Crossover Anime: The Heroine is in Trouble? I Take Advantage of the Situation

XE Corporation—an internationally renowned private military contractor known for its efficiency, ruthlessness, and unusually close relationship with the Pentagon.

Its regional manager, Leica, was listlessly dealing with a mountain of routine tasks.

He had just signed a contract to provide armed protection for an exploration team of an oil giant, and rejected a request from a warlord in a small African country to buy second-hand armored vehicles.

At that moment, his assistant knocked on the door and came in, handing over a visitor request.

"Boss, I have an appointment this afternoon. The client is from Japan and hopes to discuss a business deal with you in person."

"Japan?"

Leica raised an eyebrow, looking helpless. "Those wealthy businessmen going to discuss business again? Tell them to wait in the meeting room. I'll go after I finish what I'm doing."

In his view, these Eastern clients from peaceful countries simply wanted to hire a few retired soldiers as bodyguards to make a good impression at their yacht parties. The business wasn't big, but it was full of trouble.

At 3 p.m., Leica finished her work and went into the meeting room.

However, the scene before him made him pause slightly.

The people sitting in the reception room were not the well-dressed, obsequious Japanese businessmen he had imagined, but three robust and imposing Westerners.

The leader was a blond, blue-eyed man, about forty years old, with sharp eyes like an eagle and a ramrod-like posture. Even in civilian clothes, his military bearing, which emanated from his very bones, could not be concealed.

Behind him stood two companions, one as muscular as a bear and the other as sharp as a leopard, their arms crossed over their chests, standing silently like two statues ready to pounce and attack at any moment.

Leica's initial indifference dissipated slightly in an instant.

He subtly sized up the three men, a friendly smile spreading across his face, and said, "I'm Leica. I heard you have business to discuss?"

The blond man among the three was Jason, the former Navy SEAL commander codenamed "The Messenger," who was in charge of the operation sent by Parker.

He didn't waste any words and went straight to the point: "We have been commissioned by a client to hire XE Company as our guide and intermediary in West Africa."

"West Africa?" Leka frowned. "That's not exactly a tourist destination. What are you planning to do?"

“We will recover all the wreckage of NH915, which crashed two months ago, as well as the remains of all the victims on board,” Jason replied calmly.

Leica was stunned.

"Are you... sure?"

He looked at Jason in astonishment. "Recycle that pile of scrap metal and bones? Do you know whose territory that mountain area is now? Abdullah and his gang of mad dogs, along with two other factions eyeing the area, even the government forces don't dare to set foot there easily. Are you going... to send yourselves to their deaths?"

Jason didn't answer, but instead took out a thick document from his tactical backpack and pushed it in front of Lyca.

"This is our initial action plan."

Leica picked up the document with a puzzled look.

The first page features a high-resolution satellite map, clearly marking several alternative infiltration and withdrawal routes with red and blue lines. Following this are detailed timelines, logistical support plans, risk assessment reports… even including personality analyses and firepower configurations of the three local armed faction leaders.

Leica's eyebrows furrowed higher and higher.

He put down the documents and looked solemnly at the three people in front of him.

“It seems you’re serious,” he said in a low voice. “But my men aren’t cheap cannon fodder either.”

Let's talk about the price first.

Leica leaned back in his wide chair, lit a cigar, and said, “This level of mission is extremely risky… $100 million. And I must warn you, the three armed factions in West Africa are no pushovers. They have RPGs, mortars, and even a few outdated T-54 tanks. If a firefight breaks out during the operation, our men will do their best to cover you, but we cannot guarantee your safe return.”

He paused, then continued.

"More importantly, your people... ordinary people who haven't had battlefield training, once they enter that chaotic environment, they might lose control of their emotions upon hearing gunfire, becoming a burden to our team. At that point, whether they live or die will be up to God."

However, Jason simply looked at him calmly and then interrupted him.

“We know that area. We anticipate that the main threats we may face during the infiltration process include: improvised explosive devices (IEDs) on average every five kilometers, snipers entrenched in high positions, RPG ambushes that could be launched from the valleys at any time, and mobile patrols consisting of pickup trucks carrying heavy machine guns that move erratically between the three factions.”

