glowing red eyes block their path.

Alam shifted uncomfortably. "Damn… I miss humans."

The security robots scanned Alam and his crew, whirring and clicking. After a beat, they apparently decided these guys weren't worth the trouble, and the heavy door hissed open.

Inside was like some kind of high-tech temple, all circles and smooth metal. At the center stood the Techno-Priest, half-man, half-machine, blending right in. His voice, though robotic, was deep and serious.

"Greetings, travelers," he droned, his metal eyes sweeping over them. "I have been expecting you. State your purpose."

Alam stepped forward. "Yeah, I'm Alam, leader of the Wanderers. We're heading to Hong Kong to take down the Flying Dragon. We need to cut through your scrap city to bypass the Khaganate. So, we're asking for military access."

The Techno-Priest gave a slow nod, his metal face blank as a screen. The robot guards stood still, their red lights blinking.

"The Flying Dragon," he said, his voice echoing softly. "A formidable foe. And you seek passage through our territory?"

Alam nodded, his expression stoic. "Yep. I noticed this region is... more like a hub. So I don't plan to conquer the place. Because it's counterproductive to our trade... policy."

The Techno-Priest nodded again, the whirring of his internal mechanisms the only sound in the otherwise silent chamber. The security robots remained motionless, their optical sensors fixed on Alam.

"Interesting," he said, his metallic voice devoid of inflection. "You do not seek to conquer territory, but rather to utilize it as a passage for your own purposes. A pragmatic approach indeed."

"Yep," Alam repeated, meeting the Techno-Priest's gaze.

The Techno-Priest’s head tilted slightly, a barely perceptible movement that sent a shiver down Alam's spine. A faint red light pulsed within the Priest's visor as if some internal process was analyzing him. The silence stretched, each second amplifying the tension. The air grew heavy, the only sound the low hum of the surrounding machinery. After an agonizing half-minute, the red light flickered and died.

"Very well," the Techno-Priest finally spoke, the flat tone returning. "You have military access. You may pass through our territory to bypass the Khaganate."

"Thanks," Alam said. "Quick question. How many… actual people are here? I'm mostly seeing robots."

The Techno-Priest nodded, a light flickering through his metal body. "You are correct. Robots are the majority here. There are a few human survivors, but they are few."

"Right," Alam said. "So… how did a robot city even happen?"

The Techno-Priest's voice softened a bit.

"This city was founded by human survivors after the… troubles. The robots were built to help them. But over time, the humans dwindled, and the robots took over running things. Now, it’s pretty much all them."

"Got it," Alam said. "So, while we're here, can we, like, recruit some of your… population?"

The Techno-Priest considered this, his metal eyes blinking. After a pause, he said,

"You may recruit those who are willing. But I must warn you, they are accustomed to their way of life. They may not be eager to join your cause."

"No worries," Alam said. "Alright, guess that's it then. Farewell."

The Techno-Priest dipped his head in a robotic nod.

"Farewell, and good luck on your journey. May your path to Hong Kong be swift and safe."

just that, alam then manage to able to recruit extra technican and mekanic. even a group of hacker from scrap city. he just sell the golden bow from Vanara leader and other mechanical limb from the scrap queen in the city.

The golden bow from the Vanara leader and the scavenged cybernetics from the Scrap Queen were quickly converted into resources, fueling his war machine. He glanced at the map, his gaze settling on the eastern edge. The Flying Dragon. Then the Blood Khaganate. The Red Nation… that was a problem for another day. For now, he had a path forward.

Chapter 27 Flying dragon

 

road to flying dragon is open. but alam learn if blood khaganate is will not just let alam expand effortly. and they are still capable for attacking. so with their new resources. they build new base. a land between asia to europe.

 

at march 2401 at the new Wanderer base in the Caucasus

Nestled among the craggy peaks of the Caucasus mountains, the heavily fortified complex is surrounded by high walls and anti-aircraft turrets. Some sections are carved into the mountain itself, while others are still under construction.

 

The air buzzed with tension as Alam sat at a holographic table, He glared at the chaotic political map of Central Asia, noting how various mercenary factions were throwing punches at each other like it was a street brawl. Despite his shiny new alliance with the Garuda mercenaries, some smaller factions still resisted uniting.

"Damn those mercs,"Every time we engage in battle, I wonder if we’re truly fighting for a cause or just perpetuating a cycle of violence. Is there a way to achieve peace without bloodshed, or are we doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past?" Alam grumbled. "Alright, gentlemen and brave woman, let’s take care of the local mercs first. Any initiative to secure this region?"

 

Eleanor, a blonde woman, stepped forward. "Yes, sir! I have a message from the central agency." She opened a communique.

 

The message read: "The situation is evolving rapidly. The Red Nation has decided to deploy the first wave of their mercs troops to Central Asia and a massive naval fleet towards Europe within the next week. Yellow nation in europa and various North American nations have mobilized and are engaging their own troops. The possibility of global conflict is now very high. They advise us to be alert and ready in case of any events. The ball is in your court."

 

Alam nodded, a grin creeping across his face. "Great! They’ll probably clear the road first by taking drastic measures against the smaller factions. Zhang, Mei, and Li time to shine!"

