WHOOSH—!!
Blinding white light pierced the smoky battlefield, cutting through the lingering dust like a sunrise breaking the horizon. It was pure and fierce, radiating power and hope.
From across the street, Mrs. Wells gasped, her eyes widening with disbelief. "That... that's Jack's voice!" she whispered.
As the haze cleared, the outline of a figure emerged—armored head-to-toe in a high-tech battlesuit.
Jack had returned.
The [Source Plan: Thunder] armor fully activated, sleek with chrome plating and humming with soft pulses of energy. A sharp V-shaped mask obscured his face, glowing red lines running across the edges. He looked like a ghost from the future, reborn through light and fire.
Twin pistols spun effortlessly in his hands, as if they belonged there. Every motion oozed precision.
"Jack!" Mrs. Wells cried out, dropping to her knees, hands clasped tightly in prayer. "God bless... nothing happened to Jack!"
The battlefield changed instantly.
Vanodia Gang:
"Holy hell, is that really Jack?!"
"When did he get that gear?!"
"Damn, Jack looks like a walking death machine!"
Cheers erupted from the Vanodia side. They saw their underdog rise like a phoenix, and it lit a fire in their hearts.
Sixth Street Gang:
"What the hell is that suit?!"
"That ain't biotech—that's black market military tech, man!"
"How the f* did the Vanodia Gang get their hands on something like that?!**"
Even Anilikra, still a raging mutated beast from the serum, was caught off guard. Jack had already shot several holes through him, but the hulking monster pushed forward, seemingly immune to pain.
With a snarl, Anilikra lunged, massive claws slicing through the air.
But Jack was gone.
In an instant, he used his [Cold Pursuit] skill—light flared under his boots, and he vanished, reappearing across the rooftop in a blink.
BOOM!!
Anilikra's claw hit only concrete, sending a spray of debris into the air.
"Too slow," Jack muttered.
Raising his pistols, he whispered, "[Holy Bullets]."
Twin cross-shaped blasts of light burst from the barrels. The impact knocked Anilikra back several steps, staggering him.
Jack moved fast—a blur of silver light, he darted forward, climbed the beast's torso, and pointed both pistols at point-blank range.
"Let me help you die faster. [Transparent Holy Light]—!!"
ZAP-ZAP!
Two concentrated beams of energy shot out, striking Anilikra's knees.
THUMP—!!
The giant's legs gave out—cut clean off.
He collapsed, roaring in agony, blood and drool mixing on the floor.
Jack stepped up calmly. "Time to finish it."
BANG—!!
A single shot blew through Anilikra's skull. His head exploded like a rotten melon, sending gore flying.
The beast was dead.
Silence fell.
Both gangs stared in stunned disbelief.
Sixth Street Gang:
"Anilikra… he's gone? Just like that?!"
"The boss spent a fortune on that serum! How did he die so fast?!"
Kliman, their leader, was frozen. His strongest weapon—gone in seconds.
Vanodia Gang:
"Jack just killed a fing monster. With two pistols.*"
"That was some military-level execution. Jack's our damn savior!"
Even Ogul was speechless. He touched his own cheek, as if to make sure he wasn't dreaming.
Jack turned.
His glowing visor scanned the battlefield, then stopped on the group of terrified Sixth Street Gang survivors.
He stepped forward.
His voice echoed with authority. "Now, shall we sit down and talk like civilized people?"
Kliman's eyes burned with rage.
If he backed down now, Sixth Street would lose their grip over Heywood—forever.
"No! Never!!" he roared, foam at his lips. "We haven't lost yet!!"
From a pouch on his belt, he pulled out a red serum vial—the last resort.
"Haha... I never thought I'd have to use this," he cackled. "But if I'm going down, I'm taking you with me!"
He stabbed the needle into his arm.
Instantly, his veins turned black, pulsing up through his skin like spreading corruption.
His muscles swelled, his bones cracked, and his body tore through his clothes.
In seconds, Kliman was a monster—half-human, half-beast. His eyes glowed white, his fangs jutted out, and drool spilled from his oversized jaw.
He let out a guttural, "ROOOAAARR—!!"
Even his own gang panicked.
"Boss turned into a monster too?!"
"RUN!! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!"
They backed away in horror, knowing what came next. Anyone in the blast radius was fair game.
Across the street, the Vanodia Gang members were equally stunned.
"Jack, fall back!! That thing's even bigger than the last one!"
"We'll cover you! Don't die on us!!"
But Jack stood tall.
His eyes flashed behind the visor.
"[Baptism of the Holy Spear]—!!"
He lifted both pistols and fired a barrage of silver bullets, each one glowing with divine light.
WHOOSH—WHOOSH—WHOOSH—!!
The shots landed square on Kliman's head, turning it into a shredded hornet's nest.
BOOM—!!
The beast dropped like a fallen statue, crashing hard. Even headless, its limbs twitched—refusing to die.
Jack didn't flinch.
DA-DA-DA-DA—!!
More bullets.
More flames.
Until Kliman's body was nothing but pulp.
Smoke drifted from Jack's twin barrels as he exhaled.
"So... are you ready to talk now?"
The remaining Sixth Street Gang members were white as ghosts.
"Yes! Please! We'll do anything!"
"Our turf is yours! Just don't kill us!"
"Please... we surrender! We give up!!"
Heywood had changed hands.
Sixth Street Gang was no more.
Jack removed his helmet, the Source Project armor fading in waves of light. His face was calm, unreadable.
He turned to the Vanodia Gang and raised a hand. "It's done. Come on over."
The gang erupted in cheers.
They surged across the block, past the cowering Sixth Street thugs, straight to Jack.
"Yo, Jack, where did that armor go?!"
"How did you survive all that without a scratch?!"
"You're like a cybernetic angel, man!"
Jack said nothing, only nodded with a tired smile.
From a distance, Mrs. Wells watched, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Thank you… thank you, whoever's out there watching over him…"
She didn't run to hug him, though.
Instead, she turned and headed back to her car.
The Wild Wolf Bar needed prepping. Her boy was coming home—and he was bringing an army with him.
That night, the bar was glowing with neon and celebration.
Music. Beer. Laughter.
Jack, Ogul, Arad—they all arrived together, triumphant.
"Hey, Mrs. Wells!" Ogul shouted. "We brought him back in one piece!"
Jack rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, mom, I didn't break anything, promise."
Mrs. Wells just smiled and hugged him tight. "Sit. Eat. No one leaves sober tonight."
And so, for one night in Heywood, under flickering lights and
the smell of fried food and cheap whiskey…
The city exhaled.
Jack had returned.
The war was over.
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