Entertainment: Starting as a Succubus, Taking Hollywood by Storm

After borrowing that hot water that day, Satan found excuses to chat with the female lieutenant colonel every day.

She hadn't expected this stern-looking middle-aged man to be so witty, and he even spoke Arabic. She knew some English too, so their conversations flowed smoothly.

Before long, they were on friendly terms.

"No, no, no—His Excellency Gaddafi isn't the hot-tempered tyrant the outside world paints him as," she said. "On the contrary, he's incredibly kind and approachable. We call him 'Little Daddy.' Our relationship with him is more like father and daughters. The Western media's smears are just that—slander. Only those with filthy minds see filth everywhere."

Lieutenant Colonel Jalina Khalani was lively and vibrant, after all, only 24—prime time for youthful energy.

Satan felt a pang of regret. In the U.S., a girl like her would be living her best life, especially with her beauty drawing suitors left and right. But here she was, entangled in a brutal war.

What Satan didn't know was Jalina's tragic fate. In the original timeline, after rebels overran Tripoli, Gaddafi fled under threat. Not wanting his loyal female bodyguards to die with him, he dismissed them. Most left, but Jalina and three others stayed to protect him.

During the escape, Jalina, an expert marksman, killed 11 pursuers, becoming a prime target for the rebels.

But she was captured en route. Dubbed the "Golden Doll" for her stunning looks, her end was horrific.

Imagine a beauty like that in rebel hands. After three days of unimaginable torment and humiliation, Jalina was impaled through the vagina with a wooden stick, dying from internal injuries.

According to the old man who later found her body, it was a gruesome sight: teeth pulled out, thumbs crushed, wounds everywhere, arms twisted unnaturally, her front bearing signs of savage rape, the rest too horrific to describe.

Jalina, oblivious to her future, chatted on.

Satan, equally unaware, just wanted useful intel from her. He dusted off his long-dormant flirting skills.

…

August 18 arrived.

Satan, making his usual visit, noticed Jalina seemed off—distracted, zoning out mid-conversation.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

As Satan pondered how to probe gently, Jalina suddenly said, "Sir, please return to your post. And I won't be here the day after tomorrow."

She said no more.

Back at his position, Satan resumed his rounds as if nothing happened. Only at evening rest did he summon his squad leaders. "From now on, someone's on watch every night, eyes on that small building. Report anything unusual to me immediately."

"What'd you find?" Ram asked curiously.

"Gaddafi might run—for the day after tomorrow," Satan said coldly, inwardly apologizing to Jalina.

He knew she'd warned him deliberately, urging him to flee the barracks that day. But he planned to capture Gaddafi instead. Maybe handing him to the boss is better than the rebels. I'll beg for his life.

That way, Jalina won't have to die.

The day came quickly.

Under cover of night, the gunfire ceased. In the barracks, only sentries and perimeter guards remained; other government soldiers and mercenaries rested in barracks or tents.

A convoy slipped in silently, lights off, drivers using night-vision gear.

Satan was roused. "Convoy? How many vehicles?"

"Over thirty."

"Haha, he's bolting. Quietly wake the others. No noise."

"Got it."

Satan then used his satellite phone. "Gordon, Gaddafi's making a move. We're going in…"

…

Soon, his men silently filtered into positions, indistinguishable from daytime routine.

Except now, they faced the small building.

Its eastern gate swung open. Trucks, SUVs, armored cars—even APCs—rolled in.

Seeing over thirty vehicles enter that modest building, Satan realized: Underground tunnel. Massive one.

With Tripoli surrounded, Gaddafi staying in the barracks made sense—he had an escape route to the city's outskirts.

Satan wasn't alone; his squad leaders saw it too.

"What now, boss? Hit them?" Ram asked.

"Wait," Satan said. "Those trucks are loading something. Rumor has it Gaddafi's hoarding uranium. They outnumber us, and these are his elite guards—not the usual rabble."

Ram pressed, "How long? What if Gaddafi bails before they're loaded? Survival first."

Satan hesitated, then decided: "Half an hour. Then we move."

Half an hour later.

"Form ten combat squads, spread out in skirmish formation. Big Dog, your machine gun team leads."

Satan signaled the order.

Five-man squads slipped from their positions, rifles ready, crouching low, advancing stealthily toward the open gate.

No guards, no firefight.

Satan exhaled.

Then Ram's hushed exclamation: "Fuck, that's huge!"

They'd entered a vast, empty space—about 200 square meters.

That wasn't the shock. To the right yawned a massive tunnel entrance, dimly lit by fluorescent strips, plunging deep underground.