Bad Contract 2, Part 2

Soldiers in wetsuits boarded the medium-sized vessel. They moved with stealth and precision, planting explosives to sow chaos across the ship and silently neutralizing the lone guards on patrol. Moving in perfect unison like highly trained operatives, their seamless coordination instantly gripped ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the audience with tension. This was especially true when they saw the eyes of the man leading them, his face concealed beneath a balaclava.

'Who is that?'

'His movements are incredibly sharp.'

In a split second, he drew a knife and slit a guard's throat. Just like that, they took control of the vessel. After a few more striking action sequences... the ship's lights suddenly flared to life. A spectacular hail of bullets rained down upon them.

A mounted machine gun, installed in preparation for a potential firefight at sea, spat fire. Esposito stood behind it, a cigarette clamped between his teeth, unleashing a relentless torrent of lead. The moment the fiery barrage ceased and the surviving soldiers, barely grasping the situation, scrambled to counterattack, a sudden volley of bullets flew from beside a shipping container.

"Commander!" one of the soldiers screamed, prompting the leader to whip his head around.

"I've seen fish belly up on a deck before, but this is a first!" Alex yelled as he flanked them. He had doubled back after telling Esposito to open fire with the machine gun. The rest of the mercenaries, finally realizing what was happening, joined the fray, igniting a fierce, chaotic gunfight on the deck.

Sharp, heavy gunfire echoed. The camera shook violently. Amidst the chaos, Alex moved with a speed that left the audience's brains struggling to keep up. After firing off a volley, he sprinted to the opposite side and dove behind cover, his face contorting in pain.

"Damn it, I should've chewed a few more painkillers before coming out here," he muttered.

Right then, an explosion ripped through the air. The ship lurched violently and began to list. The heavy shipping containers shifted to one side, dragging the entire vessel down with them. Losing his footing and sliding across the deck, Alex scrambled desperately onto one of the tilting containers.

"Tsk...!"

"Alex! It's too dangerous! One stray bullet in the wrong spot and this whole ship goes up, frying us all!" Esposito roared.

"Why don't you tell them that? If they even speak English, that is!" Alex shot back.

On a ship loaded with weapons, a single stray bullet could trigger a catastrophic explosion. With the vessel already on the verge of sinking due to the enemy's charges, the danger was absolute.

"Damn it, no choice then..." Under a relentless hail of bullets and with the enemy closing in, Alex used his wits and yelled, "Esposito!"

"What?!"

"On my mark, just like when I took Miranda! To the left!"

In that split second, only Esposito and Alex understood the absurd reference. Trusting that his partner got the message, Alex leaped into action. He bounded across the shifting containers, grabbed a hanging rope, and swung across the deck while unleashing a fierce burst from his assault rifle. Flying through the air, he made a precarious landing on the ship's cargo crane. Enemy bullets grazed the very spot he had occupied just a moment before.

He shoved the key into the ignition and started the crane, attempting to swing the boom—which was currently listing to the right along with the containers—to the opposite side. However, the sheer weight of the shifted cargo kept the crane jammed in place.

"Now!" At Alex's signal, Esposito slammed the throttle and whipped the wheel hard to the left. The ship lurched violently, sending the crane swinging to the left at a terrifying speed. The combined momentum caused the massive containers to slide rapidly across the deck in the opposite direction.

"Aaaargh!"

The soldiers on deck were swept up in the sudden shift. Some threw themselves into the freezing water to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠avoid being crushed by the sliding steel boxes. Without slowing down, Esposito's ship broke free and made its escape. Inside the crane cabin, hanging upside down, Alex muttered, "Damn it... who the hell were those guys?"

The film wrapped up the chaotic sequence by shifting to the perspective of the mysterious attackers. As the ship receded into the distance, a man broke the surface of the water, pulling off his balaclava to check on his surviving comrades. He had a heavy five o'clock shadow and sharp, deep-set eyes—the quintessential look of a ruthless villain.

'Who is that?'