Eleanor exited stage left while the three generals stayed behind, eager to share their pearls of wisdom. Zhang, dressed in traditional Chinese garb, stepped forward. "A grand strategy, if I may?" he suggested. Alam leaned back in his chair, gesturing for him to continue.

 "Go for it, General Zhang. We're all ears." Zhang nodded and began to outline his plan. "The situation in Central Asia is volatile. We should unite these groups under one banner. Pooling resources could effectively build a strong front against the Red Nation’s expansion. The real challenge will be convincing them to cooperate, but with your leadership, I believe it’s possible."

"Yes, let’s do that. Your methodical approach works well for the northern mercs; they’re bold but not too bright. Agents Li and Mei can handle the smaller factions in the central and southern regions," Alam agreed, feeling like a coach prepping for the championship game.

Zhang nodded, pleased. Mei, in a striking crimson dress, raised an eyebrow. "What if the Red Nation succeeds in the first phase in Central Asia? What’s next on their agenda?"

"Probably whole asia or Europe. Central Asia is just a stepping stone. But we won’t let that happen!" Alam declared,

 

Li, the tattooed muscle of the group, chimed in, "Sir, the Red Nation is still strong, and we have limited time. I have some thoughts on our next phase. Can I share my brilliant idea?"

"Go ahead, Li. We’re all ears," Alam said, glancing at the maps

 

Li revealed several advanced maps, showcasing strategic data for the entire region. "We need to strike hard and fast on multiple fronts, disrupting enemy supply lines and morale. By dividing our forces, we can achieve strategic surprise and force them to spread their firepower thin."

"Excellent! We have the home advantage. We’ve been operating here since the dawn of civilization. Now, my brave soldiers, are you ready?" Alam asked, channeling his inner motivational speaker.

"Yes, sir! Ready to get this party started!" Li declared.

"Absolutely! Ready to show them what we’ve got!" Zhang added.

"Yes, sir! We’ll protect the region no matter what!" Mei proclaimed.

 

"Good! Dismissed. Gott bless," Alam concluded, 

 

As the trio left, Alam sighed heavily. "Hm, hm... I should probably check in with Carmelita." He activated the intercom. "Hey, I’m using your best hands—Zhang, Mei, and Li. Hope I’m not burning through our aces too soon."

Carmelita’s voice crackled through. "Copy that, master. Sending them your way. Anything specific you want them to tackle?"

"Just unite the region first. Fill me in on their backgrounds, will you?" Alam requested, feeling like he was about to meet the Avengers.

"Mei is a cunning spy and negotiator—expert at infiltration and manipulation. She’s a master of subterfuge," she continued.

"And Li?" Alam asked, intrigued.

Carmelita paused. "Ah, Li… He’s an elite assassin and close-combat specialist. Known for his ruthless techniques, he’s a fighter through and through."

"Aha! Classic! Where did you find these talented officers?" Alam asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I recruited them myself. I have a knack for finding talent and maximizing potential. In fact, I’m working on recruiting more officers for the Wanderer. But that’s a tale for another time..." Carmelita teased.

"I see... Very well. I have things to do. See you later, dear," Alam said,

"Of course, sir. See you later," she replied, cutting the comm.

Alam took a deep breath, staring at the swirling maps. "Time to win this war."

 

In april 2401, Alam kicked off his recruitment drive, gathering allies and troops from a diverse mix of backgrounds—not just tribal warriors, but mercenaries from across Europe and Asia. When war rages, the soldiers of fortune come out to play.

 

One day, Alam sat in his office, eagerly awaiting updates from his trio.

 

"Hello, Three Kingdoms. Heh... Looks like I’m in for some good news," Alam said with a grin.

 

The trio reported in one by one.

 

Li started, "Our progress was great, sir. We managed to sneak into their military base and snag some crucial intel."

 

Zhang chimed in, "It was a solid success. We got detailed reports on enemy troop placements and equipment. This will be a huge help in our campaign against the Blood Khaganate."

 

Mei wrapped it up, "We even captured and rescued some wounded enemies."

 

"I hope you didn’t cause too much chaos. Heh," Alam replied, flipping through the intel. He was surprised by the wealth of information they had gathered—from troop placements to military tactics. Now, they just needed to wait for the spy report from the Flying Dragon before making their move.

 

"You guys did a great job... but I’m kinda tired of all this war. What do you suggest?" Alam asked.

 

Li was quick to respond, "Well, I think we should prep our troops and gear for the next phase of our campaign. While we’re at it, let’s send out more spies to gather intel. We need to make sure our troops are well-trained and ready before we head into enemy territory."

 

"So, no options besides bloodshed?" Alam pressed.

 

Li hesitated before answering, "Unfortunately, yes. We’re fighting for survival here; peace talks with the Blood Khaganate aren’t on the table. The fighting will keep going until one side wins. But if you’re really worn out by the war, I think there’s one option we can consider."

 

"Alright, let’s hit the Flying Dragon hard. Block any possible escape routes. We’ll start with a bang. Our new ally from the Garuda mercs has a surprise for us," Alam decided.

