The power rifle embedded in Royce's exosuit glowed with blistering heat. In the dimly lit factory, the light was almost blinding. In response, Karl spun Kenshin in his hand before gripping it firmly.
There was no need for a signal to begin the fight. The moment that glow intensified, Kenshin fired.
Four bullets left the barrel in a flash—each one aimed directly at Royce's body inside the exosuit.
Royce had undergone a decent amount of cybernetic enhancement. His body could shrug off standard rounds—but against Kenshin, that wasn't nearly enough.
Not every Maelstrom goon went around armored up to withstand tech weapons. That kind of heavy mod was rare even in their ranks. Armor added weight, and in a real fight, a split-second delay meant getting shredded by explosions or laser cutters.
Armor always came with trade-offs. To defend perfectly against both concussive and cutting damage, you'd need so many implants you'd be halfway to becoming Adam Smasher.
Royce, by contrast, was still a "pure" enough Maelstrom boss. He cared about status, not becoming a full-blown cyberpsycho.
Which meant he couldn't tank Kenshin's rounds.
But Royce knew his meat body was the weakest link. He'd prepared for that.
As the bullets closed in, he raised a high-grade combat shield with his left arm—an alloy built into the exosuit.
Clang—
The tungsten-core rounds struck the shield and deflected with a strange metallic note. Whatever that thing was made of, it worked. The impact didn't so much as jostle his powered limb.
Clearly, Kenshin's rapid-fire mode, without a full charge, couldn't punch through that kind of defense.
But Karl was more interested in something else—Royce's speed.
"Reflex booster, huh? Not surprising for a chrome-happy gang boss."
But raising a shield like that also blocked his own line of sight. And that was all Karl needed.
He darted forward. By the time Royce lowered the shield to look, Karl was already there.
Royce's cyber-optics flickered wildly. Multiple visual streams snapped to Karl's blurry figure.
Without hesitation, he adjusted the angle of his shield and squeezed the trigger on his charging weapon, now aimed directly at Karl.
A searing red beam erupted from the rifle, fed continuously by the exosuit's high-capacity power pack on Royce's back.
The beam swept across the floor in a wide arc, tracking Karl's movement through brute force. But beams that required the arm to pivot couldn't match Karl's speed.
"Too slow."
Karl had hoped Royce might be interesting—he wanted to see what kind of punch that bulky Centaur-class exosuit packed.
But this? This was sad.
At best, Royce was just a mobile turret. And even then, one lucky shot from a Dogtown bootleg rocket launcher could take him out. So much for the feared boss of Maelstrom.
By the time the beam swept past Karl's phantom image, he was long gone.
A natural eye can experience motion blur from objects leaving a spot in less than 0.4 seconds. But cyber-optics? They're designed to eliminate that delay. For Karl to leave a visual ghost in Royce's optics meant one thing: even advanced tech couldn't keep up with him.
A regular human reacts in 0.3 seconds. Elite soldiers trained for speed can reach 0.11. With a reflex booster installed, Royce was faster still.
And even that wasn't enough.
Before Royce could react, Kenshin was already jammed under his chin.
His face was heavily modified, but the jaw—left mostly untouched—was the perfect kill zone. A single bullet would go straight through and tear into the brain.
So Karl pulled the trigger.
Bang.
Royce didn't even have time to speak. His brain cavity tore open—clean, fatal, fast.
For most mercs, taking down a guy like Royce would involve targeting the exosuit's power supply—disable the rig, then go for the kill.
But Karl didn't need all that.
He could see every weakness, clear as day. Paired with his speed, even an armored Maelstrom boss didn't stand a chance.
It was over fast.
Time had been tight.
But it had been more than enough.
A single heartbeat—that's all it took.
Clunk—
With the exosuit dead, Karl stared down at the body.
He blinked.
Four whole seconds passed before he processed what just happened.
Ah. Shit.
He'd killed him.
Karl had always said he wasn't great at pulling punches. Today, he'd proven that again.
By the time his brain said "don't pull the trigger," his finger already had.
He looked at Royce's corpse.
Wait—what had Rogue said again?
Something like "just teach him a lesson," right?
Don't kill him?
He looked back down.
Yeah...
Could the Maelstrom boss still be resuscitated?
Damn it.
The guy had come swaggering in with his exosuit, acting like he wanted a one-on-one duel. Karl had gotten a little too into it.
Who knew Royce was just a fancy tin can—one tap and he crumpled.
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