Over the next month, Joshua’s reputation grew within military circles. His squad, nicknamed “Fortress” for their impenetrable tactics, achieved mission success rates that defied statistical probability. Joshua relied heavily on Martinez for day-to-day operations, and the two developed an almost telepathic understanding in the field.

  They also recruited Richard Dawson, a heavy weapons expert whose firepower had been sorely lacking in previous operations. The team became a seamless unit, with Joshua’s inexplicable tactical insights guiding their every move.

  Their newest mission brought them to a dense jungle environment in Central Africa. Local warlords had been terrorizing villages, and intelligence suggested they were holding women and children hostage. The mission brief was simple: eliminate the threat, rescue the hostages.

  “What’s the op this time?” Joshua asked, though as the words left his mouth, he experienced a strange doubling – as if he’d spoken these exact words before, in this exact briefing room.

  “Sir! Jungle warfare: A local African warlord is terrorizing the population. We have full support to go in however you see fit,” reported Martinez with precision.

  Joshua nodded, fighting off the disorienting sense of déjà vu. “Do we have eyes on their leader?”

  “We do, sir. Small overgrown canopy area in the jungle. The UAVs have marked the territory, but we can’t see past the tree lines,” Martinez said, pointing to satellite imagery.

  “Hostages?”

  “Women and children, sir,” stated Martinez, staring Joshua directly in his eyes. Something in his expression suggested he understood the personal weight this added to the mission.

  “I’ll go in alone first,” Joshua said, the plan forming in his mind with perfect clarity. “When I give the signal, come in and light up anything that moves, understand?”

  There was a time when Martinez would have argued against such a reckless tactic, but he’d seen the superhuman feats Joshua had accomplished. He answered quickly: “Understood, sir. We’ll be prepped. Get some sleep, wheels up at sunrise.”

  “Martinez!” called Joshua as his second-in-command turned to leave.

  The man turned. “Yeah, boss?”

  “Thanks, man,” Joshua said, throwing up two fingers in a peace sign. Something about the gesture felt significant, though he couldn’t say why.

  “Anytime, boss. The wife and kids say ‘thanks’ again for helping us out. The rest of the squad feels the same. Rest easy.”

  As Martinez left, Joshua remained in the briefing room, studying the satellite imagery of the jungle canopy. For a moment, the images seemed to shift before his eyes; the jungle transforming into a different landscape, another dense jungle with boulder flying towards him. He blinked, and the vision vanished.

  “What’s happening to me?” he whispered, rubbing his temples. The headaches were getting worse, always accompanied by these flashes of... something else. Another place. Another time.

  It was about 10 pm when Joshua jumped from the small plane. Falling through the night sky always felt amazing. Even from 5000 feet, he could see the canopy of trees below, a dark sea in the moonlight. They truly blotted out a significant portion of the landscape.

  As the wind buffeted his face, Joshua experienced a moment of perfect clarity. The jungle below, the stars above; it all seemed part of a grand design, a pattern he was only beginning to discern. He turned his head and glanced out at the endless ocean of stars.

  “This was how the world should be,” he thought to himself. “Quiet and full of wonder.”

  Yet beneath that thought lay another, darker sentiment: a conviction that humans had squandered this beauty, that they needed guidance, leadership…strength. The thought wasn’t entirely his own, but it resonated within him nonetheless.

  He tightened his concentration and steeled himself for the bloodshed to come. There would be another time for such thoughts. Now, he needed to focus.

  At about 1000 feet, he deployed his wingsuit and guided himself toward the upper branches of the canopy. He landed with a tumble and roll before coming to a controlled stop on a thick branch. This position gave him a perfect vantage point over the warlord’s camp below.

  This was an area most humans would never see. If you were to ever witness a jungle canopy, you’d discover more activity in the trees than on the ground. It’s a complete cacophony of sound, day and night. Most people feared the massive cluster of tree snakes and venomous spiders that made the canopy their home.

  Joshua relished the danger. The creatures seemed to study him as if uncertain whether he was predator or prey. A viper decided to test that theory but was met with a carbon steel knife through its skull before it could strike.

  The rest of the wildlife retreated. They sensed the presence of a more dangerous predator on the hunt.

  “Because of all the noise in the trees, they’d never expect to see me coming from above,” he had told Martinez during the briefing earlier. The strategy had formed in his mind in completeness, as if he’d executed similar plans countless times before.

  His abilities had been increasing exponentially over the past months. It wasn’t that he was bulletproof, more that he could feel the flow of threats and redirect them ever so slightly. His natural abilities seemed amplified to superhuman levels.