 

Li nodded in agreement. Zhang then added, "The Garuda mercs have indeed provided us with a new toy for this campaign—a stealth bomber called the X-80. this boy is charged by geo thermal energy instead expensive jet fuel"

 

"The X-80 is a cutting-edge stealth bomber with advanced camouflage. It has a long range, a powerful engine, and can easily evade radar detection. Plus, it packs heavy firepower to support our ground forces," Zhang continued.

 

" Flying Dragon's base is located at the edge of Hong Kong. It's a heavily fortified base with many layers of defense and is also protected by strong anti-aircraft weapons. Therefore, it's necessary for the X-80 to hit first and strike their powerful anti-aircraft weapons first. Afterward, our ground forces can strike their base without much resistance," Zhang explains.

 

"Okay... Wait, is their base surrounded by a residential area?" Alam asks.

 

Zhang pauses before answering, "According to our intelligence report, yes. The Flying Dragon's base is located inside a residential area close to ancient metropolis of Hong Kong. Therefore, we must exercise maximum caution to minimize collateral damage in the upcoming battle. Any further collateral damage in the residential area will not be tolerated."

 Alam shakes his head. "We need to transfer our troops first. Relocate them as refugees to infiltrate the residential area. Make them familiar with the location so we can avoid miscoordination during the main attack."

 

Zhang nods in agreement. "Yes, that's a great idea. The refugees can familiarize themselves with the location, and the residents can help guide our troops in the upcoming battle. Our troops can easily disguise as refugees without much suspicion. It will definitely minimize collateral damage to civilians."

 

Alam chuckles. "Yeah, good. Meanwhile, let's do some spying first... Mweheheh..."

 

After spinning his chair, Alam continued, "Alright, Zhang, you’re on supply chain duty. Mei and Li, make sure our troops' disguises stay under wraps from the Flying Dragon. Sabotage, assassination—whatever it takes to keep our movements secret."

 

Mei chimed in, "I’ll team up with Li to cover our troops. We’ll blend in with the civilians and make sure no one notices us. We’ll do our best to avoid collateral damage."

 

Alam nodded. "Exactly. To make our refugee ruse work, we can spread some fake news too. You guys are pros at this."

 

Li and Mei exchanged glances, agreeing that spreading fake news to mask their presence was a solid plan. "Right, we can spread rumors about our troops being refugees and create some fake stories to keep the Flying Dragon from catching on," Li added.

 

Alam declared, "Good. Operation Take Down Flying Dragon starts now!"

 

After WW3, when local governments collapsed, a street gang called the Flying Dragon rose to power, acting like warlords. They quickly took out local gangs and rogue generals, declaring themselves the rulers of Hong Kong. In this cyberpunk-like city, the police and military were just extensions of the Flying Dragon's power. Defeating them would mean capturing the entire region, but if Alam fell to them, the backlash would be severe. In this land, reputation is everything; if the locals see weakness in their leader, they’ll stop believing in him.

Alam monitored the mission's progress. It was a long game, requiring patience. Li, using his sick kung fu skills, had earned the respect of local residents by taking down neighborhood bully gangs, granting him access to strategic locations. Mei, through carefully cultivated charm, had seduced a high-ranking Flying Dragon member, extracting crucial intel before discarding him at sea. Meanwhile, Zhang had established a legitimate front—a local meat shop—to smuggle weapons and equipment. Alam prepared to observe their combined efforts.

He gathered his allies and established HQ near Hong Kong to prepare for the main assault. The trio's operations were nearing completion. They had conducted sabotage, assassinated key Flying Dragon personnel, and spread disinformation about their activities in China.

Hong Kong was a walled city of concrete skyscrapers. A dam-like structure between the buildings separated the inner city from the rising sea. The city was a cyberpunk metropolis of towering structures, neon lights, and aerial tramways, with Flying Dragon members present throughout.

With ground forces ready and supplies secured, the counter-offensive against the Flying Dragon was about to begin—potentially the final stage of the conflict.

Alam broadcasted over the radio to all members, "Alright, everyone... May Gott help us... There’s going to be a fire. The all-out attack will kick off after the air strike. Make sure everything’s ready."

 

His message reached all soldiers and mercenaries across Central Asia. With the warning of "there will be a fire" and the code for the "all-out attack," everyone knew the counter-offensive was about to begin.

 

Suddenly, the roar of aircraft engines filled the air. An air strike commenced, with the X-80 stealth bomber launching missiles at the Flying Dragon's strong points. As the missiles rained down, the ground forces moved into position, ready for the attack.

 

Alam goes outside to the balcony to see the direction of the Flying Dragon's base. He sees fire and explosions at the base. The missiles from the X-80 stealth bomber are already dropping down, causing great damage to the Flying Dragon's equipment and facilities.

 

The ground force has already reached their position and starts attack against the Flying Dragon's forces. It's chaos with fire, explosions, shooting, and shouting all around. Everything seems chaotic, but Alam can feel victory is near.

 

Alam rubs his forehead. "Well, what do you think?" he asks Eleanor, who is beside him. "Should I play music like Nero did when Rome was burning?"

 

Eleanor laughs at Alam's joke. But despite her laughter, she can sense deep worry on Alam's face. He seems quite stressed about the operation and yet tries to hide it. But she can tell Alam is struggling.

