IDKjust
patreon
Chapter 357c
🕑 Added 2025-08-20 15:26:18 +0000 UTCChapter 357c
2-in-1-chapter
----------------
He would never naïvely assume that if it came to a fight, he could come out ahead.
So after a stretch of hesitation and struggle, the arms dealer ultimately chose not to try seizing the chip.
“Although I won’t be paying you,” he said, “you can still come with us. We’ll escort you to safety, and of course, you won’t need to pay any commission fee. How does that sound?”
“Fine. We’ll do it your way.”
The arms dealer nodded, his expression softening a little. His situation was far from ideal, but if he could gain Leo and his team’s protection without having to spend a single eddie, then he wasn’t entirely on the losing side.
He had done business with government forces, anti-government militants, and even Shining Corporation. As an arms dealer, he belonged to a neutral stance. In theory, none of the three sides had any reason to make things difficult for him. On the contrary, because they needed his weapons, they had always treated him as an honored guest.
That was how it had always been—until recently.
To his surprise, the anti-government faction had erupted into internal conflict. The second-in-command turned against the leader, and after a bloody struggle, the leader was dead, and the deputy had seized power.
The new boss contacted the arms dealer, demanding he sell weapons exclusively to the anti-government militants and cut off supply to both the government forces and Shining.
The arms dealer flatly refused. Everyone knew not to put all their eggs in one basket. If he stopped supplying the government forces and Shining, he would be shackling himself entirely to the militants. He wasn’t that stupid.
What he hadn’t expected was that his refusal would cause the anti-government faction to brand him as hostile.
Just last night, even after identifying himself clearly in the town, he had still been attacked by their men.
So if Leo’s team could deliver him safely into government-controlled territory, then perhaps he wasn’t losing too much.
With the plan agreed, the group set out together.
An hour later, they reached a patch of dense jungle. They disembarked and trekked on foot for about twenty minutes until they discovered a hidden camp deep inside.
Leo checked the distance marked on the chip. It matched one of the trucks parked in the camp.
That was the place.
“Get ready to move. Follow my orders.”
The arms dealer immediately objected. “Wait. Why should we take orders from you?”
“Because I’ve got command experience. Enough talk—get into position.”
Leo distributed assignments, sending coordinates and roles to everyone. The arms dealer’s three bodyguards glanced at him before moving. He clenched his teeth, realizing this was not the time to argue, and gave a reluctant nod.
When they had taken their positions and prepared to strike, Leo noticed several more trucks arriving along the dirt road outside the camp.
He raised his hand, signaling them to hold fire.
The trucks pulled into the camp and stopped. A swarm of militants poured out, dragging civilians down from the beds of the trucks.
“There are civilians. What do we do, Leo?”
“V, Lucy—sight the heavy gunners. Everyone else, mark your targets. Wait for my signal, then fire together.”
Among the civilians, there were Latinos and whites, men and women, even children and elderly. Most striking was a group of white men and women in uniform, clearly not locals from Bolivia.
The men in uniform instinctively tried to shield the women, but were beaten savagely by the militants for the effort.
All of the civilians, whether they resisted or not, were forced into a line under the muzzles of the militants, who formed up in a row behind them.
One militant raised a pistol and fired a shot into the sky.
BANG!
The civilians cried out in terror. Some crouched with their hands on their heads, others dropped flat to the ground, wailing and screaming.
Their reactions only angered the militants more. Rifle butts slammed down on skulls and shoulders as they shouted curses.
Finally, a few of the civilians, beaten past their limit, bolted and tried to flee. The moment one ran, others followed in a desperate rush.
But the militants didn’t look surprised or enraged. Their faces lit up like hunters flushing prey.
When the civilians had run a certain distance, the one who had fired into the air barked a command. The line of militants leveled their rifles at the fleeing people.
It hadn’t been an escape. It was a hunt. Like ducks on the water, they would be shot down as sport.
Just as they tightened fingers on triggers, two deafening cracks of sniper fire shattered the scene.
BANG! BANG!
The two heavy-gun operators slumped over their weapons, skulls bursting open as blood sprayed across the sandbags.
Then came the roar of automatic fire from the jungle, sweeping into the line of militants and cutting them down before they could react.
Chaos consumed the camp.
This was where the difference between militias and trained soldiers became obvious.
If they had been regulars, they would have sought cover, watched for muzzle flashes, judged firing positions from bullet impacts, and returned fire.
