A Proposal

I

Jung woke up with his body hanging in the car. He looked left and right; he was in an overturned car. The paramedic was gone. Only the person's seatbelt was hanging from the car.

He saw his camera broken. The journalist panicked when he realised the image was now gone. He inspected his shirt pocket; Jung found the bullet still in the plastic. He let out a relieved sigh, knowing the bullet was still there and safe with him.

Jung unbuckled his seatbelt and fell into the car. Jung looked around at where people had gone in his uncomfortable crumpled position. In the backseat was the body of the soldier whose hand separated. They left him to die.

Looking out the window, Jung saw someone's feet approaching a figure. The figure was the paramedic. He was bleeding badly on his stomach. He held the wound and tried not to lose consciousness. Jung was terrified. He didn't know what had happened to the paramedic. He observed the tension outside. Jung watched as the paramedic's foot was stomped by the unknown assailant. Paramedic yowls in pain as his bone cracks, even Jung could hear it.

Jung tries to get out of the overturned car when he sees a pistol lying in the car. He spotted the weapon while panting from shock. His hands trembled as he picked up the pistol. The journalist looked at the pistol as the sweat dripped from his nose onto the gun.

He gripped the gun tightly. This time he will be ready for close-range violence.

He crawled out of the car and saw an armed Nagarian soldier. The soldier greeted Jung with his back facing him. Silently Jung stood up and approached the person from behind.

He examined the soldier's body. The man was wearing a utility belt that held his ammunitions and weapon, there he saw a knife. He wears a grey army helmet and a brown jacket with fur collars to keep him warm.

Jung released the air through his mouth and then took a deep breath. He held it.

He quickly took the soldier's knife. The soldier was startled when he felt something grab his gear. He turned around and saw Jung. The soldier pointed his rifle at the journalist. Jung slaps the rifle barrel away from his face. The soldier accidentally fires his assault rifle and broke the silence.

There was the sound of two shoes running to see what was going on behind the car. Before they came to look behind the overturned car, Jung revealed himself. He took the soldier captive.

Two soldiers stood there frozen to see their comrade being used as a meat shield. One soldier raised their rifle at Jung, and the other soldier raised their hand.

The soldier who raised their weapon was furious as they screamed in Nagarian. The other soldier was less angered.

"Put down your weapon!" Jung shouted to the soldier who was pointing the gun at him.

The shorter soldier talked with the angered comrade in their language. The hardened soldier still pointed the gun at Jung.

"I said, put down your weapons now!" Jung warned them once again.

The angered soldier didn't lower their weapon. Making the shorter one scream words out of her mouth. The two of them spoke as if arguing for a long time and it made Jung nervous. Jung didn't hesitate to push the blade close to the soldier's skin. The two Nagarian stopped arguing and has their attention to Jung.

"Please! Take the blade away from him," said the female Nagarian soldier.

"Not after he lowers his rifle!" Jung replied, pointing at the soldier with the tip of the blade.

Again, the two soldiers argued for several minutes. Tensions rising. Neither side has the will to give up. In the end, the Nagarian soldier gave up after the feline persuaded their partner to lower the gun. This time Jung has three captives, and one was on the edge of the blade.

II

"Now get out of here," Jung scolds.

"Not without my comrade," replied the soldier.

"Don't believe what they say, Jung! Bring the bullet to the capital!" said the paramedic.

The two soldiers faced the paramedic and then raised their eyebrows at him. The soldier who could speak Hellet took one step closer to the journalist.

"You are the journalist," said the girl behind her balaclava.

The paramedic regretted saying the word and immediately slapped his forehead.

Jung took a step away as the soldier approached.

"Get away from me. Back!" his voice shaken.

"There's no need to be afraid, journalist. I want to talk."

"One more step, I will stab him," Jung slid the dull side of the blade right on the sodlier's adam's apple.

The negotiating soldier immediately stopped closing in. It seemed that only one of them could speak Hellet.

"Do you have that bullet?" asked the Nagarian soldier. "I will not quarrel with you at all."

"Then let me and him out of here," Jung demanded.

"We can't let you two go. Perhaps we can make a deal."

"Don't!" warned the paramedic.

"A deal when your friend is at the tip of this blade?" Jung stroked his blade against the captive's neck. "Look what you did to him. You broke his bone. That wasn't nice, isn't it?" Jung pointed at the paramedic with his blade. "How about I cut open his neck!" Jung threatened with a trembling voice.

"No, don't!"

"What you did to him... To my friend!" Jung's voice suddenly roared. "You killed him... you killed my- I SAW YOUR ARMY ATTACKED THE CAMP!"