 

"Well, there's no need for that. Just sit back and relax. Everything seems to be going according to our plan. The trio's operation was successful, and the counter-offensive has finally begun. Everything should be going well," Eleanor reassures him.

 

Alam sighs. "I see... I can't relax. I was a field soldier. I can only relax when I join my men."

 

Eleanor smiles, comforting Alam as she touches his back. "I understand. But you don't have to do that. You are no longer a field soldier. You are now a general, and a general must do everything behind the scenes. Just trust your soldiers and your fellow generals to carry out your plan. Your job now is to just watch over the situation while doing some small management. You have made the plan and put everything into order. Everything should go according to your plan. Just relax."

Alam takes a seat and listens to the radio chatter. It's hectic, with everyone shouting and reporting situations, asking for orders. But Alam can hear that the situation is still under control and going according to plan. The trio's operation is smooth, with the sabotage and assassination missions almost concluded. The X-80 stealth bomber continues its bombing runs, destroying the Flying Dragon's equipment and facilities. The ground forces are advancing, closing in on the Flying Dragon's base as the air strike continues.

 

"Alright... I hope they surrender fast. If they have a brain, someone use a speaker to try to talk with their remnants!" Alam orders.

 

One of Alam's soldiers uses a speaker to communicate with the Flying Dragon's remnants. After a few minutes, another soldier reports.

 

"Sir, the Flying Dragon's leftovers are demanding to speak with you directly. They want to negotiate their surrender," the soldier says.

 

"Okay, sure. Connect me," Alam replies.

 

The soldier operates the radio to connect Alam with the Flying Dragon's remnants. After a moment, Alam hears the Flying Dragon's general speaking.

 

"General Alam, we want to negotiate. We have no intention to fight and cause unnecessary loss of life. We want to surrender and join you, in exchange for you sparing our lives and promising us a seat in your army. Are you willing to accept our terms?" the general asks.

 

"Good, but your rank is stripped. Rank is only for those who deserve it. Do you accept the terms?" Alam counters.

 

"We accept your terms. We don't mind losing our rank as long as you spare our lives. However, we must ask one more question," the general responds.

 

"Yeah, what?" Alam inquires.

 

"Will you forgive our wrongdoings in the past? Many of our members have committed crimes against your forces and horrible crimes against civilians throughout Asia. We want to repent for all our crimes," the general says.

 

"Don't worry, I was an ex-war criminal too. Let's repent together in the new world," Alam reassures.

 

"Thank you for your forgiveness, General Alam. Then we agree to join you. Our surrender is total. We will not do any more wrongdoing in your territory. You have a good heart, General," the general says before the radio goes quiet.

 

"Sir, the communication has been cut from the Flying Dragon's side. It seems like they have completely surrendered," the radio operator reports.

 

"Good, spare those who surrender. If some are stubborn, just burn the entire building," Alam orders.

Alam ordered his ground forces to accept surrenders, but some Flying Dragon members fought to the death, even resorting to self-destruction. Hours later, the final report arrived: resistance was fierce.they are now in split. some battle weary member is follow Flying Dragon's general to surrender. but some stuborn one trying avanging their friends and top member from previous assasination and sabotage, their resolve remaind hight. they fight till their ammo is empty. and using their blades. and wait on the every corner of the possible room. created a dangerous situation every room to room combat. tower to tower, until finally last pocket of stuborn flying dragon made last stand in half burning tower who used as base

Alam, restless, began donning his armor. "Sorry," he told Eleanor, "my hand's itching." He headed to the last holdout.

Arriving at the scene, he found only a handful of remaining fighters. "Give me a grenade launcher," he demanded. A soldier tossed him one, and Alam promptly unleashed a barrage, the explosions obliterating the last vestiges of resistance. He surveyed the scene of burning, tattoo-covered corpses. No strategy, no tactics—just raw firepower. "Hehe... Now that's how we finish it," he chuckled his sadistic tendecy is rising up again.

With the fighting over, Alam declared, "Alright, guys, we win. Take care of the wounded. Grab the loot. The base is ours." He tossed the launcher aside, laughing.

The base was quickly secured, with the wounded receiving treatment from medics aided by surprisingly advanced local medical technology—likely salvaged pre-war Chinese tech or imported elsewhere. Despite some casualties, the operation was a success.

On a distant beach, the crumbling, burning tower of the Flying Dragon cast long shadows across the water. A group of figures stood silhouetted against the flames, their bodies slick with seawater, the waves lapping at their feet. Among them, a woman with a dragon tattoo stared at the flames, tears streaming down her face, but then change into burning with a cold fury. She clutched a scorched piece of fabric, a remnant of the dragon banner "They thought they could erase us. They thought they could extinguish the dragon's fire. But they were wrong. The fire still burns. And it will consume them all."

Chapter 28 Operation Ninja

 

 

Fast forward to May 2401. Alam returned to base, the setting sun casting long, shadowy figures across the courtyard. He called a quick meeting with all his officers—from tribal leaders like Ali to Wanderer generals like Jax, and Asian generals like Zhang and Baihu, plus the newest general, an ex-gang leader, Xie Zhi-Ming, a man with a tattoo etched like a scar across his left face.

"Alright, folks," Alam declared, the flickering torchlight in the meeting room dancing on their faces, "we're building our reputation as the top mercs in this region. But we’re not done yet—the Blood Khaganate, or Red Nation, will make their move after this."

