Sweet Apocalypse System

Chapter 8

Night crept down like a filthy black blanket, covering the scars on the face of Bandung city. In Sector 4, the only source of light was a large bonfire burning in the middle of the logistics warehouse yard.

Boby and Irene lay prone on an embankment, 200 meters from the wire fence. The cold night wind was bone-chilling, but not as cold as their gazes. From this position, they could clearly see the bandits’ activity inside.

A heavyset man, who appeared to be their leader, was pacing back and forth in front of the prisoner cage. He wore a necklace made of beer bottle caps and held a whip fashioned from electrical cable.

“Hey! You lot! Still not gonna tell me where you found that gas yesterday?!” the bandit leader roared. His voice was hoarse and heavy.

One of the prisoners—a scrawny man whose hair was nearly gone—spat on the ground. “We found it in a junk car, Fat Boss. We’ve told you a hundred times.”

CRACK!

The bandit leader lashed the electrical cable across the thin man’s back. A red welt immediately appeared on his grimy skin. The man groaned in pain but did not scream.

“You’ve got a sharp mouth for someone who’s about to become dog food!” the leader laughed. The other bandits joined in, their voices rough and merciless.

Boby gritted his teeth. A wave of nausea rose in his throat, not from hunger, but from disgust. “Humans really are fouler than corpses, aren’t they?”

“That’s why I prefer dogs,” Irene replied coldly, her eyes glued to the binoculars. “They’re more trustworthy.”

[System: Detecting Crimes Against Humanity.]

[Side Mission 'Robin Hood Failed His Diet' Updated.]

[Primary Objective: Rescue the Prisoners.]

[Secondary Objective: Seize the Warehouse and take all the chocolate.]

[Reward: Recipe for 'Ujang's Special Protein Bar' (Restores 50% Stamina) + Major Karma Increase + Chance to Recruit New Member.]

The name 'Ujang' in the recipe felt strange and unfamiliar, but Boby focused more on the words 'Protein Bar' and '50% Stamina.'

“The System is offering me a protein bar recipe if we help them,” Boby whispered. “I’m tempted by the recipe.”

“I don’t care about the recipe,” Irene hissed. “I want to slice that Fat Guy’s throat. He reminds me of an official I killed back in the day.”

Irene’s thirst for vengeance was apparently greater than her pragmatism. Boby grinned in the shadows. “Good. Then we agree. You handle the Fat Guy, I’ll handle the kitchen.”

“What’s your plan, Clown?”

“Simple,” Boby pulled out a bottle rocket that he had modified with a long fuse made of cloth soaked in leftover gasoline from a junk motorcycle tank. “This is the ‘Distraction Rocket.’ I’m going to fire it at the wooden watchtower on the right. The wood is dry; it’ll go up in a huge blaze instantly.”

He pointed to the other side. “And this one, the ‘Special Throwing Firecrackers.’ This is just to create a commotion on the left side, near the pile of empty drums. They’ll be confused, thinking the attack is coming from two directions.”

“Then what?”

“In the middle of that chaos, you sneak through the hole in the fence back there,” Boby pointed to the blind spot he had spotted earlier. “Your goal is only one thing: unlock that cage. Don’t try to fight them alone. Open the cage, give the prisoners a chance to escape or fight back. That will increase the level of chaos inside.”

“And what will you be doing? Sitting pretty eating popcorn?” Irene sneered.

“Me? I’ll be a ghost,” Boby smiled mysteriously. “I’ll enter through the drainage pipe beneath the main warehouse. Your map showed access there. I’ll go straight to the food storage room. I need my ‘fuel,’ Ren. Once I get my sugar, then I can help you punch the Fat Guy.”

Irene pondered the plan. It was crazy, but it made sense. The plan didn’t rely on brute force, but on chaos and speed.

“What about Dogy?” Irene asked.

Boby looked over at Dogy, who lay quietly beside him, as if understanding every word. “He’s coming with me. His nose can lead me to the sweetest food.”