"Yes! We were wrong. Now please... let us make it right."

"And why would I let you do that? After the things you did?" Jung couldn't believe their words.

"We found him lying on a roadblock with a metal rod stuck in his stomach. We bandaged him, but that person needs treatment from a doctor."

On the sidelines of the conversation, the paramedic coughed in pain.

"Leave it alone, Jung. Go back to Hueyyad!" said the paramedic.

"Listen, journalist. We need you and your bullet," said the Nagarian soldier.

"For?"

"Confession, of course. I, myself, needed by the Nagarian army to uphold the law. I need your help to go with us to the Nagarian court to deliver justice. Don't you want justice?"

Jung felt that something was at play.

"Justice? It's a strange word to come from someone who committed war crimes. If you don't remember, you bombarded Harut without giving any declaration of war. Why should I believe in a criminal?"

"We've sent the formal declaration VIA telegraph on the sixth of December. Exactly eight in the morning in the Nagarian capital and the afternoon at one in the Red Coast. However, they delivered it two hours later to the president's ear for unknown reasons.

We indeed started bombing key strategic points near Harut. We didn't bomb the city, only the strategic points. There are a couple of targets within the city, but we only target them. And the telegraph problems are debatable. Does the war started when the telegraph receives it... or when the president and the government acknowledge it? People said that it's when they acknowledge, and it sounds sketchy if you ask me. A country delayed the inevitable?" the soldier shook their head. "The international law doesn't explain it clearly enough. And we're in the right.

But that day has already passed. And now we are in a conflict."

Jung stared at the ground, thinking for a moment to decide what he should do. The soldier waited, both of them were silent.

"How about this? We will help this man, in exchange you come with us," the soldier gave a proposal.

"What!? N…No!" the paramedic insisted on being helped. "Don't take it, Jung."

The journalist looked at him, wounded and bleeding to death.

"He is bleeding. His bones were broken from the car crash. I suggest you come with us," said the soldier.

"You crushed my bones. Do not twist it!"

"And you should get him some help," the Nagarian walks to the paramedic. "I'm the only one who can radio your army and save your life."

"Go to hell..." the paramedic was not interested.

"Your life is not up to you. But him," the Nagarian soldier turned and faced Jung. "So... what is it going to be?"

Jung thought about it for a minute. He looked at the paramedic who was dying. Jung could save him and have his revenge for Jonathan. The journalist has decided.

Jung releases the soldier he took captive and drops the blade he was holding. He approached the paramedic laying on the ground bleeding.

"Be strong. Help will come," Jung said to comfort the man.

Paramedic's eyes opened wide. He couldn't utter any more words.

The Nagarian soldier turned on a radio and summoned a Hellsumer medical squad with it. The Nagarian threw the radio to the paramedic and left him there.

Paramedic regretted the decision. He tried to throw a rock at the Nagarian soldier. The soldier ignored it and brought Jung to a vehicle they were using.

The vehicle was nearly identical to the vehicle that pursued him. But this time Jung did not see a single bullet mark.

He got into the car in the back seat right next to the soldier he spoke with. He saw the soldier who was looking at Jung.

"He will survive, and you will get justice," the soldier reassured the paramedic's safety.

The car drove back towards Harut, leaving the paramedic alone. Jung could see a flash of lightning appear in the night for a second, leaving a roaring sound in the night. The lightning bolt in the distance illuminated the world. He saw light for a moment, then darkness again.

III

Inside the car, the soldiers opened their balaclavas. The driver turned the heater on so they could still warm themselves. The soldier in front of Jung was a young man in his early twenties. Dark hair, tanned skin, with a little moustache.

The other soldier that didn't speak his language was the muscle of the squad. He has a scar on his eyebrow. He was older than Jung. Probably in his forties. His hair was short, and he had lightly tanned skin.

The soldier who sat next to him understood Hellet, the female Nagarian. She has a well-built body, a typical Nagarian soldier. Her hair was short and black, barely touching her shoulders.

All of them have quite slanted eyes.

"We haven't introduced ourselves, friend," she greeted the journalist. "My name is Tika. On the steering wheel, there is Gralda. And the last one is Shaska."

The woman leaned back in her seat and offered you a bottle of water. She tilts her head.

"It isn't a soda-like Kanon, but at least it's good, right?"

"Sure. Thanks."

"No problem."

Jung drank the water until it was empty. When she saw how thirsty he was, the female soldier offered another one to him. But then she inspected Jung's wrist.