Leica's smile froze.

This intelligence is very similar to the contents of his internal assessment report.

Jason ignored his surprise and continued in his emotionless tone:

"Therefore, we recommend adopting the standard QRF (Quick Reaction Force) configuration. Deploy two six-man squads, advancing under alternating cover using leapfrog tactics. At the same time, it is essential to ensure that at least one armed helicopter or attack aircraft can provide CAS (Close Air Support) throughout the entire operation."

“Our personnel are all retired from front-line special forces, possess rich combat experience, and can fully cooperate with your XE company's operational guidance without becoming a burden to anyone.”

QRF…Leapfrog…CAS…

These professional military terms, brimming with the smell of gunpowder, came from Jason's mouth.

Leica finally couldn't sit still any longer.

He abruptly sat up straight in his chair, staring intently at Jason. The greed and contempt on his face had vanished, replaced by a seriousness and wariness that came between two kindred spirits.

"Which military unit did you retire from? Or which company do you work for?"

Jason didn't answer his question directly, but instead took out a military-grade encrypted tablet, brought up an interface, and pushed it in front of Leica.

That was an offshore account at a Swiss bank.

The account balance column prominently displayed a series of astonishing numbers.

“The $500 million advance payment can be transferred to your designated account right now,” Jason said calmly. “Is that enough sincerity?”

Leica stared at the string of numbers on the tablet that was more convincing than any military resume, and his Adam's apple bobbed.

His facial muscles twitched, then he forced a smile that seemed to convey a sense of "sincere cooperation."

“Alright, my friend.” He straightened up and poured Jason a glass of whiskey. “Now, I’m 100% sure you’re serious. Let’s talk about the specifics of the operation.”

Leica had already decided to take the job, and he spoke slowly.

“My friends, although you are very professional and the money is sufficient, I still have to say that the best way to resolve this matter is not to force it.”

He deliberately described the situation as extremely complicated: "Abdullah is greedy, but also very suspicious. If we go in in a big way, it might provoke him and make him do something irrational."

"Mr. Leica."

Jason interrupted him again, this time with a sharp, piercing look in his eyes.

"Our boss's idea is to solve the problem in the fastest and most effective way."

He leaned forward slightly and said in a voice that only the two of them could hear:

“We know that your XE Corporation has close ties with the Pentagon’s arms procurement department. We also know that the USS Ronald Reagan carrier strike group of the U.S. Seventh Fleet is currently on standby in the Persian Gulf.”

Leica's pupils suddenly contracted.

This is already a top secret in their company!

Jason seemed oblivious to his shock and continued in that calm tone, saying things that sent chills down his spine even further.

"As far as I know, many of the precision-guided bombs carried by the F-16 fighter jets deployed in this area are nearing their expiration date. Rather than sending them back for destruction and incurring a large disposal fee, they would be more eager to find a place to conduct a 'live-fire exercise,' clearing out inventory, increasing their budget, and making some extra money for themselves, wouldn't they?"

He looked up and stared directly into Lyca's eyes.

“This is how everyone plays outside of the established order, isn’t it, Mr. Leica?”

Leica was completely stunned.

The other party not only had a thorough understanding of the military situation in the region, but also knew the unspoken rules of the US military's operations, its arms inventory, and even the decision-making logic of its top leaders!

This is not an intelligence capability that ordinary people possess!

Leica looked into Jason's calm, unwavering blue eyes and fell silent.

“Okay…” He took a deep breath and squeezed out a few words through gritted teeth, “$300 million, including air support and the transport of the wreckage and its remains. This is the best price.”

“Sure,” Jason agreed with a smile.

This is indeed a very good price.

……

Once the negotiations concluded, the entire military base began operating efficiently.

Jason's team quickly joined forces with XE Corporation's most elite action group to begin equipment preparation and final tactical simulations.

Half an hour later, a gray C-130 Hercules military transport plane took off from the base's runway with a huge roar and disappeared into the dim twilight.

