The others trembled at the sheer determination radiating off him. They had never seen Adam like this. They'd caught glimpses of that stubborn edge before coming here… but now it felt different. Sharper. Unhinged. Almost dangerous.
"The fuck you mean?! You're gonna take a swim with crocodiles? You think it's like picking a Louis Vuitton handbag with your girlfriend? Those bags don't bite back!" Blake burst out, anger burning through him. He would absolutely support Adam in everything — he believed the guy could achieve anything, he had seen his monstrous talent. But this? This made no sense. Not a single part of it was normal or safe.
"Not to mention everything else! The whole place is crawling with insects that hunt small animals — and that's only because they haven't figured out they can go after bigger prey yet. It's like waking up ten times bigger and still thinking you should eat mice. Give them time and they'll start looking at us the same way. You think you're a superhero or something?" he continued, voice rising with every word.
He paused, needing to take a breath. The entire time, Adam's gaze hadn't shifted — not a flicker, not a crack. Blake's words bounced off him like nothing.
"I supported you coming here… I joked about you trying to kill yourself, man, but that was a joke. Now you're actually doing it?" he said, the anger draining into a tired, almost defeated sigh.
Adam didn't answer right away. He just scanned the group, one face after another. Hesitation. Fear. Doubt.
Then his eyes landed on Patty.
Same expression as always. No fear. No panic. Just that quiet, worn‑out fatigue he carried everywhere.
Adam almost found it funny. The one who never spoke up, never argued, never looked brave… was also the one who had never once opposed him. With Patty, silence had always counted as support.
"Answer me, fucker!" Blake snapped, grabbing Adam's shoulder.
Adam turned toward him. No hesitation. No anger. Just a cold, steady certainty.
He grabbed Blake's face with both hands, holding him still, and spoke each word like a truth carved in stone:
"I won't die. Nothing's ever managed to break me — and this won't be the first."
He released Blake and held his gaze for a brief, heavy second — calm, steady, unshakable.
Then he grinned, as if the whole thing was obvious.
"Ask people what's more dangerous: free‑climbing a flat wall a hundred meters up… or a crocodile. They'll all say the same thing."
Blake stared at him, dumbfounded. He didn't know if Adam was losing it… or if he was the one going crazy, because somehow, coming from Adam, it almost sounded logical.
Felix snapped back to reality. He wanted this job over with as fast as possible — and honestly, whatever happened to the client wasn't really his responsibility. As long as he wasn't the one in danger, agreeing was the safest option. And Adam's plan… well, it was a compromise. They'd leave right after. Not even waiting for the first night. He shuddered at the thought of staying here any longer.
He turned toward Austin, voice low and tense.
"How far is it from here?"
Austin hesitated, already understanding what Felix was really asking.
"Around ten kilometers… maybe a bit more."
Felix did a quick calculation in his head, forcing down the rising panic.
It should be fine. They had more than enough fuel in the tank…
He exhaled sharply.
"Ok… you're the boss."
He turned back to his seat, hands already moving over the controls as he began powering up the helicopter systems.
"Wait— you're not really gonna help him?" Blake said, grabbing Felix's shoulder.
Felix flinched at the touch, a tremor running through him. He was still wound tight, nerves stretched thin by the whole situation.
"He's the boss. The one paying me…" he said, forcing his voice to stay steady. "If I refuse when I haven't even delivered a third of my service, that's a problem."
He swallowed, calmer now, almost resigned.
"Business is business."
Meanwhile, Adam had already started doing light stretches and warm‑up exercises, as if preparing for a casual workout.
"Guys, say something!" Blake turned toward the others.
Tom snapped — for the first time since they'd arrived. His voice broke under the pressure.
"What do you want us to do? He's the leader here, he's the one who paid for the service!" He gestured helplessly toward Felix and the controls. "It's not like we can just decide anything. I'm telling you — forget it. Let him do his jump, and we leave right after."
