"Oh..." Dominik sighed deeply. He looked around the poverty-stricken village again.
The history of this region was a cycle of failed interventions and exploitation. Two hundred years of modern history, and yet, in many ways, the Golden Triangle was still living in the shadow of the 20th century.
But on second thought, Dominik realized the disconnect. The technology he saw Simon using—the advanced exoskeleton on the "Ghost" card, the holographic system interface—implied a world far more advanced than this rotting village suggested.
In Dominik's original world, the gap between the developed world and the developing world was large, but not this large.
This world seemed to have extreme technological stratification.
With this thought in mind, Dominik asked, "Hey, Simon. You mentioned 'interstellar' earlier when we were talking about Somalia. And your gear... that exoskeleton suit in your profile. Is the outside world really that advanced? Are we talking space colonies?"
"Hmm..." Simon shrugged, adjusting the strap of his SCAR-L. "I'm just a soldier, Dominik. I pull triggers. But yes, the United Nations Space Command has orbital stations, lunar bases... they say there are colonies on Mars now. But down here? In the 'zones'? We're still fighting over dirt and opium with cold war relics."
"I see..." Dominik was a little disappointed but also intrigued.
It confirmed his suspicion: this was a future Earth, perhaps 50 or 100 years from his time, where humanity had reached the stars, but left half the population behind in the mud.
The Golden Triangle wasn't just a drug den; it was a discarded timeline.
"Alright, enough philosophy," Simon said, cutting off Dominik's train of thought. "Get your gun ready and follow me. We need to clear the main compound."
At this moment, the two of them had arrived at The Syndicate's headquarters. Rather than a military camp, it was a repurposed colonial-era villa surrounded by a high wall, looking out of place among the bamboo shacks.
Although Simon had done his recon and was confident the 32 fighters were neutralized or fled, it was still better to be cautious.
"Okay," Dominik replied, taking the Type-56 off his shoulder and gripping it with sweaty palms.
But just as they were about to approach the main teakwood gate, Simon glanced back at Dominik and immediately hissed, "Muzzle discipline! Watch where you point that thing."
"Oh, sorry." Dominik realized his muzzle was sweeping across Simon's lower back. He immediately pointed it at the ground, his face flushing.
Simon, holding his SCAR-L at the high ready, stacked up against the wall next to the gate. Dominik imitated him, pressing his back against the peeling whitewash.
Seeing Dominik in position, Simon sliced the pie at the entrance. After confirming the courtyard was clear, he signaled and moved in.
Dominik followed, sweeping his gun left and right. The courtyard was empty, save for a few overturned plastic chairs and a smoldering fire pit. There was one large main bungalow and several military-style tents set up on the lawn.
Simon moved directly towards the bungalow. Dominik, suppressing his fear, checked the tents. He found only messy bedrolls, empty beer cans, and piles of trash.
"Hey! Look what I found!"
Just as Dominik was holding his nose, disgusted by the smell of stale alcohol and sweat in the last tent, Simon walked out of the bungalow, carrying two heavy black duffel bags. He shouted excitedly at Dominik.
"Oh?" Dominik's interest was piqued. He abandoned his search of the tents.
He walked over to Simon on the veranda. "What are these?"
"Look." Simon didn't waste words. He zipped open the first bag.
"Wow..." Dominik's eyes widened.
Inside the duffel bag were stacks of cash. Thick bundles of colorful banknotes.
In his previous life, Dominik was a student living on a budget. He had never seen this much physical currency in one place.
"This..." Dominik pointed at the bag with a trembling finger. "This... is this...?"
"Heh heh." Simon chuckled lightly under his mask. "There's at least 300,000 Euros worth of currency here. Mostly US Dollars and Chinese Yuan, the preferred currencies of the black market. Isn't your family worried about tuition? Well, here's a scholarship."
"Cash?"
Dominik reached in and grabbed a bundle. It was a stack of 100-dollar bills, the blue anti-counterfeit strip glinting in the moonlight.
"It's dirty money, blood money," Simon said calmly, zipping the bag back up. "But in the Safe Zones, cash is king. This will buy us passage, bribes, equipment. A decent rifle costs maybe 500 bucks on the black market. We can buy an arsenal with this."
"I see..." Dominik nodded, feeling the weight of the bag. It was heavy.
He didn't ask any more questions about the morality of it. Survival came first. He pointed to the other duffel bag. "What about this one?"
"This one? Haha, this is where the real candy is!" Simon said, his voice dropping an octave in excitement.
"Oh? Really?" Dominik leaned in. If this made the stoic Simon happy, it had to be impressive.
"Of course. It's force multipliers. Look!"
Simon unzipped the second bag.
Dominik squatted down, flipping through the contents. Inside, he saw three olive-drab tubes, several bulky night-vision optics, an under-barrel grenade launcher, and a collection of grenades.
Dominik picked up one of the tubes. It was light, fiberglass. He looked at Simon. "This thing... it's a rocket launcher, isn't it?"
"Yes." Simon grinned beneath his mask. "Inside are three M72 LAW light anti-tank weapons. Single-use, disposable. Perfect for hard targets. Plus four sets of PVS-14 night vision monoculars, one M203 grenade launcher for my SCAR, ten frag grenades, and five white phosphorus smoke grenades."
"Whoa!" Dominik rummaged through the bag, his eyes gleaming.
Even as a history student who preferred books to violence, the primal appeal of heavy firepower was undeniable. In a world full of zombies and warlords, these weren't just weapons; they were survival.
Simon took the M72 LAW from Dominik's hand and carefully placed it back in the bag. He stood up, slinging his rifle.
"Let's go. Laura is waiting in Mandalay."
"Okay." Dominik nodded firmly. He zipped up the bag of cash and heaved it onto his shoulder. "Let's go, brother."