The cargo plane thundered through the skies, slicing through storm clouds like a steel blade through smoke. Inside, the roar of engines mixed with the rhythmic click of gear checks and nervous breaths.
Bravo Company sat in silence, twelve competitors strapped into the dimly lit bay, their gear stacked tight along the walls. Cameras were already rolling — tiny red lights glowed on their helmets, streaming everything to millions watching worldwide.
"Welcome back to the International Airsoft Championship Global Finals," a broadcast voice echoed faintly through the comms feed. "Today, the remaining 60 teams from 14 countries are en route to the battle zone — the legendary Island of Fire, where strategy, survival, and precision will determine the world champion."
Alex closed his eyes, steadying his breathing. Champion and Promise rested holstered against his thighs, freshly oiled and gleaming even in the low light. His rifle was secured at his side, every screw checked, every optic aligned.
Across from him, Marcus tightened the straps on his tactical vest. "This is it, team. Everything we've done until now — Nationals, the Reapers, the media storms — it all led here. No resets, no rematches. One island, one shot."
"Remind me," Maya said, tapping her comms mic. "What's the drop zone look like again?"
Sarah's tablet displayed a top-down 3D map projected into the center of the bay — a massive island shaped like a claw, ridges of volcanic rock rising from dense jungles and urban ruins.
"Primary zone's divided into four sectors," Sarah explained. "Alpha Ridge to the north — mountains and cliffs. Bravo Basin — dense jungle with swamp terrain. Charlie Point — coastal ruins. Delta Zone — volcanic ridge, active vents. We're being dropped into Bravo Basin, near the central river system."
Logan grinned under his visor. "Jungle warfare. Perfect."
Marcus gave him a look. "Perfect gets you killed. This isn't a match — it's a war game. Sixty teams. Twelve per team. That's seven hundred and twenty players on one island."
A tense silence followed.
---
The World Watches
On massive screens across the globe, millions tuned in.
Crowds packed viewing arenas from New York to Tokyo, watching the pre-drop feed.
"Teams are entering final briefing," announced the commentator. "This phase begins a multi-week survival event where elimination is permanent. Remember — every hit, every movement, every breath is broadcast live."
"And look at Bravo Company — the fan favorites. After their win against the Iron Reapers, their viewership numbers exploded. Half the planet's watching them right now."
The camera feed zoomed on Alex, quiet and focused, eyes steady under the red glow of the cabin light.
"There's the young champion himself — Alex Rivera, known for his impossible sniper precision and iconic twin sidearms. The story of Champion and Promise has become legend — the world loves him."
---
Pre-Deployment Briefing
The cabin lights shifted to red.
Over the intercom, a voice spoke — firm, clipped, professional:
> "Final briefing. Your mission is survival and dominance. 60 teams enter, one remains. The entire island is live-monitored by orbital drones and 10,000 sensor nodes. Landmine zones are active. Terrain hazards are real. Rescue medics are off-island — if you're wounded, your team medic is your only chance."
A digital timer appeared on the bulkhead: T-MINUS 05:00.
Rodriguez's voice came through private comms — patched in from Command back on the mainland.
> "Listen carefully. Once you're on the ground, you'll have twenty minutes of grace period before eliminations begin. Use it to find shelter, establish comms, and locate resources. No heroics. Survive first, dominate later."
Marcus nodded. "Copy that."
Alex looked to his teammates — every face lit by the pulsing red cabin light. Logan flexed his gloves. Maya adjusted her drone harness. Riley double-checked her medic scanner. Cameron locked his LMG into its harness with a metallic clack.
The camera drone hovering near Alex caught the moment — the quiet intensity in his expression. The live chat feed on global networks exploded:
> "That's him — look at Rivera's eyes, man's ice."
"Bravo Company's the real deal."
"GO BRAVO GO!"
---
The Drop
The green light blinked on.
"Drop doors opening!" the pilot called. The floor vibrated as the back ramp lowered, revealing a blinding wall of light and roaring wind.
"Bravo Company, move!" Marcus shouted.
One by one, they sprinted down the ramp and leapt into open air. Parachutes exploded above them like white blooms against the endless blue sky.
Below — the Island of Fire. Vast jungles. Glinting rivers. Columns of volcanic smoke rising like warning beacons.
Alex's descent was smooth. He kept his eyes on the terrain, marking a landing zone by a river bend surrounded by rock cover. "Marking LZ," he called. "South ridge, near river delta."
The rest of the team acknowledged, their HUDs locking onto the coordinate.
They hit the ground within seconds of each other, rolling smoothly into cover as parachutes detached.