"What are you doing?" the journalist took his hand away from her.

"You wear the newest watch from Tek-Tus? That's pretty neat. What's new with the watch?"

"And I thought you Nagarians hate anything that we made."

"That's difficult to answer. I mean, there's up and down. Some buy, and some don't. And what about me? I'll probably buy that watch if it weren't for the war."

"Are you that interested in Tek-Tus?

"I do. Quite a fan actually. The computers? Do you know those little things that could be placed on your desk? I want that," she paused. "Since I already told you our name. Can you tell me yours, sir?"

"It's Ignatius Jung."

"Then it's a pleasure knowing you, Mr Jung. I know this isn't a good time for us to get to know each other better, but it could be the last. So how about we talk for a little bit and pass the time in the process?"

"Okay then," he answered.

"Splendid! Now, do you have a question that you want to know?"

"Where are we going?"

"We're heading back to Harut. Back to my base."

"As a prisoner?"

"No. You're a citizen, not a P.O.W. The law clearly explained that no civilian will be a prisoner, a slave, or forced labour. The international law forbids it, and we practised it."

"What am I then?"

"You're… my guest. And I will treat a guest as it should be, with proper manners and treatment. We will not act like you're some people that should be hated because you're my enemy's countryman. You ask anything that you want."

The journalist pondered for a moment. He peeked at the female Nagarian who was drinking a bottle of water. He compared her with her squad. She was sure different.

"You know something? You sure don't sound like a soldier. I've reported soldiers and understood how they talk and react. You've been different. Is there something you could tell me about yourself? It looks like you're more social rather than physical," he keeps stuttering.

"And why is that?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

The Nagarian raised her left eyebrow and slightly raised her chin.

"What's with the personal question?" she was intrigued.

"You said I can ask anything? So far, the soldiers I interviewed or talked with are more physical when dealing with a problem. You could have taken me captive or killed my comrade back there. You solve problems with reasons and the words from your tongue."

She only stares at him. Jung took a deep breath when watching her eyes contact him.

"Nevermind the question. It's nothing to talk about."

"No!" she shuts his mouth. "Nagarian are not violent. Like me."

"With all respect. That's not true, and you know it. You are a Nagarian. Don't you love war?" Jung pointed at her.

"Love war? Me? A Nagarian?" she shook her head. "It's… not that simple."

"I understand," Jung answered in an agreeable voice.

"No, you don't, Mr Journalist. You don't even know who we truly are. People must embrace a certain level of our culture to fully understand. Nagarians are not soldiers. If all of us are soldiers, then there is no Two States. I was a lawyer before I volunteered in the corps.

Outsiders thought we have this warlike culture that's in our blood. But it's not always like that. Let me put it simply. The norm is this: We are a culture of people who has another view on war. That's why we nearly spent the last half a century in other conflicts indirectly. Even though the two of us have achieved freedom from the Irte, or the Tremmer as you would call them.

We are superstitious about war, and that's how one of the motors of our society works. To live, bid farewell, and die as a martyr. Through the lens of war. We see our achievement in life by the end of a rifle. I stopped being a lawyer years before the war started. Now I have a special job as the army law protector because of my background as a lawyer."

"What's a law protector?" Jung itched his head.

"It means that I solemnly will defend my country and the army I attend to, through law and order. Preventing soldiers to break the laws of war, or defending the army I'm assigned in the eyes of the world. I supervised the MP division of the sixth army I'm assigned to. Making sure soldiers did nothing foolish. And even if I can't shoot a gun anymore, perhaps I can fight on the round table. Words with words."

"Have you ever decided not to join the army?"

"It's not mandatory to be in the army, but the norm said that it is. We must be ready in case of war. Like back in fifty-five when we intervened in the war of two continents. We already knew that there was going to be one. If there's a war, there is a high chance we will be in it."

"Remind me again about the War of Two Continents?"

"I thought everyone knew about it. It has several names, 'The Nagaro-Irte War', or 'The War for Kopdtal Independence'."

"How did it go?"

"When you brought five thousand soldiers across the sea just to die in vain?

It was catastrophic. We sent two of our best generals to help the Kingdom of Kopdtal. Aiding their lack of skilful generals against their independence from the Tremmerian. We already planned a well-strategized campaign. A plan that could take the capital of the Tremmerian in two months.

But the naïve king of Kopdtal wouldn't agree with the generals. Then the army splits, and the king injures one of the generals. A fight broke out in the headquarters, and then Tremmerian mercenaries came.

We had artillery, machine guns, and air support. But they didn't know about a small army hiding behind the hill. The rest was a massacre."