'Oh... I've never seen him before, but he's got a great look.'

The audience couldn't help but marvel at his screen presence. He was the main villain of the film—the British rookie actor whom Sion Lee had personally helped cast: Jason Statham.

The ship carrying Alex anchored in the Mediterranean to assess the damage. They used the crane to return the containers to their proper positions, recovered the bodies of their fallen mercenaries, and searched the dead attackers for any identification. However, they found nothing of value. In the midst of this, Esposito turned to Alex.

"Whose daughter did you sleep with this time?"

"Shut your mouth. It's nothing like that."

"Then you think this is normal? Ha! Pirates these days are acting like special forces operatives."

"You really have no idea who they are?"

"Never seen anything like it in my life."

"Then they must have been after me."

"You? Why?"

"I had to save America a while back. Ever since then, guys like that keep popping up."

"A bounty?"

"Probably."

"So they tried to blow up my ship just to get to you? What kind of crazy bastards are they? No, wait... Get off. Get off my ship right now! I was a fool to let a guy like you on board. If you had this kind of baggage, you shouldn't have taken the job in the first place!"

"I'm not entirely sure it was me... and besides, you were the one who practically begged me to join. I told you I wanted out."

"Damn it! How did I get mixed up with a guy like you again?!"

"Sigh..."

Alex let ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠out a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of dragging Esposito into his mess. "Hold on. Let me ask someone who might know." The "someone" he referred to was, of course, the CIA's Miss Silver. Alex attempted to establish contact using the private channel she had given him before they parted ways. Miss Silver, who had already been searching for him, answered with relief. As it turned out, they were both looking for each other for the exact same reason.

Hearing this, Alex let out a dry chuckle. "Figures. I guess a dollar bill lying on the street has more value to them, huh?"

With grim resolve, Alex abruptly cut the connection. Unaware of his sudden departure, Miss Silver called out his name several times, but only silence met her ears. "Damn it!" Back at CIA headquarters, gripped by an ominous premonition that something terrible was about to unfold, Miss Silver rose from her desk with a tense expression and hurried out of the room.

Meanwhile, after ending the call, Alex borrowed a lifeboat from Esposito. "Don't go dying on me, you idiot," Esposito grumbled, his harsh words failing to hide his genuine concern. With that, Alex boarded the lifeboat and made his way back to his workshop.

He had been ambushed on the Mediterranean by highly trained, professional assassins. This meant only one thing: information had leaked from somewhere. Muttering that there wasn't a single soul he could trust, Alex packed his gear and immediately abandoned his workshop, securing a short-term rental house to lay low. Using the equipment he had on hand and the gear he had salvaged from his workshop, he began to "prepare."

Accompanied by a tense, fast-paced soundtrack and rapid cuts, the assassins—having received Alex's location from an unknown source—began to mobilize. Finally, Miss Silver, who had flown in from the United States while Alex was preparing, joined the fray. The film laid down a crucial piece of foreshadowing, showing her eyes widening in shock as she reviewed a document on her flight.

At last, the three forces converged on a single location. Lying on his bed, Alex sensed the intruders and quietly slipped to his feet. There were at least ten of them, fully geared. Recognizing them instantly as the same operatives who had raided the ship, Alex cut the power to the entire house the moment they breached the perimeter.

"What the...?!"

"Stay calm," the leader commanded, steadying his momentarily panicked men. "Night vision."

The soldiers flipped down their night-vision goggles in unison, only to be met with a blinding flash of light.

"Aaaargh!"

Their vision was instantly blown out, and a fierce gunfight erupted in the darkness.

"Why is it that guys with fancy gear always fall for the same trick?" Alex ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠muttered. Armed with a suppressed pistol, he began neutralizing the soldiers one by one. He aimed for non-lethal spots, engaging in brutal hand-to-hand combat to take down those who rushed him blindly. Suddenly, the leader lunged forward from the shadows. Amazingly, he was completely unaffected by the flash.