He continued, voice dropping to a low, uneasy murmur:
"As for whether he survives or not… it's not like it's our problem, right? We've known him for, what, two weeks? We're here because the pay is good. That's it."
Blake's anger spiked at that.
"What should I expect from a coward like you?" he spat.
He turned to the others.
"What about you guys?"
"I believe in him..." Patty said — the longest sentence he'd spoken since Cape York. "We haven't known each other long... but if he says he can... then he can. And if not… at least he'll die fulfilled..."
Blake turned toward Austin. Patty's answer didn't surprise him — the man had always been unshakable, never hesitating once since they'd started working together.
Austin hesitated, then sighed.
"Same here. It's not like we have a choice. We can't exactly stop him by force."
A flash of desperation crossed Blake's mind. His hand dropped toward his gun—
—but another hand clamped down on his wrist, firm and immovable.
Patty.
He didn't say a word. He didn't need to.
His eyes alone were enough.
Blake swallowed hard, then tried one last time.
"Adam, let's compromise. We do it — but at least wait until you've familiarized yourself with the spot. If not, you'll be going in completely blind."
Adam, still stretching, didn't even pause.
"Nope. I'm doing it now. If I wait, something else will happen. And then I won't be able to do it."
Blake's jaw clenched.
"Fuck all of you," he muttered, voice shaking with rage.
He kicked Tom in the shin.
"You better make yourself useful. I'm not letting my friend die because he ate a rock on a bad turn." He pointed at the laptop with a trembling hand. "Modelize that shit. Quickly. I'll give him instructions during the jump."
Tom, startled by the intensity in Blake's voice, fumbled to open his laptop, fingers shaking as he launched the software and began working as fast as he could.
From the cockpit, Felix's voice cut through the tension:
"Lifting off."
The helicopter rose sharply, the skids leaving the ground as the rotors hammered the air.
Austin, now seated beside Felix, leaned forward and pointed through the windshield.
"Okay, you see that sharp split in the middle?" he said, voice steady despite the tension. "That line where the forest suddenly turns into marsh? Follow that. Just stay right on the boundary."
Felix squinted, spotting the abrupt transition — dense green canopy on one side, pale, water‑logged terrain on the other, like someone had drawn a knife through the landscape.
"Got it," he muttered, adjusting their heading.
As the helicopter surged forward, cutting through the shifting landscape below, a strange split‑scene settled inside the cabin.
On one side, Adam and Patty looked almost relaxed — Adam stretching calmly, Patty checking his joints and helping him warm up with the same quiet focus as always.
Up front, Austin and Felix navigated with tight jaws and stiff shoulders, every second of flight sharpening their tension.
And behind them, in the cramped rear of the cabin, Blake was practically breathing fire at Tom, who hunched over his laptop, trying to modelize the drop zone before they arrived.
"It's here. You see the canyon there? That scar on the ground?" Austin said, pointing toward a long, jagged line cutting through the terrain.
Felix angled the helicopter toward it, bringing them lower, the rotors thundering as the canyon grew larger beneath them.
A few seconds later, he steadied the aircraft in a hover just above the spot.
"Okay, we're here," he shouted over the roar. "Jump whenever you're ready. We'll follow you from a distance and pick you up after your dive."
Then, quieter — almost to himself:
"…if you manage to reach the end, that is."
Adam was already in the zone. He barely heard him. His movements were automatic, precise — slipping into the wingsuit while Patty tightened the straps and checked every buckle with methodical efficiency.
At the back, Tom finally stopped typing.
"Okay," he said, wiping the sweat running down his forehead. "I did what I could. You don't have every detail, but in thirty minutes, that's the best I can do. You've got the overall path."
He turned the laptop toward Blake, the rough 3D model still rendering in shaky polygons.
Blake didn't even look at Tom. He snatched the computer, plugged in his headset, and moved straight toward Adam.
