Ultimate Choice System: I Became The Richest!

30  Saving Damsel in Distress

Noah lay on the ground, grimacing and clutching his side in an exaggerated display of pain, but the motorcycle seemed to have barely taken any damage. The man sneered, shaking his head.

"Oi, move your damn bicycle-wannabe motorcycle outta the way," he barked, his patience already thin. "We've got important business to handle, and you're in the way."

Noah, still on the ground, groaned dramatically as he slowly pushed himself to his feet. "Important business? You're the one who made me crash in the first place! That van of yours was going so slow, I couldn't react in time."

The man's face twisted into an ugly scowl. "Slow speed? You idiot, Your busted-up excuse for a bike can't even keep up with a snail, let alone us. You trying to scam us?"

Noah stood up fully now, dusting himself off but still wincing like he was in pain. "Scam? I don't care about your speed. All I know is, if I hadn't had to swerve, I wouldn't be in this mess! My bike's scratched up because of you guys, and I'm not moving an inch until you pay me $500 for the damage."

The man let out a string of curses, his eyes blazing. "$500? You gotta be outta your mind! We don't have time for this crap. Move, or I'll beat you senseless and throw you and your bike off the road myself!"

Noah crossed his arms, shaking his head stubbornly. "I'm not moving unless you pay me what I'm owed."

The argument escalated as Noah continued to raise his voice, refusing to budge from the front of the van. Inside, the leader of the group was growing increasingly frustrated. They were losing valuable time because of this idiot with his flimsy motorcycle. He sighed deeply, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he watched the commotion unfold through the windshield.

Realizing that Noah wasn't going to back down easily, the leader leaned toward the window, calling out to the man.

"Jack come here, let me talk to you." Hearing the leader, Jack got closer and leaned into the window.

"Hey, get him to come closer to the van. Tell him we'll pay him his damn $500. As soon as he's close, the others will grab him. They will hold him down, and you can move the bike. Then we're outta here."

The man grinned wickedly, nodding as he turned back to Noah. "Alright, alright," he said, his tone suddenly changing to something almost friendly. "You win. My boss says he'll give you the $500. Just come over to the van, and we'll sort it out."

Noah narrowed his eyes, still pretending to be pissed off, but inside his mind, everything was crystal clear. He could see the plan forming in the way the man's lips curled. The fake friendliness, the sudden change in tone—it was all too obvious. They were going to try to grab him.

But Noah didn't flinch. He just kept up his act, raising his voice even more. "I knew you guys would see reason! I'm not moving from here until I get my money."

The man approached Noah, a smug grin on his face as he gestured for him to come closer.

As Noah reluctantly walked closer to the van's door, the man standing beside him gave him a friendly nudge, his grin growing wider with each step.

"Come on, hurry up, get paid and scurry from here" the man urged, impatience oozing from his voice.

"Okay, okay" Noah responded.

When Noah was right in front of the van, the door slid open with a sudden, harsh screech. Inside, two men waited, their eyes cold and calculating. Without warning, they lunged, grabbing Noah by his arms, and trying to pull him into the van. He jerked back, his face filled with a convincing look of panic.

"H-Hey, what's going on?" Noah stammered, stepping back quickly as if genuinely scared. But before he could make any distance, the man behind him moved with surprising speed, grabbing Noah by the shoulders and shoving him forward, right into the clutches of the two men waiting in the van. Nôv(el)B\\jnn

"Gotcha, kid," one of the men sneered as they dragged him inside, their grips rough and merciless.

Thrown unceremoniously into the back of the van, Noah landed hard on the floor, his mind racing even as he kept up his terrified act. The door slammed shut behind him with a dull thud, sealing him in with the kidnappers.

"You should've just walked away," one of the men jeered, standing over Noah with a sadistic glint in his eye. "Now, you might not even survive, you little punk."

They were careless in their arrogance, clearly thinking they had complete dominance over the situation. But Noah's instincts told him not to make a move yet. The biggest threat was still the leader driving the van, and the man riding with him at the front. If either of them had a gun, things could escalate dangerously if he acted too soon.

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Another one chuckled darkly, leaning in closer. "Hehehe, thought you could play games with us, huh? You're in deep now, kid. Real deep."

Noah sat quietly beside Amelia, glancing at her briefly as the kidnappers tied his hands and forced him to sit next to her.

Her face was pale, eyes filled with a mixture of fear and confusion. She was bound tightly, her wrists raw from struggling. Her once-pristine dress was now wrinkled and stained, a far cry from the image of elegance she had earlier.

Noah, though playing the role of a terrified victim, was far from helpless. His heart raced, but it wasn't fear that consumed him—it was anticipation. As the men tightened the ropes around his wrists, Noah didn't resist, allowing them to believe they had full control. His mind, however, was working at full speed.

He had scanned the two men who grabbed him earlier and noticed no visible firearms. Knives maybe, but that wasn't his immediate concern.

They were careless in their arrogance, clearly thinking they had complete dominance over the situation. But Noah's instincts told him not to make a move yet. The biggest threat was still the leader driving the van, and the man riding with him at the front. If either of them had a gun, things could escalate dangerously if he acted too soon.

The van jolted as the engine roared back to life. The man who had moved the motorcycle hopped in, slamming the door shut, and they were on their way again, speeding down the deserted road.

"Basic Soldier-King Skill," surged in his mind, offering him strategies and techniques that his body was carved with.

Every second of inaction now was building towards something—waiting for the right moment to strike.

His eyes flicked to Amelia again. She looked at him, a small, pleading glance, as if silently begging for help. He gave her a reassuring nod, his expression still filled with mock fear, but his gaze telling a different story.

Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!

Creation is hard, cheer me up!

Risaliyah