"Is there a moment you ever dream to stop being a soldier in this war?"

"I never thought of that, even if I wanted this war to end. As I said, we are a nation of soldiers. We seek death in battle. We can conquer the world, or be a slave in it. I won't choose the latter. My people will protect our freedom, even die trying. And we congratulate the dead, we are that serious about death.

Because they're light in battle, and death. The one who brought light in the darkness. Now you know that I and my comrades are devoted to our duty. And we will stand there in battle as our last bullet exits the chamber."

"I'm glad you're being honest."

"Thank you. It's comforting to have a long conversation with a person you met an hour ago," she was being sarcastic. "I haven't talked this long with another person. Never knew it would be a Hellsumer," she put her hands on her forehead. "Now, since we are acquaintances, I have a couple of questions for you. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Do I need to answer them?"

"Yes. It's only fair for you to answer them. Since I answered yours."

Jung looked her straight in the eyes.

"What can you tell me about yourself, Jung? I think we should get to know each other more."

"I'm the only child in the family. I have a good life, nothing out of the ordinary. Just a typical Hellsum kid living his life. I grew up like others and went to college in media. Then after graduation, I went straight to work in HWN since 74. Nearly five years."

"Good stable job. I like it. And now for another question. Have you killed someone?"

"In self-defence."

"Meaning?"

"I destroyed a pursuing Nagarian vehicle."

"So that was you?" she hummed. "Another question then. Do you have any experience with the Scorch since the war started?"

"What's a 'Scorch'?

"It's a terrorist cell in Polnaiat, armed to the teeth. But lack the training of a real soldier. I heard ‌they comprise convicts and cartel members."

"When did this happen?"

"When you are in an urban war, and with civilians desperate for food in the middle of the battleground. Sometimes they rob or steal something for their survival. And when that civilian is a disguised cartel, it makes things worse for us to deal with them."

"I think that seems reasonable to steal. We don't know what they're dealing with. Perhaps starvation, or even worse. These kinds of situations will force the person to act a certain way. And I ask, what would you do if you were in their situation?"

"I don't want to think. All I want to do is to secure our logistics for the army."

"That's one way to see it, right."

"Nevermind that. One last question. When we meet the soldier that shot your friend, how should we treat him?"

Jung was silent. He clicked his tongue.

"He deserves to die, of course. After what they did to Jonathan. My friend."

"Well, killing him won't bring your friend back, will it? But I understand."

The car slowed down when they arrived at the camp.

IV

"Lop tibo," Gralda announced.

The car halted. Jung saw a big camp full of soldiers working on drills. The place was more active than Hellsum's HQ back in Harut.

The car engine turned off. They exited the car. Jung was on the outskirts of Harut, near the border of Duo Nagari and Hellsum. He saw armoured cars, tanks, helicopters, and motorcycles parked in their respective locations.

The old soldier, Gralda, carried his unconscious friend on his shoulder. He spoke a little with Tika before parting ways. On the other side, Tika was now escorting Jung to the camp. People seemed to stare at him. The journalist looks different from any other. They eyeballed the Jung, their fingers pointing at the war correspondent. Something was not right.

Tika already gave him a somewhat worrying stare. But she kept going and tries not to speak about anything. They stopped at a small building. It's not painted, and there are no windows. A thick steel door with a concrete wall. There stood a soldier. He gave a salute to Tika.

"Nuzza," the soldier said.

"Katangga," Tika replied with a tone of respect.

"Nyo usegir Hellsum ereker diharot?"

Tika didn't reply.

The soldier then opened the door. This was not a building. Jung realised it when entered the cold dark room with a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Below the light, there was a chair where Tika asked him to sit down.

The journalist looked at her in confusion about what was going on.

"Stay here. Do not go anywhere. Understand?"

Tika leaves him alone, closing the thick door shut. Jung could hear the door slam and the echoes move around the room. He sat there, waiting for something to happen.

Jung waited for ten minutes, then thirty, forty-five, an hour.

Then the door finally opened. He could hear someone behind it. Two soldiers stepped in with a rifle in their hands. They looked at Jung behind their masked helmet, which covered the entire face. The soldiers stood there, waiting for something... or someone.

A giant of a man walked in. The people in the room could feel the heavy step that made the ground tremble. He was wearing some kind of outfit made of metal, but you have seen nothing like it. When he entered the room, Tika followed him.

The soldiers took two steps back. The light couldn't touch them. Jung couldn't see them, but they could see him.

Their thermals are on, a red light in the shape of an eye staring from the dark.