He cleared his throat. "If we attack the Blood Khaganate main base, it means cutting ties with the Red Nation. This will escalate things. Any suggestions?" He leaned back in his chair, the worn leather creaking under his weight, his gaze sweeping across the new faces in the base. Most were new, drawn to Alam and his growing influence, especially after the victory over the Flying Dragon.

The officers debated. Some were all for attacking the Blood Khaganate, while others warned it could be a big mistake. After a brief discussion, an officer in favor of the attack stood up.

 

"My name is Xie Zhi-Ming. Attacking the Blood Khaganate will sever our ties with the Red Nation and escalate the conflict, possibly drawing them into the fight. But we must consider that the Blood Khaganate is a major threat in this region and beyond, their dangerous doctrine to reclaim all once mongol empire territory was insane. and they will never stop" Xie Zhi-Ming stated.

 

Alam nodded. "I get that. But I want to test our mettle. Who's in favor of attacking the Blood Khaganate? Raise your hand!"

 

Many officers raised their hands, eager to challenge the Blood Khaganate and see how powerful they really were.

 

"Good. If we die, we’ll have no regrets..." Alam murmured.

 

Xie Zhi-Ming continued, "Since most officers voted for the attack, we should start planning how to execute it. The Blood Khaganate has plenty of units and assets, including tanks and a large number of troops in Central Asia. We need a solid plan to counter them."

 

Alam agreed. "Yes, we might be outnumbered, but they’re divided. We can use that to our advantage. From now on, I authorize raids into Blood Khaganate territory to scout their movements."

 

"Their mobile units are vulnerable," an officer pointed to a map highlighting supply routes. "Fast strikes, hit and run. We can cripple their logistics."

Alam traced the routes with his finger. "Prioritize anti-armor. We hit their supply depots hard and fast."

"Any other suggestions?" Alam asked.

 

Another officer stood up. "We should also send our special ops unit deep into Blood Khaganate territory to hit their vital supply, command, intelligence, and communication centers. Disrupting their coordination will make it easier for our main force to strike without much resistance."

 

Alam considered this. "More direct raids, huh? But do you realize that going deep into their territory means higher risk? If possible, we can use the same tactic we used before—sending some of our loyal troops as deserters. I heard they’re still recruiting."

 

The officer replied, "If we can use that tactic, sending our loyal troops as deserters to infiltrate deep into Blood Khaganate territory would be even better. We should also create fake news and orders to make it look like real commands from the Blood Khaganate. Our infiltrators must be carefully selected and loyal to the mercs. The mission is risky, but the potential gain justifies it."

 

Alam chuckled. "Yeah, yeah... I want experienced mercs for the sabotage tasks. But how do we know their loyalty?"

 

The officer answered, "We need to conduct background checks and psychological evaluations on all our soldiers to spot any potential bad apples. We must enforce strict discipline and harsh punishments for any traitorous acts. Once the infiltrators pass the checks, their loyalty should be tested with a minor but difficult task. If they pass without any signs of treason, then they can be considered trusted."

 

Alam laughed. "Hehe... In the end, we’re kinda forming a royal army, huh? Alright, let’s do it."

 

The officer smiled at Alam's comment. "You're right! We are indeed forming our own royal army. We must ensure each of our troops is loyal and well-disciplined. The strength of our army lies in our loyalty and discipline. We must crush any sign of treachery with an iron fist."

 

Alam nodded. "Okay, now... I’ll name this operation... Operation Ninja."

 

Everyone in the meeting laughed at the name.

 

"That's a fitting name for the operation. We must be like ninjas—quick, silent, striking the enemy without being detected. We’ll be like shadows, revealing ourselves only after completing our mission and retreating safely," the officer said.

 

Alam grinned. "Yeah, hehe... Alright, any questions?"

 

The officers shook their heads, ready to launch the operation and take down the Blood Khaganate, cutting off their supplies and resources. Xie Zhi-Ming wrapped up the meeting and dismissed everyone. Alam then gathered the main command, including his second-in-command and the leader of the special ops unit, to finalize preparations for the operation.

 

"Good. Operation Ninja starts now!" Alam announced, a slight smirk playing on his lips. He knew the name was a bit cheesy, but it had a certain… flair.

Later, after the meeting ended, a lone figure sat hunched over a small notebook. It was Zhang, meticulously jotting down notes.

The Perfect Destiny, Three Points of Fate:

1. This is a Land of Roaming Mercenaries, which means infiltration through assumed identities is more plausible than in a more regulated environment. Showed Refugee Flows and Khaganate Manpower Shortages
2. The Wanderers Are Already Established as Elite. This means they would have better training, resources, and discipline than typical mercenary bands, making more complex operations like infiltration and internal checks more feasible.
3. Not All Mercenaries Lack Loyalty. While some mercenaries are purely motivated by profit and have no strong allegiances, others are indeed loyal to specific countries, organizations, or leaders, often due to shared ideology, long-term contracts, or personal relationships.

Zhang tapped his pen against his chin, considering the points. He scribbled something in the corner of the page: “Probability of Success: Elevated (but not guaranteed. This isn’t a fortune cookie).”