"Adam! We've got a barely functional path," he said, raising his voice over the rotors. "I'll guide you during the jump through the camera on your helmet, but you'll have to react fast and trust your instincts. There's almost no leeway in this canyon, and I can only give rough calls. Some of the angles are brutal, and it's way narrower than the Daintree where you trained."
He paused as Adam finished tightening the last strap and turned toward him, fully focused.
"The final dive is worse," Blake continued. "With training, it wouldn't be a problem, but here you don't have that luxury. There's not enough distance for you to slow down before the drop, so you'll need to react faster and harder. And you'll have to deploy the parachute earlier."
He handed Adam a pair of earpods, his expression dead serious.
Finally, he asked one last time:
"You're sure you want to do this? I mean… even if you know your stuff, you've still got the croc to worry about, and—well—there are insects all over the canyon. We have no idea how they'll react. You can still change your mind."
"I'm sure," Adam said. "I'll succeed, and we'll walk out of here like nothing ever happened."
He smiled — not cocky, not reckless, but with a quiet conviction that made Blake's stomach twist. Then he dropped his goggles over his eyes and pulled the breathing mask into place, the straps snapping tight against his jaw.
Felix's voice came from the cockpit, loud enough to cut through the rotors:
"Be careful when you open the door. Don't stumble, and don't let the air current pull you out."
Adam signed an OK with his hand, steadied himself, and opened the door. The others were already strapped in behind him.
A violent gust slammed into the cabin, rattling loose straps and sending papers fluttering. The wind tore at his suit, roared in his ears, and filled the helicopter with a raw, wild pressure.
Adam just stood there for a second, letting it hit him.
He absorbed the moment — the force, the noise, the sheer intensity of it. This was why he did it. Not for the cameras, not for the challenge, not even for the achievement.
For this.
For the instant where everything sharpened, where the world narrowed to a single point, where he felt completely, overwhelmingly alive.
And right here, on the edge of the open door, he had never felt better.
Then he jumped — a clean, decisive motion — and vanished in a flash beneath the cabin.
For a heartbeat, Blake's eyes went blank, his brain refusing to process the sudden emptiness where Adam had been. Then everything snapped back into place.
He spun toward Tom and exploded:
"What the fuck are you doing?! Use your drone! Film him! Otherwise what's the fucking point?!"
Tom jolted back to life. He powered up the drone, grabbed his tablet, and launched it through the open door. Patty slammed the door shut behind it, sealing the cabin from the roaring wind.
Blake was already leaning toward his microphone, eyes locked on the live feed.
"Adam, can you hear me? You'll need to enter through the big opening you see ahead — it's the widest access point into the canyon. Angle yourself toward it and stay almost parallel to the wall. If you come in too steep, you'll crash."
Adam, falling through the air, felt euphoric.
The world roared around him, but inside his chest everything opened — like something had just unclenched. The wind hammered his suit, the ground rushed up in a blur, and yet he felt a clarity so sharp it bordered on unreal. Every sensation hit at once: the cold slicing past his cheeks, the pressure on his limbs, the vibration of the air, the weightlessness, the speed.
It was overwhelming. It was perfect.
For the first time in his life, he felt completely aligned — mind, body, instinct — all firing in the same direction. No fear. No hesitation. Just pure, electric focus.
And as the canyon's dark mouth grew larger beneath him, he had never felt more alive.
Hearing Blake's voice in his ear, he glanced down and spotted the opening he was talking about — a wide, jagged gap that stood out from the narrow corridor of the canyon. It was the only entry point with any real margin for error.
Adam angled his body, letting instinct take over. His arms shifted, legs adjusted, and his whole frame tilted into the dive with a precision that felt almost automatic.
---
Then he launched himself toward the opening, slicing through the air like an arrow.
The opening surged toward him, swelling in his vision. He slipped through it in a perfect, instinctive line.
