Halstein sat at his desk, surrounded by maps and reports detailing the mysterious island where Stiles, Dante, and SteelArm had crash-landed. The room was dimly lit, the flickering light of a single bulb illuminating his furrowed brow. He had been tirelessly coordinating with various agencies, trying to piece together a plan for their rescue, but every lead had gone cold.
He slammed his fist onto the table, frustration boiling over. "What the hell do we do now?" he asked, his voice rising in desperation. The walls felt like they were closing in on him, each minute that passed without news from the island adding to the weight on his shoulders.
One of his managers, a seasoned veteran with a calm demeanor, looked up from his clipboard. The manager had seen Halstein in many moods, but the current one was particularly grave. "Maybe we should consider hiring a mercenary," he suggested cautiously.
Halstein ran a hand through his hair, frustration boiling beneath the surface. "A mercenary?" he repeated, eyeing his manager skeptically. "You think just anyone can handle this situation? We're not talking about a simple retrieval. This island is teeming with dangers we know nothing about!"
The manager shifted uncomfortably, "I get that, but we can't just sit around and wait for luck to find them. We need someone experienced, someone who knows how to navigate hostile environments. It might be our best shot."
Halstein rubbed his temples, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. "All right, but we need to ensure they're reliable. We can't afford to lose anyone else. Do you have anyone in mind?"
"I have a few contacts who could be suitable," the manager said, flipping through his notes. "There's a group known for their expertise in extraction missions. They have a solid track record."
Halstein took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Alright, what's the name of this mercenary group?"
The manager took a moment to pull up their info, "Nightfall Brigade. That's what they're calling themselves."
"... Get in contact with them now." Halstein said.
The manager quickly typed away at his laptop, pulling up the information needed to make the call. "I'll set up the meeting right away," he said, eager to get moving on this critical task.
A day had passed since Halstein made contact with the Nightfall Brigade. The room was filled with a palpable tension as Halstein sat at his desk, anxiously tapping his fingers against the surface. He had spent the previous day discussing terms with the mercenary group, and now they were finally on the verge of finalizing the details.
On the other end of the line, the leader of the Nightfall Brigade spoke confidently. "So, Halstein, we're ready to move forward. We've assessed the risks of the island and understand the urgency of your request. The price for a full extraction team, including a scout and heavy support, will be one hundred million. We can have a team on the ground within 48 hours. We'll need a brief window to gather intel on the area, but after that, we'll initiate the extraction as quickly as possible."
"Alright, I'll transfer the initial deposit," Halstein said, relief flooding through him. "Let's make this happen. We need them back."
"Consider it done. We'll get your people out," the leader assured him before ending the call.
Forty-eight hours later, the Nightfall Brigade made landfall on the closest island to "The Last Path." The salty breeze whipped through the air as their small boat crested the waves, finally reaching the rocky shore. The leader, known as Nocturnal, stepped onto the beach, surveying the rugged terrain before him.
He gathered his team of twelve mercenaries, each one seasoned and battle-hardened, around a makeshift table where a map of the island lay spread out. The atmosphere was tense yet focused, the weight of their mission hanging heavily in the air.
"Listen up, everyone," Nocturnal began, his voice low but commanding. "This isn't just another job. We're here to extract three individuals who have crash-landed on an island rumored to be fraught with extremely high danger. We've got intel on hostile group living within the island and possibly other threats, so we need to stick to the plan."
He pointed at the map, tracing a route with his finger. "We'll move in two squads: Alpha will scout the perimeter and clear a safe path through the jungle, while Bravo will follow close behind, carrying supplies and setting up a temporary base if needed. Our primary objective is to locate the survivors and assess the situation before executing the extraction."
One of the mercenaries, a burly man with a scar running down his cheek, raised a brow. "What's the expected timeline for finding them?"
"Considering we have no exact location for the plane crash, or any other details. Best-case scenario, we locate them within a few days. Worst case, we may have to dig deeper into the island," Nocturnal replied. "We'll communicate regularly, and if things get too dicey, we'll pull back and regroup. Our safety is paramount."
The team nodded, Nocturnal took a deep breath, locking eyes with each of his mercenaries. "Remember, we're not just here for the goddamn pay; we're here to save lives. Keep your wits about you, and let's get this shit done."