  He had always been in excellent physical condition. In his mid-thirties, he could outrun most new recruits. Now however, he rarely tired. The more he fought, the stronger he became, as if combat itself was feeding something within him.

  From his position in the canopy, Joshua assessed the camp below. The warlord had constructed a makeshift village under the tree line to evade aerial surveillance. A simple solution that often fooled even the most sophisticated technology.

  The guards were vigilant, constantly scanning the jungle perimeter but never looking up. This suggested that the warlord was both cautious and paranoid. It made approaching more challenging, but Joshua found himself enjoying the complexity of the problem.

  The compound was teeming with child soldiers in training while large, scarred men barked out orders. This always complicated the moral equation of openly attacking, as children were involved on both sides of the conflict; soldier and hostage.

  Joshua witnessed some of the local villagers being marched in at gunpoint. Meanwhile women flinched at each aggressive gesture; as the soldiers mocked and threatened them with violence.

  “What would be the best way to cause absolute chaos?” Joshua mused from his position.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  As he watched, a giant bird snatched up the dead viper he had just killed. The sight sparked a wicked idea.

  “Perfect,” he thought, a plan crystallizing in his mind.

  With expert precision, Joshua moved along the top of the area, cutting down branches that housed different species of wildlife. If anyone had been watching from outside, it would have looked like a ghost flitting from branch to branch.

  For an hour he meticulously targeted areas directly above guard positions and gathering spaces. His knowledge of the jungle ecosystem seemed to come from nowhere; he somehow instinctively knew which branches contained venomous creatures and which would create the most disruption when broken.

  At first, his activities created only subtle disturbances; the soft creak of branches, the rustle of leaves a few large vipers. A few soldiers lost it as a massive green mamba fell directly on one of their heads; attacking anything it could attach itself too. They fired blindly at the large snake and into the canopy area, fear taking hold.

  The warlord himself emerged from his tent, berating his men for wasting ammunition on wildlife.

  That’s when he executed the final phase of his plan. With precise strikes, he collapsed large sections of the already weakened areas and all hell broke loose. The effect was immediate and catastrophic.

  “Aaaagh! Nyoka, Nyoka!” they screamed in terror as any humans worst fear took hold.

  Poisonous spiders, frogs, vipers, bats and everything in between rained down from the canopy like deadly hail, creating unprecedented panic among the unprepared guerrillas. Gunfire erupted as battle-hardened warriors abandoned all discipline; firing wildly at the venomous creatures falling around them.

  Joshua stood atop the jungle canopy and spread his arms wide, surveying the chaos he unleashed. In that moment, power surged through him unlike anything he’d experienced before. It wasn’t just satisfaction at a successful plan; it was something deeper, more primal. A sense of right-ness… of becoming.

  “This is my battlefield,” he stated before diving into the fray, his face etched with a terrifying combination of focus and exhilaration.

  As the creatures of the upper jungle descended, they triggered a cascade of natural responses. The loud noises attracted predatory bats to the feeding ground, creating another layer of chaos. Smaller animals fled in all directions, adding to the confusion.

  In the midst of it all, Joshua stalked the warlord across the camp; watching as the frightened man retreated to the tent where the hostages were kept. Amidst the frenzy, someone knocked over a torch, and flames began to spread through the dry vegetation.

  Gunfire, smoke and violence filled the air. Joshua hardly needed stealth with the commotion that erupted. He suppressed a laugh at the elegant simplicity of his plan.

  He still needed to be cautious though; as a white American in an African village he would stand out immediately if spotted. Each movement was calculated and each step precise as he made his way toward the hostage tent.

  Joshua was now in his element. He felt that new familiar energy overtaking him; a sense of purpose and power that transcended his training. He felt important… chosen even.

  Before losing himself in the revelry of combat, Joshua focused on his primary objective. He would not let innocents suffer, and the warlord had committed atrocities that demanded retribution.

  As the chaos near the entrance intensified, the gunfire gradually ceased as ammunition ran out. Joshua tapped on his radio in Morse code, giving Fortress the go-ahead to move in. No response was necessary; he knew Martinez would handle the perimeter while he dealt with the warlord.

  With silent footsteps and perfect positioning, Joshua approached the hostage tent. He might as well have been invisible amid the chaos of crying and gunfire. Lifting the back flap slightly, he listened for movement inside.

  His enhanced hearing caught the warlord screaming into a radio for backup, receiving only static in response. Joshua’s tech specialist, Matthew, had jammed all communications in the area. The entire camp was effectively isolated, trapped with a predator they hadn’t even detected yet.

  Through the gap in the tent, Joshua saw the hostages kept in dirty, rusty cells along the wall. Towards the corner stood two beds with ominous stains, that told their own story of brutality. The sight triggered a cascade of memories; not his own, but vivid nonetheless.

