Chapter 2: The First Culls
The warning flickered out.
Everyone scrambled to the edge of the open bay, peering out into the humid air. The chopper was hovering a good twenty-five feet above the jungle floor. Eight rappelling ropes dangled from the hatch, glowing with a faint, ghostly light—a silent, glowing suggestion that it was time to move.
A bloated middle-aged woman shrieked, clutching the seat. "You... you expect us to go down that? Why can't the pilot just land the damn thing?"
The blonde "pretty boy" from earlier let out a hollow laugh. "Look at the canopy, lady. The trees are too thick. There's no landing zone for a bird this size. We either slide down or stay up."
The woman recoiled, shaking her head violently. "No way! I'm old, I've got vertigo—I can't do this! I'm staying on the plane. They can't force me!"
"Auntie, did you even read the prompt?" The girl in the white collar snapped, her voice trembling. "It said anyone who doesn't reach Major Dutch will be Obliterated. You want to die?"
"Oh, please! 'Obliterated'?" A portly guy in glasses scoffed from the back. "Falling from this height is what'll actually kill me. I'm not budging. If you lot want to play commando, be my guest."
"You two... seriously?" The office girl looked between the two holdouts, her face a mask of disbelief.
Two other young salarymen stood nearby, hesitating. Their bodies were soft, the products of too many hours behind a desk and not enough time in a gym. They stared at the ropes like they were nooses.
Dante watched the "civvies" fall apart before the clock even started. A thin, cold smile touched his lips. 'Choking before the first step. Pathetic.'
He didn't waste a second. He wasn't here to be a counselor. Dante stepped past the trembling group toward the hatch.
The crowd went silent. They hadn't expected the quiet, brooding guy to be the first guinea pig. Every eye followed his movements, waiting for him to fail.
To their shock, Dante moved with the practiced ease of a veteran. He secured the rope, checked his grip, and looked back at the group. He gave them one final, mocking glance—a look that clearly said 'Enjoy the show, losers'—and dropped out of the bay with a single hand on the line.
"He... he just jumped?"
The survivors scrambled to the windows, watching as Dante slid down the rope with casual grace, hitting the jungle floor as if he'd been doing it his whole life.
Across the clearing, the other helicopter was already offloading its crew. They were a sight to behold: wall-to-wall muscle, geared to the teeth. One man stood out—a mountain of a man radiating a faint, systematic glow.
The primary objective. Major Dutch.
"My god," the office girl gasped, covering her mouth. "It really is him. A young Arnold Schwarzenegger... this is actually happening."
The blonde guy's face paled. "Listen up! This might be insane, but that mission is real. Whatever you believe, we need to get off this bird. Now."
He turned to the "femme fatale" woman nearby, softening his voice. "Hey, gorgeous. Need a hand? I'm no commando, but I know how these rigs work."
"God, yes," she purred, her earlier panic replaced by a practiced damsel-in-distress routine. "I was wondering how I'd get my legs around this thing. Thank you, handsome."
The blonde guy smiled, ignoring the glares from the others as he strapped her in. Once she was set, he gave her a reassuring nod. "Don't sweat it. The rope handles most of the weight. Just slide."
She wasn't as fragile as she looked. With a sharp nod, she vanished out the door.
The blonde guy looked toward the office girl, but she'd already figured it out. She tightened her harness, squeezed her eyes shut, and tipped herself over the edge. Seeing the "talent" was gone, the blonde guy lost his helpful streak.
"Your turn," he snapped at the two salarymen. "Move it or rot." He didn't wait for an answer before sliding down himself.
The two office drones shared a terrified look, fumbled with their gear for a few agonizing minutes, and finally mustered the courage to drop.
Inside the cabin, only the fat woman and the glasses-wearing nerd remained, huddled in the shadows of the hold.
***
Down on the ground, Dutch was waiting. His face was a mask of cold stone.
"Too slow!" Dutch barked as the stragglers reached the mud. "I don't know why the General saddled my team with you lot. Aside from the big guy here," he jerked a thumb at Dante, "you look like a bunch of soft-bellied tourists."
He stepped into Dante's space, eye-to-eye. "Try to keep up, or the jungle eats you. I'm not stopping to check maps for laggards."
The civilians didn't even seem offended. They were too busy reeling from the fact that 'Arnold Schwarzenegger' was standing right there, flesh and blood, speaking directly to them. The reality of their situation finally began to sink in.
Dutch pulled a sleek assault rifle from his shoulder and tossed it to Dante. Dante caught it out of the air, the cold weight of the metal familiar and comforting.
"Move out!" Dutch shouted. "We've wasted enough time. Double time, now!"
"Wait!" the office girl cried out, looking back at the hovering birds. "We have two more! We can't just leave them!"
Dutch stopped, his brow furrowing with irritation. "What the hell are you talking about? Including Dillon, there are seven of you CIA spooks. That's the manifest. Nobody else is coming."
As he spoke, the two transport choppers began to banked away, gaining altitude.
From the lead chopper, two blood-curdling screams echoed over the roar of the rotors, followed by two muffled, wet thuds.
Simultaneously, a cold, mechanical voice rang out in everyone's mind:
[Candidates 952705 and 952708 have failed to meet objective conditions. Pre-emptive OBLITERATION complete.]
The civilians froze. The horror hit them like a physical blow. Two people who had been breathing and complaining just minutes ago were just... gone. As if they'd never mattered.
"Are you deaf?" Dutch roared from the treeline. "Keep up!"
The group realized with a jolt that Dutch's squad and Dante were already fifty yards deep into the brush.
"The hundred-meter rule!" someone screamed.
Cold sweat broke out across the group as they bolted after the soldiers. One of the salarymen, a guy who clearly hadn't run a mile since high school, was already flagging. His face was purple, his breath coming in ragged, wheezing gasps. The distance between him and the group began to widen.
"Wait... cough... wait for me!" he wheezed, his legs turning to jelly.
But nobody was waiting.
Seeing no one slowing down, panic took hold. He pushed harder, his foot catching on a thick jungle vine. He went down hard, a sickening pop echoing from his ankle.
"I'm hurt! My leg! Help me!"
The office girl looked back, her face contorting with pity. "Major! Stop! Someone's down!"
Dutch didn't even flinch. He kept his pace, his eyes locked on the trail ahead. The rest of the "teammates" ignored her too, their eyes wide with the singular focus of survival.
The girl bit her lip, looked at the widening gap, and whispered a silent apology before turning and running even faster.
The salaryman watched them leave. Despair turned into a toxic, curdling rage.
"You're all the same!" he screamed, his voice cracking. "We came here together! You're just going to leave me? You selfish bastards! I hope you all rot in hell! I hope you—"
His tirade was cut short. A grey HUD flickered into existence before his eyes. A crimson counter began to tick up with blinding speed.
...98... 99... 100.
"Gah—!"
As the number hit 100, his body stiffened. His skin turned a violent, bruised purple. Veins bulged in his neck and forehead like they were about to burst.
"No!! Please—!"
The scream was cut short by a sound like a wet leather bag being kicked.
His body didn't just die; it gave way. Like an over-inflated balloon, he detonated from the inside out. Blood and viscera sprayed across the emerald leaves like macabre confetti, staining the jungle floor a deep, loyalist red.
The remaining candidates saw the explosion out of the corners of their eyes. A primal, icy dread settled in their marrow.
[Candidate 952704: Mission Failed.]
[Obliteration Confirmed.]
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A/n: Yes, our first destination is the Predator universe. For those who haven't seen the movies or just need a refresher on what this beast looks like, here you go:
[Image: Predator]
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