As he entered the canyon for the first time, a river flashed into view far below — bright, winding, alive. Wildlife scattered along the banks, animals and insects bursting into motion as his shadow tore past.
He stayed high, riding the wind.
Suddenly, the terrain shifted ahead.
"Turn left!" Blake's voice snapped in his ear.
Instinct took over. Adam leaned left, carving the first turn with perfect precision.
He kept going, letting his body absorb the chaotic gusts slamming him from different directions, adjusting micro‑movements to maintain altitude and speed.
"Left!"
He turned instantly, no hesitation. A sharp rock jutted from the ground and whipped past his side — so close he felt the turbulence peel along his arm.
"Right!"
He turned again, cutting through the air with surgical precision.
"Next is a meandering zig‑zag path for about five hundred meters," Blake said, his voice tight. "You'll have to trust your body. If I keep giving instructions, I'll just throw you off. Good luck."
Adam's mind sharpened. The path ahead twisted and shifted so fast it felt like the canyon was rearranging itself in front of him.
He breathed once — and stopped thinking entirely.
His body switched to pure automatic mode. Muscles firing before the thought even formed. Reflexes snapping faster than conscious reaction. Every micro‑adjustment came from instinct alone: a shoulder dip, a knee twist, a subtle shift of his hips to catch a gust or avoid one.
He wasn't processing the turns anymore. He was anticipating them, moving through the zigzag like he'd flown it a hundred times.
The canyon blurred around him as he threaded the path with impossible fluidity
Slash.
A jagged rock clipped him during a tight turn, tearing a shallow cut along his side. It didn't hit the wingsuit — just his flank — a lucky miss by centimeters.
He didn't feel pain. If anything, the shock sharpened him even further. His senses spiked, vision narrowing, instincts flaring hotter than before.
He pushed on, faster — stabilizing himself with inhuman speed.
From the helicopter, Blake looked impossibly tense. He stared at the camera feed, the image whipping and jerking with impossible velocity. Adam was moving far faster than anything Blake had ever seen in training footage.
He didn't understand how Adam was still alive in there. The turns were tighter than expected. The walls closer. The path far more chaotic than the rough model they'd built.
They hadn't had the time to study it properly — and now it showed.
Blake swallowed hard, gripping the tablet so tightly his knuckles whitened.
Adam turned again, carving through another bend, then another — until, with a final snap of movement, he burst out of the maze.
"Fifteen hundred meters! You're halfway there," Blake said, voice tight. "It's mostly straight lines from here, but stay sharp — you're entering a shadowy area. Tom noted a massive concentration of insects in this section."
A dark stretch of canyon came into view, rapidly closing in — a pocket hidden from the sun.
Adam caught it immediately. Even from afar, he could see clusters clinging to the walls: swarms of what looked like native bees drifting in thick, lazy clouds; mats of small ground spiders rippling over the rock; and other shapes he couldn't even identify — clouds of midges, fat beetles wedged in cracks, and pale winged insects circling in uneven spirals. Some hovered. Some skittered. Some pulsed in tight, restless knots.
Adam didn't care. Right now, to him, they were just more obstacles — shapes to dodge, nothing more.
He pushed his senses to the limit, locking into a straight line through the center, aiming for the path with the least concentration of movement.
He plunged into it, his vision dimming as the sunlight vanished behind him.
For a moment, nothing happened. Just the rush of air. Just the dark.
Then a swarm materialized ahead — dense, fast, and impossible to dodge. Too big to slip through cleanly. Too concentrated to punch through without consequences. If he hit them head‑on, he'd lose balance. If they clung to him, they'd tear at his skin or drag him off‑course.
Adam reacted instantly. He tightened every muscle, angling upward toward the thinnest part of the mass. And just before impact, he folded his arms and legs in, tucking into a compact shape — then spun, a controlled, violent twist, like a torpedo cutting through water.
He pierced straight into the swarm.