The atmosphere became tense; the man approached Jung even closer.

"So, this is the man we've been looking for," he said.

His deep robot-like voice made it even more worrying, for he didn't know what lies behind the steel suit. His voice was nearly the same as the people who spoke on the old radio.

"Is your name…" he had his hand crossed. "Tika, ereker Jung apo Djung?"

"Jung, darda 'dj'," the female Nagarian replied.

"Okay. You are Jung, correct?"

"I- I am," the journalist's leg turned to noodles.

"Greetings, civilian. It's not that common for a civilian like you to meet a man like me. You probably think about what you are doing here. If you want to know what is about to happen, then listen closely. They say you've found a bullet from your friend's wound, claiming one of my soldiers shot him in Harut. Well, the truth is, we shot him."

Jung didn't even dare to speak against him.

"He was the one who shot your friend," the man pointed at the soldier who was standing in the darkness. "He is my trusted soldier."

The journalist gulped as the giant man circle his position.

"We found you on the highway with a group of Hellsumer soldiers. I'm not surprised they cower from a battle rather than fight in it. But you… Your reports are nothing but spectacular, thanks to sister Tika over here. You should be thankful to yourself and her. For if it's not because of her, you probably would end up six feet under."

"What do you want?"

He stopped right in front of him and faced Jung with his glowing eye lens.

"Listen carefully. I want you to give all the evidence you have. From what I know, it's a 7.62mm bullet from our assault rifle, the SS-77. And a camera…

We don't want only your evidence, but also your mouth. What does it mean? It means that you will shut your mouth and will speak none of this.

And for that, you will be sent to a private island off the Pila coast. A mansion on the beach, full service from the government. And anything else you want. It's a big offer that you cannot decline. You have wealth that no one could have. Now, what do you say? It's better than receiving a bullet."

"It's a generous offer, mister," Tika reassured Jung to take it.

"What if I decline?" he asked a question without looking at the person's eyes.

"Don't do this..." Tika said in the conversation's background.

"You will be dealt with. By the book, my book, Nagarian's book. It will be done swiftly, and gruesomely."

"Take the deal, mister. We don't want any bloodshed anymore, do we?" Tika said in the background with her hands crossed.

Jung faced the man while pushing his teeth together.

"You can easily silence me with the second option, yet you want me to accept the first one. Why?"

"Well, if you insist…"

Before the soldier was about to grab his gun, Tika grabbed his steel armoured hand and stopped him. The soldier grunts and sweeps away Tika's hand.

"But... it isn't a wise decision. Of course, the international community can't agree with such violence," he stared at Tika

Which she bravely stared back at. Then she looks at you worryingly. "Why don't you tell us, Nuzza. Why we can't 'silence' him?"

"If the Hellsumer knows about your death, then we are at a loss," she walks closer while the gigantic soldier walks back.

"What loss?"

"If they want us to prove you are alive. We must show your well-being. If not, I don't know what will happen."

Jung carefully weigh the options.

"I… I don't know what to say," the journalist pondered on the options.

"I know you're going to choose the right one," the female Nagarian has her trust in him.

Jung sat there for a minute.

"There is no other way around?"

Tika shook her head. Jung sighed.

"I choose to be spared. Alive and well," he hated his decision. "This is the only way, yes? Violence is not for me."

"Do not worry. That's the right choice, but…" the giant soldier re-approached Jung. "Don't be pretentious. This is not about being alive. The first time you fought my soldier, you were already playing high stakes and risked your life. And when we chased you leading to the car crash, you were already playing big right there. You blew up my soldiers, and I don't hate you for that. Instead, I'm impressed. The performance you've done so far is nothing but beyond the average civilian. But then again, does that mean you choose the safety of your life? No. You risked it. For how many? Two? Three? It doesn't matter. You really are one interesting Hellsumer, mister Jung," he scoffs. "I will be watching you. Now, send him away."

Two soldiers grabbed Jung by the hand and brought him out of the room. The three of them walked to an APC outside the building. The door was already open. There were seven people in the back. This IFV has tracks rather than wheels. On top of it, he saw a turret with a big mounted gun. Nagarian soldiers greeted Jung inside their transport vehicle. A soldier has his eyes glaring at him with hate. Jung looked away, even though he kept calling him.

The soldiers that were escorting him sat across his seat. Before the door closed, Jung saw a man. A young man stared at him for a few seconds before the door fully closed. He gave Jung a salute. When the vehicle moved, they left the military base with the other convoy.

Destination; unknown. Purpose? Seeking death.