Zhang then walked calmly to the training ground, where the elite spec ops qualification was underway. He noticed that the majority of participants were Wanderers, with only a smattering of tribal groups and other mercenaries. He noted in his book: "Wanderers: High morale, battle-ready. Other groups: Enthusiastic, but require… refinement."

The gamble was made, the die cast. The mercenary band, forged in the fires of global conflict, might leave you wondering how a mere soldier can wield so much power in this world. It’s simple: in this harsh reality, the man with the most weapons and access to trade is treated like a king. That’s why warlords and mafias often hold more sway than traditional rulers.

 

Think back to the British and Dutch during the colonial era. They started as merchants in India and Indonesia, but soon became mercenaries, making local populations and rulers dependent on them. Before long, they were more powerful than the Mughal Empire or Indonesian rulers, and we all know how that story goes.

 

A few days later, Alam made his way to the Carpathian base, the familiar sights and sounds welcoming him back. As he entered the command center, he spotted Carmelita engrossed in a VR film, her expression a mix of intrigue and skepticism.

 

“Hey, woman, do you like the VR film?” he called out, a playful grin on his face.

 

Carmelita looked up, removing her VR glasses. “Yes, it was quite... intriguing,” she replied, her tone revealing a hint of doubt. “It’s certainly a unique take on history and politics.” She paused, studying Alam’s face. “But I must say, I have some questions. That Zion character... he’s quite the piece of work, isn’t he?”

 

“Yeah, he is. Reminds me of Pharaoh, you know, the one who chased Moses,” Alam replied, leaning against the wall.

 

Carmelita nodded, her eyes narrowing as she considered the comparison. “Yes, I can see that. He seems like a modern-day pharaoh, ruling with an iron fist and using violence to enforce his will.” She tilted her head, looking thoughtful. “But I have to ask... do you admire him in some way?”

 

“Hmm. No. He’s driven by desire. People like that, despite their massive influence, seem weak to me,” Alam said, crossing his arms.

 

Carmelita smiled faintly, pleased by his response. “I agree. People who are driven solely by their desires and ambitions can be weak and vulnerable in other ways. They may have power and influence, but they often lack the wisdom to use it wisely.” She studied him for a moment, her gaze intent. “You seem to have a different perspective on things than the rest of us, don’t you?”

 

“Probably. I’ve seen a lot in the world. A dozen near-death experiences make you see things others won’t,” Alam replied, shrugging.

 

She chuckled, amused by his nonchalance. “Yes, I can imagine that. You must have seen things that would make many people's knees buckle.”

 

Carmelita paused, her gaze still on him. “Do you think your experiences have given you a deeper understanding of the world? A different kind of knowledge?”

 

“No... I just became more aware of my own weaknesses and limitations,” Alam admitted, his tone serious.

 

She nodded in understanding, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips. “Yes, self-awareness is important. Acknowledging one’s own weaknesses is a sign of strength.” She leaned back slightly, studying his face. “It's fascinating, really. You've seen so much, experienced things that most people only read about, and yet you remain humble and grounded.”

 

“Yeah, but you and my body will become dust in the next 50 years or in the next 1000 years,” Alam said, a hint of dark humor in his voice. “So... nyom nom.”

 

Carmelita couldn’t help but chuckle, amused by his bluntness. “Ah, the fragility of our existence. Yes, you are right. One day, we will all return to dust and become part of the earth again.” She shook her head slightly, a wry smile on her face. “But that’s what makes life so beautiful and worth living, don’t you think? The fact that it is fleeting and precious.”

 

“Really? Hmm. I think beauty is subjective. My older pieces of art seemed great when I bought or created them, but today, after further examination, they look like pieces of shit,” Alam replied, a smirk on his lips.

 

She nodded in agreement, a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. “Yes, you're right. Beauty can be subjective. What is beautiful to one person may not be to another.”

 

Carmelita smirked faintly, a curious look on her face. “But it's interesting that you used the word 'piece of art' to describe your own older creation. Do you think of yourself as an artist?”

 

“Yeah, everyone is kind of an artist,” Alam said, leaning back.

 

“Oh? You believe everyone is an artist?” she asked, tilting her head, intrigued.

 

“See, for example, performance art. People do things randomly, and people call it art. It’s all about the message and the cathartic emotions the artist conveys to others. Other people perceive their unique quirks as art, so I guess art is something people see as unique and can enjoy,” he explained.

 

Carmelita nodded thoughtfully, absorbing his words. “Ah, I see what you mean. Art has many forms and interpretations. It’s not always a painting or a sculpture. It can be a performance, a display of unique quirks, or anything that conveys a message and evokes an emotional response.”

 

She smiled faintly, her gaze still fixed on him. “It seems like you have a deeper understanding of art than most.”

 

“I'm wise,” Alam replied, a playful glint in his eye.

 

Carmelita chuckled slightly, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Wise, huh? And how did you become so wise, if I may ask? Is it because of your experiences or something else?”

 

“It’s because Gott molded me,” Alam said, his tone serious.

 

She nodded slowly, absorbing this new information. “I see. You believe that God has molded you into the person you are today.” There was a hint of curiosity and surprise in her voice, mixed with a touch of admiration for his faith.