  Visions of his alcoholic father slamming his mother’s head against the wall flashed through his mind and a surge of rage swept through him; both pure and clarifying.

  Joshua wasted no more time. There would be no more planning or strategy. No more stealth and subterfuge. Now he would become an executioner.

  Slipping under the tent flap in the back, he grabbed the warlord’s legs just above the ankles. With surgical precision, he dug his thumbs deeply into both tendons, destroying the orbs that allowed the man to stand. The warlord collapsed with a scream of agony and pain.

  At first, the man thought he had been bitten by a snake. Until his head jerked down; noticing a large white man staring up at him with absolute rage clouding his eyes.

  Joshua grabbed his belt and pulled him down to eye level. Scrambling for his gun, the warlord tried to fire at Joshua’s chest from point-blank range. The bullet somehow completely ricocheted, as if deflected by an invisible force.

  Joshua dragged him up by his collar as he stood; his ankles no longer able to hold his weight. He spoke in clear Swahili, though he had no conscious knowledge of the language: “Your reign of terror ends here.”

  The warlord’s eyes widened in shock, both at being addressed in his native tongue and at the impossible strength of the American.

  Joshua slammed him into the ground and began unleashing a barrage of punches, each one delivered with perfect force to maximize pain while delaying death. His hands became slick with the warlord’s blood, yet he continued the assault with mechanical precision. Only when all movement ceased did he stop; looking down at what remained of the man who had terrorized so many.

  Joshua surveyed the tent, taking in the full horror of what had happened here. “Five,” he said in quiet horror, counting the remaining hostages. “Only five people left.”

  As he took in the scene completely, he understood why the back of the camp had few guards. They had disposed of anyone they no longer had use for and it had become a rancid dumping ground. The stench of death permeated the area.

  Walking over; he ripped the lock from the cage that held the two women and three children. He lifted his hands to show he meant no harm, putting his finger to his lips, the universal signal for silence. They nodded in understanding. Even without words, humans could communicate their most basic needs and intentions.

  Joshua raised his hand to his lips, signaling the need for silence as he surveyed the tent interior. The women and children huddled against the far wall nodded their understanding, their eyes wide with fearful hope. He recognized their next silent question without them needing to speak, were there others? Was help coming?

  He gave a single, confident nod. Yes. Help was coming.

  As if summoned by his thoughts, shadows moved across the tent entrance. Martinez slipped inside first, rifle at the ready, his eyes quickly scanning for threats. Behind him came Brooks and Williams, their faces grim but professional as they secured the perimeter. The rest of Fortress team moved with practiced efficiency; Ramirez checking the hostages for injuries while Cortez watched the rear exit.

  In the compound beyond the tent, the remaining insurgents were being systematically neutralized. Joshua could hear the precision of his team’s movements; three silenced shots in rapid succession, a brief struggle quickly silenced, then the soft crackle of their comms as they reported sectors clear.

  The hostages watched this coordinated dance of trained soldiers with something approaching awe, their expressions shifting from terror to cautious relief. One small boy, no more than six, stared at Joshua with undisguised hero worship, his tiny frame straightening with newfound courage.

  Through his earpiece, Joshua heard the final confirmation: “Compound secured. All hostiles neutralized.”

  “Is this all there is, boss?” asked Martinez, entering the tent. Behind him, other team members were neutralizing the last pockets of resistance in the camp. The operation had become a decisive victory.

  “Make sure they get back safely,” was all Joshua could say, his voice tight with emotion.

  “Understood,” said Martinez, saluting and guiding the hostages toward safety.

  Alone in the tent, Joshua stared down at his blood-covered hands. The rage that had powered him had already started to recede, leaving behind a strange clarity. Over and over, a phrase repeated in his mind, though he didn’t understand its significance or origin.

  “Humanity is weak.” he said under his breath.

  As he spoke the words, the energy in his body seemed to respond, surging through him like electricity. It was almost terrifying in its intensity yet intoxicating in its promise.

  He steeled himself as the squad approached. They didn’t need to see his internal struggle; the battle between the man he had been and whatever he was becoming.

  They hadn’t been able to save everyone, but they had eliminated a genuine threat before it could spread further. Joshua would ensure his squad celebrated their victory well tonight. They deserved that much.

  As they began extraction from the camp Joshua paused, catching his reflection in a pool of water. For an instant, he saw himself in gleaming white armor, a massive sword strapped to his back. Behind this armored version of himself stood a figure shrouded in light; waiting…watching.

  The vision faded, leaving only Joshua’s blood-spattered face staring back at him. But the message lingered, a whisper from another life:

  Change is coming, by my hand.