"Everyone up?" Marcus asked.
"All accounted for," Maya replied, scanning the horizon. "No immediate contacts."
"Then we move," Marcus ordered. "Riley, establish a temporary medical post. Sarah, set up uplink. Alex, find me overwatch."
Alex was already moving, climbing the nearest rocky outcrop. The view from above was staggering — endless jungle stretching for miles, the distant shimmer of other parachutes descending in the distance.
His comms pinged with dozens of encrypted signals — other teams setting up across the island.
"This place is crawling," Alex muttered.
---
Establishing Camp
Within thirty minutes, Bravo Company had built a perimeter around the river delta. Camo tarps stretched between trees, drone nets extended into the canopy, and motion sensors blinked to life.
Cameron and Logan carried supply crates while Riley organized medical gear. Sarah's uplink tablet connected to the orbital drone feed — real-time topography updates displayed across their HUDs.
"This island's bigger than I thought," she said. "About twenty miles across. Dense jungle, scattered ruins, and three dormant volcanoes. Each one's been rigged with thermal sensors for heat anomalies — meaning they can track us through temperature spikes."
"So no campfires," Marcus muttered. "Got it."
Alex surveyed their setup — efficient, quiet, secure. But something nagged at him. "We're being watched already," he said softly.
Maya looked up. "By who?"
"Everyone," he said. "The drones, the commentators, the fans — and the other teams. They're studying us right now."
---
Across the Island
In other zones, elite teams were already establishing dominance.
The Eastern Wolves from Canada were fortifying the mountain ridge with claymore traps.
The Ghost Battalion from Russia had taken the highlands, already eliminating two teams.
And to the west, the Apex Predators — rebuilt and reinforced — had landed near the ruins of Charlie Point.
Elena Vasquez stood among them, mask gleaming silver under tropical sun. "Rivera's team landed near the river," she said. "We'll let them build comfort before we take it away."
Her new captain nodded. "Then the hunt begins."
---
The First Night
Darkness fell quickly over the jungle.
Bravo Company's camp glowed faintly with filtered lantern light. A silent rotation took turns watching the perimeter.
Alex lay awake beneath his bivouac tarp, listening to the soft hiss of insects and distant drone hum. His HUD displayed sensor pings — harmless animals, shifting leaves. Still, he couldn't shake the tension.
A private comm pinged in his earpiece. Marcus.
"You awake?"
"Yeah."
"Same here. Can't stop thinking about what comes next."
Alex smiled faintly. "We adapt. We survive. Same as always."
Marcus chuckled quietly. "You make it sound simple."
"Simple doesn't mean easy," Alex replied. "But we've been underdogs before."
Outside, thunder rumbled — distant, low, almost primal. Somewhere beyond the trees, another team's signal blinked offline. Eliminated.
One down. Fifty-nine to go.
---
Global Broadcast – Day One Recap
"Welcome back to Day One coverage of the International Airsoft Championship Finals!"
Massive screens showed drone footage of the island — teams moving through jungles, setting traps, scanning for others. The tension was electric.
"Bravo Company has secured an early position at the Bravo Basin river delta, a smart defensive choice."
"But the Apex Predators have landed nearby — and fans around the world are already buzzing about the inevitable rematch between Alex Rivera and Elena Vasquez."
"And look at this — social media feeds are calling it 'The Island War of Legends.' Sponsors are pouring in, betting odds are forming, and the whole world is glued to the feed."
The camera zoomed in on Alex sitting under the tarp, cleaning his pistols by the glow of a red lamp.
"There's the young American sniper again — focused, methodical, unaware that a storm is already heading his way."
---
The Final Line
The jungle rustled in the distance — faint, deliberate movement.
Maya whispered over comms, "We've got motion. North sector. Could be animals… or guests."
Alex's eyes snapped open. He holstered his pistols, grabbed his rifle, and moved toward the perimeter. The sensors flickered, showing a faint outline of six approaching signals.
Marcus's voice came low and steady. "Everyone up. Quiet and ready. Looks like our first visitors just found the river."
The night filled with silence — heavy, waiting.
Then, through the fog, a voice echoed from the darkness.
"Bravo Company. Long time no see."
Elena Vasquez stepped into view, her mask gleaming under the moonlight.
---
Author's Note:
The Island of Fire has begun — and so has the true test of Bravo Company's endurance, unity, and adaptability. The world watches their every move, every heartbeat, every shot fired.
Enemies are everywhere. Alliances will crumble. The hunt is about to begin.
Next chapter: Chapter 45 – Predators in the Mist.
The first blood is drawn under the crimson dawn.