"Ugh...!" A sharp, powerful punch slammed into Alex's solar plexus. Caught off guard, Alex's eyes widened. The leader, who had anticipated the trap and delayed lowering his night-vision goggles, moved in for the kill with cold, emotionless efficiency. He casually sprayed a burst from his submachine gun, cutting down his own men who got in the way. Alex barely managed to dodge, staring in shock. An enemy who slaughtered his own allies without a second thought—who on earth was pulling the strings behind this monster?

"Is it because of the bounty on my head? We're both just 'expendable' assets, so why don't we play nice?" Alex gasped. The leader remained silent. "Either you don't speak English, or you've got the brain of a gorilla...!" Despite his injuries, Alex fought back fiercely. With most of the other soldiers neutralized or dead, the two men locked in a brutal, one-on-one duel.

Set against the backdrop of a beautiful, white Venetian cottage, the action was raw and visceral, eschewing cinematic exaggeration for gritty realism. Plates were hurled and shattered; kicks were thrown the moment a blow was blocked. They grappled, trying to snap each other's joints, grabbing whatever weapon was within reach without hesitation. As the grueling struggle dragged on, Alex grew increasingly exhausted, pushed to the very brink of death.

"Gah!" Alex was finally thrown to the floor, crashing heavily. The cold muzzle of the submachine gun pointed directly at his head. A tense, breathless silence hung in the air.

Suddenly, a roaring engine shattered the quiet. A motorcycle crashed through the glass window, bursting into the room. Startled, the leader dove out of the way as the woman riding the bike shouted, "Alex!"

Recognizing the familiar voice, Alex scrambled onto the back of the motorcycle. Miss Silver, having successfully rescued him, sped away toward a safe house. Once they finally caught their breath, Alex began treating his wounds.

"Are you... alright?"

"I'm used to it. Don't worry about it."

Alex was still a battered mess. His body was covered in deep bruises and jagged cuts. This physical state put Sion Lee's perfectly sculpted physique on full display across the theater screen, leaving the audience staring in awe as if admiring a masterpiece.

"As I suspected, this is connected to the previous incident," Miss Silver said as Alex slowly tended to his wounds. "It was ordered by 'Wolf' from that PMC."

"That bastard is dead."

"Which means someone else is using his name... It must be because of what happened last time. The faction that managed to cut ties and slip away wants to tie up loose ends by eliminating you."

"That defense contractor? If they want to test new weapons, they should stick to animals."

"They can't leave you alive when you know where the bodies are buried. They're terrified you might hold information that could ruin them if leaked. It's frustrating that we don't have any concrete evidence."

"It's always like that," Alex said, a bitter smile playing on his lips.

A sudden barrage of assassination attempts. Despite having stopped a biochemical terror attack out of a sense of "goodwill"—even if it wasn't entirely selfless—he had gained absolutely nothing. Instead, he was plunged into an even greater crisis. Yet, this man brushed it off with his usual casual humor, acting as if this kind of injustice was just an everyday occurrence. Miss Silver watched him with a conflicted expression. As a dedicated CIA operative who had always believed in her country's righteousness, she asked:

"Just accept the protection program."

"I don't know..."

"Why are you being so stubborn? You're not just a regular mercenary anymore. You've been dragged into international politics just because you stopped that attack... You'll be hunted for the rest of your life. You'll never be able to live normally again."

"Aren't you putting yourself in danger too?"

"What?"

"By sticking around a guy with a target on his back. Besides, the CIA is just watching from the sidelines, looking out for their own interests... They have no intention of actually helping someone like me."

"That's..."

Miss Silver fell silent. He was right. In a way, this intervention was an unauthorized, solo action taken by a rookie field agent. If the CIA found out, she would face severe consequences. No one was purely good, but they weren't purely evil either. Everyone was simply moving to serve their own interests. Disgusted by this reality, Alex spoke with a rare, dead-serious expression.

"It's a real shitshow. But what can you do? You gotta do what you gotta do."

It was a line that made the audience clench their fists in silent solidarity.