“Okay,” Irene decided. “I’m in on your crazy plan. When do we start?”

Boby looked toward the bonfire. The bandits were starting to get drunk. Some were already lying asleep near the fire. The guard in the tower also looked drowsy.

“Now,” Boby said.

He handed a rusty kitchen knife to Irene. “Here. It’s not a karambit, but it’s better than empty hands if you get cornered. I found it in the car earlier.”

Irene nodded, taking the knife.

Boby stuck the bottle rocket into the ground, aiming it precisely at the watchtower. He lit a match. The fuse began to burn, hissing softly.

“Good luck, Commander,” Boby whispered.

“Don’t die stupidly, Clown,” Irene replied.

Irene immediately moved, crawling silently through the bushes toward the back fence. Her movements were fast and efficient, blending into the night shadows.

Boby waited. Five seconds. Ten seconds.

WHOOSH!

The bottle rocket shot into the air with a deafening whistle.

The relaxing bandits were instantly startled. “What was that?!”

BOOM!

The rocket struck the wooden watchtower. As Boby had predicted, the dry wood immediately caught fire. The flames spread quickly, consuming the tower in seconds. The guard on top screamed in panic, then jumped down with his clothes burning.

“ATTACK! WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!” one of the bandits yelled.

Just then, on the other side of the complex, the throwing firecrackers Boby had set up with a long fuse also exploded.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The sound echoed among the empty drums, creating the illusion of machine gun fire.

“On the left! They’re on the left!” another bandit shouted.

Perfect chaos. The bandits ran helter-skelter, confused about where to go. Some tried to put out the fire, others ran toward the empty drums with weapons raised. Their attention was completely split.

In the midst of the confusion, Irene had reached the back fence. She slipped inside like a shadow.

Meanwhile, Boby and Dogy ran hunched over, heading toward the iron-grated drainpipe beneath the warehouse foundation.

Boby managed to pry open the grate with his crowbar. “Come on, Dog. Time for a treasure hunt.”

They entered the dark, smelly, narrow tunnel. Dogy sniffed around, leading the way.

In the yard, Irene reached the prisoner cage undetected. She hid behind a stack of burlap sacks. The cage padlock was large and thick. She couldn't open it without a key or bolt cutters.

She looked toward the bandit leader. The Fat Guy was shouting orders, the cage key dangling from his belt.

“Damn it,” Irene cursed. She had to get closer to the Fat Guy.

Suddenly, one of the prisoners inside the cage saw Irene. It was a young woman whose eyes were filled with terror. She didn't scream. She just stared at Irene, then moved her lips silently: Help...

Irene gave a slight nod, signaling her to remain quiet.

As Irene searched for an opportunity, one of the male prisoners, the largest and most battered one, slowly rose to his feet. He wasn't looking at Irene. He just stared at the chaos outside with eyes that were strangely... calm.

He turned to the other prisoners, who were trembling with fear. “Relax,” he said in a heavy voice with a thick Sundanese accent. “Urang boga firasat bagus peuting ieu.” (I have a good feeling about tonight.)

Suddenly, the large man yelled. It wasn't a typical cry for help. It was a shout intended to draw attention.

“HEY FAT GUY! COME HERE IF YOU DARE! ONE ON ONE!”

The bandit leader turned, his face red with fury. “Oh, the Market Thug still has guts, huh?! You wanna die fast, Ujang?!”

The Fat Guy walked arrogantly toward the cage, leaving his subordinates still busy with the fire and the sound of firecrackers.

Irene saw her chance. While the Fat Guy was busy cursing the prisoner named Ujang, Irene would sneak up from behind to steal the key.

The prisoner rescue plan entered its most dangerous phase. Inside the darkness of the warehouse, Boby and Dogy were getting closer to their chocolate heaven. And outside, an iron woman prepared to dance with the devil for a key.