"Professor, who exactly are these two?"
While Dominik was silently evaluating Leon's stats via the System, Leon was simultaneously appraising Dominik and the towering man beside him. Seeing the heavy weaponry and the cold, hardened demeanor of the masked operator, Leon turned to Quaid with a questioning look.
"Oh, right." Quaid patted his pockets nervously, gesturing toward Dominik. "I forgot to properly introduce them in the chaos. This is Dominik, and his... private security associate. They extracted us."
Leon walked up to the two men, his hand extended, his posture radiating a practiced, professional confidence. "I'm Agent Kennedy. I'm truly grateful to both of you."
Even without Quaid's explanation, Leon's trained eyes could read a battlefield. He knew that without these two, the Senator's daughter would have been another tragic casualty of the Mandalay outbreak. He was genuinely thankful.
[Received emotional feedback from Leon S. Kennedy. Degree: Professional Gratitude. Points awarded: 5.]
"Don't mention it." Dominik grasped Leon's hand firmly, offering a tired smile. "Just call me Dominik. Truthfully, my only objective was to get my sister out of that hotel." He glanced affectionately at Laura. "Extracting the Professor and Ashley was just a matter of being in the right place at the right time."
"Heh." Leon smirked, clearly impressed. "To pull a VIP out of a hot zone like that with just a two-man element... your unit's CQB skills must be top-tier."
"It's mainly thanks to my partner," Dominik said, clapping the masked man on the shoulder. "Without Ghost covering our six, none of us would have made it across the border alive."
Leon turned his charming, easygoing smile toward the operator, extending his hand. "Hell of a job, Ghost."
Ghost looked at the outstretched hand. Perhaps he was inherently distrustful of government agents, or perhaps he simply despised Leon's boyish, "action-hero" charisma. He kept his arms resting on his SCAR-L, the skull balaclava betraying absolutely no emotion. After a long, agonizing moment of silence, he gave Leon a cold, measuring stare.
"Ghost," he replied flatly, completely ignoring the handshake.
"Uh..." Met with a wall of pure ice, Leon awkwardly withdrew his hand, clearing his throat and adjusting his tactical belt.
Dominik shook his head helplessly. Leon might be an S-Tier survivor, but when it came to reading the room with a Tier One operator, the agent was still a bit of a rookie.
To ease the palpable tension, Dominik stepped slightly between them. "Sorry about that, Agent Kennedy. My partner isn't exactly the diplomatic type. He lets his rifle do the talking. Don't take it personally."
"It's fine. I've worked with worse," Leon said, quickly recovering his professional composure. He tapped his earpiece. "I need to get Professor Sears, Ashley, and Jean to the secure Embassy compound immediately for debriefing."
"Understood. Take care, Professor. Ashley." Dominik nodded to them.
Leon pressed the push-to-talk button on his shoulder radio. "Command, this is Kennedy. Packages secured. Move the convoy in for extraction."
Seconds later, the heavy steel gates to the holding area opened, and a convoy of reinforced, black armored SUVs rolled into the lot. The CAT operators rapidly formed a human shield, ushering Quaid, Ashley, and Jean into the heavily armored vehicles.
Before getting into the lead SUV himself, Leon turned back to Dominik. "Dominik, the Senator owes you a massive debt for saving his daughter. What's your PMC's standard commission rate for a high-value extraction?"
"Commission?" Dominik blinked. Even Ghost's eyes narrowed in slight confusion beneath the mask.
"Yeah, your fee," Leon clarified, stepping closer. "You're mercenaries, right? The US government—or at least Adam Benford personally—will ensure you are compensated generously for this."
"Ah. Right." Dominik hesitated. He had only fed that mercenary cover story to the corrupt border captain to explain their arsenal and the duffel bag of cartel cash. He hadn't expected the United States Secret Service to take it completely at face value and offer to put them on the payroll.
"Look, how about this," Leon said, pulling out a secured smartphone. "Give me your comms number. Once I file my after-action report, I'll have the Senator's people contact you to arrange payment."
"I lost my phone in the jungle," Dominik said, shrugging. He gently pulled Laura forward. "Take my sister's number. Her phone survived. You can route the details through her."
Hearing this, Leon turned to Laura, flashing his signature, devastatingly handsome smile. "Ma'am. Would you mind giving me your number?"
"Sure." Laura, however, seemed entirely immune to the 'Kennedy Curse' of charm. Having grown up surviving the harsh realities of the European foster system with Dominik and Simon, she wasn't easily swayed by a pretty face. She politely but indifferently rattled off her phone number.
Leon, clearly accustomed to a warmer reception, looked a bit deflated as he typed the digits into his encrypted device.
Seeing Leon trying to charm his little sister instantly triggered Dominik's overprotective instincts. He stepped in front of Laura, leveling a dark glare at the agent. "Hey. Don't think you can hit on my sister just because you have nice hair and a government badge, Kennedy."
Leon held up his hands defensively, letting out an embarrassed laugh. "Whoa, easy there. Strictly professional, I swear. My apologies."
With that, Leon gave a final nod, jogged over to the lead SUV, and climbed inside. The doors slammed shut, and the convoy—flanked by the hovering Osprey above—roared out of the lot, heading aggressively toward the heavily fortified Embassy district.
Watching the convoy disappear behind the blast walls, Dominik let out a long breath. "They're really gone."
"Good riddance," Simon grunted, his voice softening slightly now that the outsiders were gone.
At this moment, Laura tugged on Dominik's sleeve. "Dom, where are we going to go? The guards at the gate made it pretty clear we aren't welcome in this rich zone."
Right on cue, the stern-faced Thai border soldier walked up to them, his hand resting on his rifle. "Contractors. The VIPs have been extracted. You are no longer authorized to remain in the Green Zone staging area. Return to the Civilian District immediately."
"Loud and clear," Dominik said, offering a tight smile. He turned to Simon. "Get in the truck. Let's go find a place to sleep."
After being escorted out of the Green Zone, the trio drove deep into the bustling, chaotic Civilian District of Bangkok. Since Laura's phone still had access to the local cellular network, they pulled over at a roadside diner to search the local real estate listings.
They needed a place that was secure, discreet, and comfortable. They found exactly what they were looking for: a modern, 400-square-meter, two-story villa located in a walled, gated community favored by expats and mid-level corporate managers.
The monthly rent was exorbitant—roughly $4,700 USD a month, payable in hard cash due to the collapsing banking system. Fortunately, Dominik and Simon had confiscated over $300,000 in Syndicate drug money. Funding was not an issue.
After witnessing the horrifying squalor of the refugee slums, Dominik had made a silent vow. He would ensure Laura never had to experience the poverty and danger they had endured as children in Hungary. He slammed down three months' rent in crisp hundred-dollar bills to a very eager landlord, and by mid-afternoon, they had the keys.
Once they had secured the perimeter of the villa and settled in, Dominik took Laura out to a still-functioning, high-end commercial district. He took her on an unapologetic shopping spree. He bought her new clothes, proper boots, and whatever comfort items she wanted. It was a cathartic release for both of them, a way to wash off the blood and terror of Mandalay.
As for Simon, he silently shadowed the siblings, his eyes constantly scanning the crowds for threats.
When it was time for Simon to shop, he ignored the designer stores. He headed straight for an outdoor surplus vendor, purchasing strictly utilitarian "gray man" clothing: moisture-wicking athletic shirts, reinforced cargo pants, lightweight hiking boots, and a few nondescript baseball caps to hide his face when he wasn't wearing the skull mask. He was preparing for the war that he knew was inevitably coming to this city.