All thirteen members of the Nightfall Brigade boarded the boats, each vessel reinforced with lightning-resistant materials, a precaution against the stormy atmosphere surrounding The Last Path. With their gear stowed and determination etched on their faces, they set out into the turbulent waters.
After an hour of navigating through the choppy sea, the jagged silhouette of the island emerged on the horizon. The mercenaries felt a mixture of anticipation and tension as they neared their destination. Once they made landfall, the team quickly jumped off the boats, boots sinking into the wet sand as they gathered on the shore.
Nocturnal took charge, his commanding presence instantly drawing everyone's attention. "All right, listen up! We've got a mission to complete, and we need to stay sharp. This island has proven dangerous, so watch each other's backs."
He pointed towards the dense jungle that loomed ahead, its twisted trees and thick underbrush casting ominous shadows. "Alpha team, you'll scout ahead and establish a perimeter. Stay quiet and alert. Bravo team, set up a temporary base here at the shore and prepare supplies. We need to be ready for anything."
With that, Alpha team plunged into the jungle, moving stealthily through the foliage, while Bravo team began unloading gear and securing their position on the beach. The air crackled with tension as they ventured deeper into the island, the sounds of the storm echoing in the distance.
As Team Alpha advanced deeper into the jungle, they moved cautiously, their senses heightened by the eerie atmosphere of the island. The air felt charged, and the sound of the storm roared in the distance. Suddenly, they came upon a clearing, and there it stood—a massive bear, its fur alive with crackling electricity, water droplets shimmering on its body like jewels.
Brando, the leader of Alpha team, signaled for everyone to halt. "Stay low and quiet," he instructed, his voice a mere whisper. "We don't want to provoke it. Prepare your weapons."
The team quickly took up strategic positions behind the dense foliage, their crosshairs aimed at the electrified beast. The tension in the air was palpable as they each loaded magic-condensed bullets into their rifles, the energy swirling around the rounds like a storm of its own.
"On my mark," Brando whispered, his eyes never leaving the bear. The creature shifted, sensing something amiss but not yet aware of its hunters.
"Now!" Brando commanded, and the team unleashed a volley of bullets, each round crackling with energy as it shot toward the bear. The impact resonated through the clearing, the bear roaring in fury as it staggered back, but the magic-infused bullets seemed to have little effect on its electrified hide.
Brando's eyes narrowed. "Switch to the silencers!" he shouted, and the team quickly changed their ammunition. With focused determination, they took aim again, their hearts racing.
"Fire!" The four silencer bullets flew through the air in unison, striking the bear with precision. The creature let out a final roar before collapsing to the ground, the electricity flickering out like dying embers.
Brando grabbed his walkie-talkie, his expression serious as he connected with Nocturnal. "Nocturnal, this is Brando. We just encountered a bear on our path. The magic-condensed bullets barely fazed it, so I'm not sure if it has a high magical resistance or if we're dealing with a unique case here. Just wanted to keep you in the loop. Brando, signing off."
He switched off the device, tucking it away as he took a moment to assess his team. The atmosphere had shifted; the jungle felt alive with unseen dangers.
"Alright, everyone, stay sharp," he said, leading the team forward with heightened caution. "Let's watch our steps even more closely now. We can't afford any surprises."
Nocturnal gathered his team, Team Bravo, just off the beach, ensuring they were equipped for the jungle ahead. He double-checked their supplies, distributing water, rations, and magical artifacts designed to protect against elemental attacks.
Nocturnal glanced back at his team, his expression serious. "Alright, listen up! We're following the path that Team Alpha has already scouted. We'll stick to their trail until we catch up with them. They've reported some resistance already, and we need to be prepared for anything."
He pointed ahead, where the underbrush was slightly disturbed, indicating Team Alpha's passage. "Stay sharp and keep your weapons ready. If they encountered a bear with magical resistance, we need to assume there are more of them waiting for us."
As they moved forward, Nocturnal led the way, careful to maintain their formation. The sounds of the jungle surrounded them—birds screeching, insects buzzing, and the rustle of leaves underfoot. He could feel the tension in the air, a reminder that they were intruding on a territory that was both beautiful and perilous.