Impact hit him in a burst of buzzing and tiny collisions, the vibration running through his whole body. For a moment, he cut through cleanly — but the drag hit him a second later, pulling at his limbs, stealing altitude.
He dropped.
Instinct snapped back. He flared his arms and legs open, feeling the ground through his senses, correcting his angle with a sharp twist. His trajectory stabilized, then lifted again.
That's when the numbness spread across his back. A cluster of stingers had punched through the fabric, leaving a hot, spreading ache.
These mutated creatures are no joke… he thought, the pain yanking him out of his flow state for a brief, disorienting instant.
He forced a breath, reset his focus, and locked in again. He skimmed through the darkness, dodging dropping insects and leaping ones, slipping past other clusters the same way — tight movements, sharp angles, never slowing. Whenever something tried to cling to him, he shook it off with a violent snap of motion, not without earning a few more scratches along the way.
Finally, light returned, the canyon opening up as he burst out of the shadowed stretch.
"Two thousand five hundred meters! You're at the end!" Blake's voice cracked through the comms, strained with pressure. "You'll see a left turn soon — right after it, you need to start slowing down. You'll barely have a few hundred meters to stop and dive!"
A turn rushed into view. Adam took it smoothly, and the canyon opened onto a sudden stretch of blue — a lake filling the basin ahead.
Without hesitation, he shifted his body almost perpendicular to his trajectory, bracing for deceleration, and deployed the small parachutes on his back.
He slowed down little by little — but not nearly as much as he should have. The pull felt weak, uneven. Something was wrong.
Behind him, the small parachute fluttered erratically, a long tear running through the fabric. Likely from one of the insects earlier.
Not knowing what had failed, he spread himself as wide as he could, trying to catch as much wind as possible to slow down.
It worked — just not enough.
The lake was rushing up at him, the surface flashing brighter with every second. He angled his body harder, almost perpendicular to the ground now, letting the air slam against him and bleed off speed. The torn parachute still pulled unevenly, but even damaged, it helped. Every meter counted.
"Don't forget the crocs !" Blake's voice burst out.
Adam noticed them for a brief instant, a small group of what looked like dead trees.
He angled himself towards the side, trying to dive as far away as possible.
He tucked his arms in, straightened his legs, and shifted into a clean, downward line. The last of his speed burned off in a long, controlled slide through the air.
Then he dove — feet first, at a sharp angle — straight into the lake.
The impact hit like a hammer, a brutal shock that shot up his legs and punched the breath from his chest. But nothing snapped. Nothing tore. The angle had saved him.
He plunged deep, the world turning cold and silent around him.
A sharp ringing filled his head, but the icy water and the instinctive panic of losing oxygen snapped him back. He kicked hard, forcing his body upward.
He broke the surface with a gasp, dragging in a lungful of air.
For a second, he just floated there — stunned, breathless — then the realization slammed into him.
He'd done it.
A wild exhilaration surged through him, raw and electric. He tore off his face mask, lifted his arms toward the helicopter still hovering in the distance, and screamed into the earphones:
"I DID IT!"
He waved both arms, laughing breathlessly, water splashing around him.
Blake seeing him emerge felt the pressure finally drop.
"FUCK YEAH! YOU DID IT!" he screamed into the mic, nearly blowing Adam's eardrums.
The others sagged with relief. Some because Adam was alive. Others because it meant they could finally leave this cursed place.
"Did you capture everything?" Blake asked, turning toward Tom and his drone controls.
"Most of it… I couldn't get the part in the dark section," Tom admitted, hesitant.
"Don't be like that, I'm not gonna eat you!" Blake laughed, slapping him on the back.
"Okay Felix, let's go grab him and we're out!"
"Agreed. Let's get him out of here," Felix said, already guiding the helicopter forward.
Out on the lake, Adam was still waving, grinning like a madman. Seeing the helicopter approach, he felt a surge of pride. He knew he'd succeed — and he had.
Everything ended wel—
SCREECH.