Inside the cabin, fully armed soldiers were conducting final weapons checks, the atmosphere heavy and somber.

Hundreds of kilometers away, a convoy of mine-resistant ambush protected vehicles and armed pickup trucks silently drove out of another secret outpost, like ghosts in the night, speeding toward that chaotic land forgotten by the world.

Sitting in the turbulent cabin, Jason sent his first progress report to Seiji Fujiwara in Tokyo via encrypted satellite communication equipment:

"'Messenger' calling 'Boss,' 'Package' is on its way. Expected arrival at the outskirts of the target area in 12 hours. Over."

……

……

Meanwhile, deep in the mountains of West Africa.

Inside Abdullah's camp, the campfire was burning brightly.

He and the leaders of two other factions were sitting together, gulping down smuggled whiskey and gnawing on a whole roasted lamb, their faces beaming with greedy and arrogant smiles.

"One hundred million dollars! Hahaha!" Abdullah raised his glass and roared excitedly, "With this money, we can buy the latest anti-aircraft missiles! Then, not even American drones will be able to fly over our heads!"

“That’s right! Then we will be the true kings here!” another leader chimed in.

They have jointly issued a statement demanding that the Japanese government pay $100 million in "humanitarian expenses" as a condition for the return of the aircraft wreckage.

In their view, the money was already theirs.

Their men, the militants carrying AK47s, were excitedly discussing what new weapons they would buy after receiving the money, or whether they would go to a neighboring country to buy a few beautiful wives.

However, what they received was not a bank deposit notification.

The following day, the Japanese government issued a brief but strong statement through international media: "The Japanese government will never engage in any form of negotiation with terrorists."

When the news came, the routine appeals from the United Nations and the official silence from the United States and European countries seemed to mock their naivety.

Abdullah watched the news on satellite TV and angrily smashed his wine glass on the ground.

"Damn it! These damned Japanese!" he roared furiously, his face contorted with rage. "Do they think we're joking?! They dare call us terrorists?!"

The leaders of the three factions held another emergency meeting, each one burning with rage.

"You're not going to pay, huh? Then don't blame us for being impolite!"

"Burn it! Burn all that junk and skeletons! Let's see how they talk back then!"

Abdullah's deputy, who had only a few years of formal education, offered an even more insidious suggestion: "Boss, we can't just burn them. We should threaten to burn them, then film the process and send it to the media worldwide!"

"Great idea!" Abdullah slapped his thigh.

Soon, a group of armed men carrying cameras rushed to the valley where the plane wreckage was stored.

They placed gasoline drums next to the wreckage, brandished AK47s, and shouted at the camera in the most arrogant language, threatening the Japanese government that if they did not see money within 72 hours, they would set everything on fire.

They even obtained photos of anxiously waiting relatives of the victims through bribery, and posted them on social media with the caption: "People abandoned by their own country."

This series of actions quickly attracted the attention of international media. Various news headlines began to appear, such as "Humanitarian Crisis," "Government Indifference," and "The Last 72 Hours."

Seeing his "masterpiece" making headlines on major news websites, Abdullah said to the other two leaders:

"I refuse to believe they can withstand the pressure from Western public opinion!"

……

……

Tokyo, Japan.

Late at night, only a dim desk lamp was lit in the study of the Toyokawa family.

Toyokawa Sadaharu stood alone, watching the huge screen on the wall, which was broadcasting the evening news about the situation in Area A.

The footage clearly shows militants waving AK47s and threatening the Japanese government.

He shook his head slightly, picked up the teacup beside him, and took a small sip.

As a top businessman who has spent most of his life navigating the bloody jungle of capital, every pore of Toyokawa Sadaharu is permeated with the cold logic of "cost" and "benefit".

"Men are ultimately realistic. That guy, though he's willing to spend money on women, is definitely not a fool who'll be blinded by emotions. It seems this matter will ultimately fizzle out."

……

……

In the living room of the Wakaba family, during their casual chat after dinner.

As Senmina watched Abdullah's arrogant face on the television news, she sighed to her husband, "Those militants are getting more and more arrogant."