Chapter 6: Farming for Credits
Hearing that they were no longer tethered to Dutch, Leo and the other two nearly burst into tears of joy.
That goddamn distance restriction had been like a scythe hanging over their necks, ready to harvest their souls at the slightest stumble. Now, the weight was gone.
The three of them collapsed onto the dirt, gasping for air, greedily inhaling the scent of "freedom" despite the humid, rot-heavy jungle air.
Dante, however, was far from exhausted. He looked wired—his eyes bright with predatory focus. He was busy examining the new notifications in his mind.
The Credits appeared as abstract flickers of light, shimmering like a mountain of ghost-coins. Though he couldn't physically touch them, he could sense the exact value of every single point.
As the Space had explained, these Credits were the only currency that mattered. They were the key to Genomes, Skills, and Attribute upgrades. They were his ticket to godhood.
He tried to access the shop menu on the fly, but a dry electronic chime cut him off:
[Notice: The Exchange Shop is unavailable within an Instance World.]
[Credits may only be used within the Evolution Space.]
"Tch. Buzzkill," Dante muttered.
A few minutes later, Major Dutch ghosted back up the ridge after his solo recon of the camp. His face was grim.
"The bastards just executed a hostage," Dutch whispered to the squad. "We're going in. Hard."
The moment he spoke, the grey HUD flickered in front of the candidates once more. Crimson text bled onto the screen:
[Primary Objective II]
Assist Dutch's Squad in the assault on the guerrilla camp!
[Reward Matrix]
Standard Guerrilla: 10 Credits
Machine Gun Nest: 50 Credits
Fuel Dump: 50 Credits
Helicopter: 100 Credits
Guerrilla Leader: 100 Credits
Soviet Military Advisor: 200 Credits
[Failure Penalty]: None.
Dante scanned the list, a slow grin spreading across his face. 'No penalty? And look at those payouts. This isn't a mission; it's a goddamn bonus round.'
Dutch began barking out assignments. "Mac, Blain! You two handle the heavy lifting. Take out the machine gun nests. Billy, Poncho! Clear the guards."
Dutch glanced at Dillon, then at the three civilians sprawled in the dirt. He gave a mocking snort. "Dillon, you take your... 'circus act' here and provide rear support. Try not to let them trip over their own feet."
Finally, he looked at Dante. "Big guy, you're with me. We're hitting the fuel dump. We move when the first charges blow."
"Got it, Major," Dante replied. But then he put on his most charming, "shameless" mercenary face. "Major, mind if I borrow some party favors? There's a lot of targets down there. Grenades would make this go a lot faster."
Dutch didn't hesitate. "No. I'm low as it is, and I need mine for the primary objective. Ask Poncho. He's carrying the heavy kit."
Dante turned to Poncho. The man was a walking armory, carrying his M16 plus a standalone M79 grenade launcher slung over his back.
Poncho was surprisingly easygoing. He reached into his satchel and handed over five 40mm grenades with a grin. "This enough to start a fire, kid?"
Dante took the "thumpers" and nodded. "More than enough. Much appreciated."
"Move out!" Dutch ordered.
The squad vanished into the brush, heading for their respective jump-off points. Dante started toward the fuel dump with Dutch, but the moment they hit the thick cover, he diverted.
He had no intention of being Dutch's sidekick. If he followed orders, the commandos would clear the high-value targets before he could even line up a shot.
In this world, he was poaching.
The Soviet Advisor, the Helicopter, and the Guerrilla Leader were the big tickets—400 Credits combined. That was equivalent to forty regular soldiers. The entire camp probably only had fifty men.
Dante knew the layout from the film. Those three targets were clustered near the central plaza.
Dante moved like a ghost—a skill honed in a hundred real-world war zones. The guerrillas were lazy, undisciplined "mud-feet." Dante slipped through their perimeter without snapping a single twig.
He reached an open-air warehouse overlooking the plaza and scaled the shelving, crouching high in the rafters.
The helicopter was idling in the center. He couldn't see the Soviet yet, but he knew the Guerrilla Leader was likely in the two-story shack at the heart of the camp.
According to the script, the moment the shooting started, the Leader would try to bolt out the back window while the Russian headed for the bird.
The bird would take time to spin up. The Leader was the flight risk.
Dante dropped from the rafters and ghosted toward the back of the two-story building. He snapped the necks of three sentries—quick, quiet, clinical—and pressed himself against the rear wall near the window. He checked his watch, counting down the seconds.
Five... four... three...
BOOM!
A massive explosion rocked the front of the camp. Dutch had detonated the pump house. The camp turned into a hornets' nest instantly. Screams, gunfire, and the roar of commandos filled the air.
Dante ignored the chaos. He kept his eyes on the window.
A few seconds later, the glass shattered. A portly man in an unbuttoned officer's tunic scrambled out, gasping in panic. The Guerrilla Leader.
The man's feet hit the mud, and he turned to run.
Dante didn't give him a step. He stepped out of the shadows, the barrel of his AR-15 already leveled.
Pop-pop-pop!
A short burst caught the man in the chest. As he stumbled back, Dante adjusted his aim and put the final round through the center of the man's forehead. Clean. Professional.
[Guerrilla Leader Eliminated.]
[Reward: 100 Credits.]
"Hundred down," Dante whispered.
He didn't stick around to loot the body. He sprinted toward the front of the building, rounding the corner just as the helicopter's rotors began to scream.
Through his optics, he saw the cabin was packed. In the center sat a man in a crisp Soviet uniform, barking orders at the pilot.
Dante didn't hesitate. He flipped the safety on his M203 under-barrel launcher and took aim.
THUMP.
The 40mm grenade arched through the air and slammed directly into the chopper's open door.
KABOOM!
The initial blast turned the interior into a blender of shrapnel. A second later, the fuel lines ignited, and the entire bird turned into a massive fireball. The explosion sent a shockwave through the plaza, leaving nothing but a blackened skeleton of twisted metal and charred husks.
[Soviet Military Advisor Eliminated.]
[Reward: 200 Credits!]
[Helicopter Destroyed.]
[Reward: 100 Credits!]
[5 Standard Guerrillas Eliminated.]
[Reward: 50 Credits!]
Dante watched the fire reflect in his eyes, a thin, satisfied smile on his face. 450 Credits in a single move.
"Payday."
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A/n: This is a bonus chapter for 5 star review...
If you're enjoying the story and want the extra chapters faster, leave a 5 star review. It really helps me and you'll get a bonus chapter immediately. (You've got 10/8 chances left.)