Entertainment: Starting as a Succubus, Taking Hollywood by Storm

The village's main structures were simple mud-and-wood homes. Gaddafi hadn't fortified his secret base to avoid suspicion, but these flimsy buildings couldn't withstand mortars, rockets, or machine-gun fire.

The rebels and mercenaries, lulled into believing "the war is over," were mentally unprepared. Their nerves, relaxed after victory, left them defenseless against the sudden, ferocious assault. Effective resistance, let alone a counterattack, was impossible.

Ram and Big Dog swiftly seized the village's outer buildings. Big Dog led his men deeper, while Ram and his snipers and marksmen took high ground—rooftops and balconies—using thermal scopes to pick off enemies with precision. The village, barely a hundred meters across, was fully within their range.

Big Dog, caught up in the thrill, belted out Martin's song Unstoppable. Despite his rough appearance, his voice was bold and on-key. Amid his impromptu soundtrack, explosions and gunfire roared, mowing down rebels and mercenaries—exposed or not—most too slow to even grab their weapons.

Mortar and rocket crews moved in, targeting any building that returned fire, neutralizing it instantly. The rebels couldn't muster a meaningful response.

Soon, the enemy collapsed. The mercenaries, there for money, fled rather than die against an unstoppable foe. The rebels, considered "elite" only in Libya's fractured military landscape, were mere rabble before Satan, Big Dog, and Ram's seasoned fighters.

Both assault teams advanced smoothly to the village center, where a single walled compound stood.

"Blow it open!" Big Dog shouted, pointing at the iron gate.

Two rockets obliterated it.

The courtyard was packed with trucks.

Satan halted Big Dog's trigger-happy advance. To Frey: "Get the trucks out." To Ram: "Use thermal imaging. Find anyone moving inside and take them out."

"Uh, what about Gaddafi?" Ram asked.

"Who's Gaddafi?" Satan replied coldly.

Moments later, the building was cleared.

The rebel leader had tried to force Gaddafi to flee, but a stray bullet—unknown from where—pierced both, killing them instantly.

Satan approached the bodies, noting Gaddafi's wound. He grabbed the rebel leader's gun, fired into the wound, then added a few more shots to Gaddafi's corpse. "In the fight, Gaddafi was killed by the rebel leader. Nothing to do with us. Even if they trace it, we've got a story."

"Three-man teams, sweep the village. No survivors."

The mercenaries fanned out in trios. Sporadic gunfire echoed.

Despite the victory, Satan frowned.

Ram nudged him. "Boss, worried about that girl?"

Satan glared. "Shut it. I'm just thinking about getting these trucks back."

"Hah, sure. The boss already set up an escape route—Gaddafi's private port. Our ship's waiting." Ram smirked. "Those extra shots on Gaddafi? Not for NATO or the rebels. We kill and leave—who'd know? Bet it was for that girl to see."

"What nonsense!" Satan snapped, turning to chew out Ram.

Frey burst in. "Boss, we found Jaleena Khalaf Al-Naas. She's alive."

Satan's stern face broke into relief, then he tried to mask it, failing. Ram burst out laughing.

"Damn it, what's so funny?" Satan barked, ignoring Ram and turning to Frey. "Where is she?"

"Next building over," Frey said.

Satan bolted.

Ram, watching him go, chuckled. "Boss is in love. Wonder if his old gear still works."

Frey sneered. "I'll tell Satan you said that."

"No way!"

"Unless you give me half that top-shelf cigar box the boss gave you."

"You snake!"

"Deal or no deal?"

Ram hesitated, then sighed. "Half."

"Done."

As Ram and Frey bantered, Satan reached Jaleena.

"You? How'd you find us?" she asked.

"Mutassim told us," Satan lied smoothly. Mutassim had died heroically the day before, so no one could call his bluff.

Jaleena didn't doubt him; Mutassim had sent Satan's team to Aziziya Barracks. Then she asked, "What about Mr. Gaddafi? Is he alive?"

Satan's face darkened. "Sorry, we were too late. The rebel officer shot him."

Tears welled in Jaleena's eyes.

Elsewhere, Ram briefed a group. "Listen up, only you were there. Gaddafi was killed by the rebel leader's gun. Got it?"

…

At dawn, after helping Jaleena bury Gaddafi and her three female guard comrades, Satan's team sped off in the trucks.

An hour later, a few ragged rebels crept into the village. Confirming Satan's team was gone, they fled.

Soon, a larger group—last night's surviving rebels and mercenaries—returned. They dug up Gaddafi's body.

A bearded man spoke. "Remember, we weren't defeated. Our brothers died attacking Gaddafi's stronghold. We killed him. We won, just with heavy losses."

To the two mercenary leaders: "Your pay's secure. I'll honor the original leader's deal, but keep your men quiet, understand?"

The leaders exchanged glances. One shrugged. "Sure. We don't want a loss on our record either."