These militants, however, gripped their triggers in panic and sprayed bullets wildly in every direction. Not only did they miss their attackers, but they hit their own comrades.
Compared to the panicked rabble, Leo’s side remained composed.
Through his scope, Leo calmly picked off target after target. V and Lucy, set up at farther distances, had the range advantage with their sniper rifles. The arms dealer and his three bodyguards laid down crossfire, sealing every angle so that no militant could slip through.
Within minutes, the firefight was finished. The camp was cleared of anti-government fighters.
On Leo’s side, only one of the bodyguards had taken a grazing hit to the arm. A bandage and a pneumatic stim-injector were enough to keep him standing.
Leo ordered the others to retrace their path while he stepped out of the jungle and approached the group of civilians, who flinched like terrified birds.
“It’s over. You’re safe now.”
He had to repeat it several times before the civilians, still shaking from the blood and gore around them, began to calm. Even so, their eyes held more fear than trust when they looked at him.
Finally, a man in uniform, about forty with rough stubble on his jaw, stepped forward.
“Are you the reinforcements we called for?”
Leo shook his head. “No. Whose reinforcements were you expecting?”
“Bolivian government forces. The president promised they would protect us, but when the militias attacked, the soldiers assigned to us ran. I thought they went to fetch help.”
“I’m not with the government. I’m the director of Aurora Private Military Company. You can call me Leo.” His gaze lingered on the man’s uniform. “And you don’t look like ordinary civilians either.”
The middle-aged white man nodded and said, “We are from an international humanitarian relief organization, dedicated to providing medical care, food, water, and shelter to people affected by conflict and armed violence.”
So that was it—an international humanitarian relief organization.
Leo had thought their uniforms looked familiar.
Most who chose to serve in such organizations were truly admirable. They gave up high-paying, comfortable jobs back home and instead volunteered to work in conflict zones, doing what they could to help ordinary civilians. These were real humanitarians, unlike the so-called ones online who only knew how to posture behind a keyboard.
After offering his thanks, the middle-aged man made a request.
“Mr. Leo, please protect us and these civilians on the way to La Paz. We can pay you a fee.”
Leo shook his head.
“There’s no need for payment. I won’t take your money. I’ll do it for free.”
There were quite a few civilians, but two trucks were enough to carry all of them. His group was headed toward La Paz anyway. Bringing the civilians along only meant adding two more vehicles to the convoy.
Leo wasn’t doing this out of selfless compassion. Escorting the civilians to La Paz cost him nothing extra, so he didn’t mind bringing them along. But he had no intention of playing guardian angel—if they cooperated and stayed orderly, the journey would be smooth, yet if anyone tried to cause problems or slow down the convoy, he would deal with it without hesitation.
Without wasting time, he told the humanitarian workers to gather the civilians and start collecting supplies from the camp. The road from here to Bolivia’s capital would take days of nonstop driving, so bringing provisions was essential.
Leo himself went to check on the truck loaded with VR training equipment. He scanned it with his tactical goggles—no issues with the vehicle, no issues with the equipment. The militia who had seized it probably had no idea what the gear was for. They had only assumed the cargo must be valuable and hauled it back to their camp.
While everyone was busy, V, Lucy, and the arms dealer drove up the only narrow road into camp. Nobody said anything about it. Only the arms dealer tugged Leo aside.
“Brother, what’s all this?”
“Can’t you see?” Leo replied. “We’re gathering supplies. La Paz is still several days away by road. If we don’t bring what’s here, how are we supposed to make it there?”
“I see… but what about those people?”
Leo’s face broke into a smile, and he hooked an arm around the arms dealer’s neck. “Funny coincidence, isn’t it? They’re headed to La Paz too. We’ll just bring them along.”
“You’re really taking them with us?” the arms dealer’s expression soured. “How much did they pay you?”
Leo wagged his finger. “I’m not taking their money. I’m helping them for free.”
“Brother, you’re making a mistake. You’re bringing all these burdens without pay?”
Leo shook his head.
“Don’t talk about yourself that way.”
The arms dealer froze, then realized what Leo meant. He was also one of the “unpaid burdens.”
Still, his situation wasn’t exactly the same. That expensive set of VR training equipment he’d handed over—that was his protection fee, in its own way. But he didn’t bring it up, feeling it might irritate Leo if he did.
So instead, he changed his wording.