 

“Yeah, many things I don’t ask are coming to me. Many things I want to avoid are coming to me,” he replied.

 

Carmelita nodded again, a look of understanding in her eyes. “Yes, the way of life can be unpredictable, and sometimes it seems like we don’t always get what we want or avoid what we don’t want. But you believe this is all part of God’s plan for you.”

 

She couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow as Alam laid his head on her lap. “Well, this is unexpected.”

 

She looked down at him for a moment, a small smile tugging at the edge of her lips. “Are you comfortable?”

 

“Yepi,” he replied, a satisfied grin on his face.

 

She huffed softly, amused by his casualness. “Hmph. You’re very comfortable with physical contact, aren’t you? Laying your head on a woman’s lap so casually...”

 

After a long, peaceful moment, she sighed and asked, “So, I heard you’re going to attack the Khaganate. How about if we use Ruan Mei’s experiment?”

 

Alam opened his eyes and looked at her, confusion etched on his face. “What... what do you mean?”

 

Carmelita kept rubbing his head. “You know... her skinwalker.”

 

Alam sat up abruptly, shaking his head. “No... it’s man-to-man combat, not some mutant sci-fi shit.”

 

Carmelita shot him a look, her eyes narrowing. “I see... so no dirty moves, huh?”

 

Alam tapped his lips thoughtfully. “I believe every trick I employ in battle someday will backfire. So the worst scenario is bio-weapons and mutation... it’s just too much for me.”

 

Carmelita nodded, her expression serious. “Alright. So we just use their missiles to soften up, right? No skinwalkers or beasts involved?”

 

“Exactly. Old school ways are enough to beat those neo-Nazis,” Alam confirmed, a determined look in his eyes.

 

In one of the Wanderer garages, a fleet of pickup trucks was armed to the teeth with rockets, artillery, and even some Gatling guns. Each truck had a drone mounted on top, giving the gunner and driver a wider view of the battlefield.

 

Meanwhile, Alam was assessing the situation. "Alright, the enemy is isolated in their territory. Any updates from the border raid? How are they responding?"

 

An officer with green hair piped up, "Yes, sir! They’ve started to react. They’re trying to reinforce their border, but their troops are as scattered as my socks after laundry day. We're still holding the initiative!"

 

"Good. We need a solid position to strike. Bring me the terrain map," Alam commanded, feeling like a general straight out of a cheesy war movie.

 

The officer handed over the map, and after a dramatic pause, they pinpointed an area near the mountains for the main assault.

 

"I'm no geologist, but I want to check the terrain. Get me a geologist!" Alam instructed.

 

Later,some wanderer found people who work as janitor in abandoned university. he once are the geologist profesor. after quick persuasion. he quickly agree to help alam,  then geologist finally did his job and assessed the area. "The ground is solid and stable—perfect for heavy armor and vehicles. It’s also diggable, but it’ll take some time."

 

"Great! I want a tunnel. When the main army attacks, some soldiers can sneak up from behind and surprise them," Alam ordered, rubbing his hands together like a cartoon villain.

 

Fast forward to March 21, 2400. After a lot of digging, Alam began his speech. "Alright, folks! Once we step into their territory, there’s no turning back. This is a declaration of war. We'll strike hard, then retreat to the mountains. When they chase us, we'll ambush them—repeat until they're defeated."

 

The troops nodded in agreement, fully understanding the plan.

 

"On my mark!" Alam shouted, firing a flare gun into the sky. first barrage of missile soften khagan strong point,

 

then wanderers surged into Blood Khaganate territory like a pack of hungry wolves, their heavy armor tearing through the border as if it were made of cardboard.

 

Immediately, his forces took control of the border while the Blood Khaganate troops struggled to hold their ground. Alam's men retreated to the mountains, luring the enemy into a trap.

 

As expected, the Blood Khaganate forces pursued, only to find themselves in a narrow mountain path filled with ambushes. Alam's soldiers opened fire, decimating the enemy ranks.

 

"It’s just a matter of time until their general arrives," Alam observed from the mountaintop, 

 

The enemy general, Inat, arrived with a small contingent, desperately calling for reinforcements. But the Blood Khaganate troops had suffered heavy losses and needed hours to regroup. Meanwhile, Alam's forces continued their relentless assault.

 

"We need to strike harder to wrap this up," Alam insisted. "What’s the status of their main base?"

An intel officer replied, "The main base is heavily fortified, with anti-air defenses and artillery. It’s a fortress, and breaching it will be as easy as getting a cat to take a bath."

"Yes, but they haven’t sent their reserves. We need to cut off their supplies. Any routes we can block?" Alam pressed.

The officer checked the reports. "There are secondary supply routes. Blocking them could cripple their main base."

"Perfect! Let’s keep bombarding them! And remember, keep moving—don’t let our guns get too cozy," Alam ordered,

 

The artillery and mortar units sprang into action, providing cover while the ground troops maneuvered to dodge counterattacks. They kept up a relentless bombardment on the Blood Khaganate's position.

 

The war raged on. The Wanderers, who had dug tunnels earlier, were now popping up behind the Khaganate's rear defenses. Their saboteurs easily took out pillboxes and bunkers, planting bombs on the unsuspecting tank column.

