Chapter 3: I Don't Carry Dead Weight
"BLEURGH!"
For most of the civilians, this was their first time seeing a human being die—let alone watching one turn into a human firework.
Faces turned translucent shades of green as they doubled over, retching. But even as they vomited, they didn't dare stop. They ran and puked simultaneously, a pathetic, nauseating circus of desperate people clinging to life.
Dante, however, didn't flinch. A mercenary didn't survive the dark corners of the world by being squeamish. Instead, he used the steady jog to mentally catalog everything he knew about the Predator timeline.
The setup: Dutch's squad was sent into the South American jungle on a phony rescue mission for "cabinet members."
The twist: After wiping out a local guerrilla camp, they become the prey in a trophy hunt for an extraterrestrial warrior.
Dante remembered the details vividly. The creature had thermal vision, high-tech plasma weaponry, and a cloaking device that made it a ghost in the trees. It picked off Dutch's team one by one until only the Major remained. Dutch only won by reverting to primitive traps and cold steel.
Points of exploitation:
1. The thermal vision can't see through mud.
2. The cloaking device glitches in water.
3. The Predator doesn't hunt "unarmed" or "weak" prey—it wants trophies, not slaughter.
4. At the end, Dutch and the creature beat each other into a pulp.
Dante's eyes narrowed as a plan formed. 'If the plot stays on track, the Predator will be trapped and vulnerable at the very end. If I'm lurking nearby when Dutch finishes the job... I can swoop in and take the kill.'
To make that happen, he had to ensure the "plot" didn't deviate. He needed Dutch to survive long enough to do the heavy lifting.
Suddenly, Dutch raised a closed fist. The squad went silent and halted.
Dante followed Dutch's gaze. One of the commandos—a scout named Billy—had spotted something. A downed helicopter hanging from the canopy. The "rescue" target.
As the squad moved to recon the wreckage for clues, Dante took a moment to check his gear. Dutch had handed him an AR-15—the civilian designation for what would become the iconic M16. This one was a beast, fitted with an M203 grenade launcher under the barrel.
'Since Dutch gave this to me, is it mine to keep?' Dante wondered.
As if sensing his greed, a cold, electronic voice echoed in his mind:
[Notice: The AR-15 Assault Rifle is a scenario-provided item. It is restricted to this world and cannot be taken out upon mission completion.]
"Hah! So I get a personal assistant now?" Dante muttered, impressed. "So, only 'dropped' loot is permanent. Everything else is just a rental."
He tried to push the "assistant" for more info, but the replies were a repetitive loop of:
[Insufficient authority to access query.]
[Trigger conditions not met.]
After four failed attempts, Dante's patience snapped. "Yeah, yeah. Go fuck yourself then."
While he was busy arguing with the voice in his head, the four remaining civilians had huddled together, whispering urgently. Eventually, they approached Dante as a group, looking like a pack of nervous puppies.
Dante's eyes flickered toward them, cold and dismissive. "Whatever it is, spit it out. I'm busy."
He knew the type. In a war zone, "teammates" were usually just liabilities that got you shot in the back. He had no intention of making friends.
His hostility caught them off guard. The blonde guy stepped forward with a forced, salesman-like smile.
"Hey man... we're all in this together, right? I think it's time we properly introduced ourselves. Safety in numbers."
He extended a hand. "I'm Leo. I worked in high-end finance back home. I'm an outdoorsman—hiking, rock climbing, that sort of thing. I can handle scouting or recon if needed."
The others followed suit:
Linda, twenty-five, an accountant. She was the one who knew the movie plot.
Monica, twenty-three, claimed to be a "social media influencer," but her designer clothes and surgical "enhancements" screamed kept woman.
Jerry, twenty-eight, an IT guy. Average face, average build, zero presence. Essentially a background extra.
They all stared at Dante, waiting for a shred of camaraderie.
"Dante," he said flatly. Then he went back to checking his rifle.
The silence stretched on, becoming agonizingly awkward. Finally, Dante looked up, annoyed. "Anything else?"
Leo cleared his throat, maintaining his plastic smile. "Look, Dante... we've already lost three people. The casualty rate is insane. We need to stick together to survive. Out of all of us, you're clearly the most capable. You've got the build, and you've got the gun."
Leo leaned in, lowering his voice. "We talked it over. We want you to be the Leader. You call the shots, and we follow. We just need you to get us through this."
Monica pouted, batting her eyelashes at him. "Exactly! You look so manly, Dante. You'll protect a poor girl like me, won't you?"
The others piled on the flattery, calling him a "natural leader" and a "hero." A normal man would have let his ego swell. Dante just felt like he was being sold a used car.
"Not interested," Dante said. "Play your little games without me."
'Leader?' He almost laughed. They didn't want a leader; they wanted a free bodyguard to die for them.
"Uh..." Leo's smile faltered. The rejection was too blunt, too fast. They wanted to curse him out for being an arrogant prick, but fear kept them tethered. They knew Dante was their best chance at seeing tomorrow.
They stayed rooted to the spot, hoping he'd change his mind. Dante's patience hit zero. He turned to walk back toward Dutch, but stopped after two steps and looked back at Monica with a shark-like grin.
"Monica, right?"
The woman perked up, thinking her charms had worked.
"You're a decent-looking piece of work," Dante drawled, his eyes scanning her up and down with predatory intent. "If the opportunity arises, you and I could get... up close and personal. Do that, and I might consider keeping you alive."
He shifted his gaze to the men, his lip curling in disgust. "As for the rest of you? Don't bother me again. I don't have any 'interest' in you. Sexual or otherwise."
"What—?!" Monica's face went scarlet. She was used to being pursued, but never with such raw, transactional vulgarity.
Leo's face turned a sickly shade of green. He clearly had designs on Monica himself. He stepped forward, trying to salvage his pride. "If you're going to be a lone wolf, fine! We don't need your help anyway. Good luck out there!"
He tried to look defiant, but he failed to notice Monica's subtle, almost imperceptible nod toward Dante.
Dante saw it perfectly. He let out a dark, mocking laugh and disappeared into the treeline.
"Hah. This is going to be fun."
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A/n: We finally know the other candidates. What do you think of them so far? How many do you think will actually survive, and which ones?
I'm really curious to hear your thoughts and theories in the comments.
And if you want those extra chapters to drop faster…
For every 5-star review, I'll release one bonus chapter immediately. (You've got 10/10 chances left.)