 

“How many casualties so far?” Alam asked after a long silence.

 

The officer hesitated, his eyes downcast. "Thirty percent, sir. Ground units. Several IFVs are down." He paused, then added quietly, "We lost avars squad."

 

“Who’s their general again?” Alam inquired.

 

“Inat. He’s a fierce and ruthless commander, responsible for defending the main base and border,” the officer replied.

 

“Sounds like a suicidal type,” Alam remarked.

 

“Yeah, sir. He’ll sacrifice troops to win. He’d rather lose hundreds than retreat,” the officer confirmed with a grin.

 

“Then let’s fight dirty. Focus artillery on incendiary rounds. Surround their base with smoke and fire,” Alam ordered.

 

The officers nodded and began targeting the area around the main base with incendiary shells. Smoke and flames engulfed the area, choking the enemy soldiers and obscuring their view.

 

With the enemy disoriented, Alam declared, “Good! Now they’re trapped like fish in a barrel. Gather all officers for another war council!”

 

The officers filled the room, eager to hear the latest strategy.

 

“So, what’s the plan? Keep the siege going until they’re dust, or take a unique approach?” Alam asked, leaning back in his chair.

 

Officer 1 chimed in, “Let’s keep the siege. Bombarding them is foolproof. They’ll crumble eventually.”

 

Officer 2 countered, “How about a surprise attack? They’re trapped, and we can dismantle their base from within!”

 

“What sneak attack do you propose?” Alam raised an eyebrow.

 

“Let’s use our elite soldiers to infiltrate through the tunnel. They can sneak in at night while we bombard them to lower morale,” Officer 2 suggested.

 

“Another tunnel? It’ll be tougher this time if we’re just popping up in their base,” Alam remarked.

 

“True, but this tunnel is still usable. It provides a stealthy route right into their main base, allowing us to strike from inside. The ground is solid, making it feasible to break through once we're in position,” the officer assured.

 

“Alright. Use precise map coordinates to enhance this operation,” Alam commanded.

 

The officer relayed the coordinates to the spec ops team, who began their infiltration as artillery continued to rain down on the enemy. The constant bombardment created a thick cloud of smoke and ash, choking the Blood Khaganate soldiers and obscuring their vision.

 

Alam saluted the spec ops volunteers, who returned the gesture, gratitude evident in their eyes. He joined them as they silently navigated the tunnel, avoiding enemy patrols until they reached the main base.

 

“Let’s pray for success,” Alam said, watching those brave young men head into the tunnel.

 

As they emerged at the heart of the base, they found it quiet, with soldiers preoccupied by the bombardment. Alam signaled, "Aim for their weapon armory."

 

The team stealthily advanced, reaching the armory undetected. They wreaked havoc, destroying weapons, ammunition, and repair equipment before making their escape.

 

"Enough damage. Time to go," Alam ordered.

 

They retraced their steps, exiting through the tunnel and regrouping with the main force.

 

"Good job, everyone. Any casualties?" Alam asked.

 

"All spec ops made it back alive. We've severely disrupted their supply lines and morale. They’re now low on weapons and repairs," the officer reported.

 

At the Blood Khaganate base, General Inat stood stoic, "The flames lick at the walls, but my will remains unyielding. You may breach these stones, but you cannot break my spirit, Alam."

 

"Alright. They don't have enough ammunition left to last," Alam said. "Let’s try to negotiate before the main assault."

 

The officer responded, "The main base is low on supplies, making it a good time to negotiate. They’re in a desperate situation."

 

"Yes. Do it. Contact them," Alam instructed.

 

After a tense negotiation, the officer reported back, "General Inat has agreed to surrender the main base in exchange for peace and his life. He will not be harmed but taken as a prisoner of war. The base and arsenal will be left intact."

 

"And the soldiers?" Alam asked.

"They’ll be allowed to leave safely," the officer confirmed.

"Alright, another war council!" Alam called, feeling like he was hosting a game show.

"They’re handing us their base, but they want to retreat. What do you suggest?" Alam asked.

The officers debated, deciding it would be better to keep Inat and his soldiers as hostages to leverage against other factions.

"Yes, let’s make Inat our bargaining chip," Alam agreed, grinning like a cat that caught the canary.

"Let’s rearrange the deal. Inat will be a prisoner, and his soldiers will be disbanded," Alam instructed.

The officer renegotiated, and General Inat ultimately accepted being taken hostage while allowing his soldiers to disband.

 

"Good. Gentlemen, we have secured victory!" Alam announced.

Alam celebrated the victory against the Blood Khaganate, capturing General Inat and disbanding his forces. Before his departure, Inat confronted Alam.

 

"Your victory is pyrrhic. Your grip on this land will be tenuous at best. You sow seeds of discontent with every blade you swing," Inat warned.

 

"Yeah, sure. See you later," Alam replied nonchalantly.

 

He then ordered his forces to prepare for a new offensive to sweep through Central Asia, uniting the region under their banner.

 

"Don't worry, guys. This will be more of a parade than a war. Only the stubborn will resist us," he said, earning smiles from the officers. They knew most enemy factions were already fearful, with many abandoning plans to fight after the news of the Blood Khaganate's defeat.