Meanwhile, at the Air Base on the outskirts of Briarwood...
The rookie David burst into the command post, datapad in hand, breath short.
DAVID: "Captain! There's an attack on the Great Dome! We just got word we should send backup, now!"
The Captain didn't look up from his console. He tapped lazily at the screen.
CAPTAIN: "Attacked by who?"
DAVID: "Unknown, sir. But it's coordinated. Multiple hostiles"
CAPTAIN: (Waving a dismissive hand) "Send the men. They're probably just scavengers. Weak. You're still a rookie, David. Watch and learn. Real threats don't happen in broad daylight."
David's jaw tightened. He saluted anyway.
DAVID: "Yes, sir."
At the Great Dome...
Chaos had found its rhythm.
The grunts flooded inward half in black jackets, half in crimson hoodies. They moved in pairs, smashing crates, overturning carts, hunting for the vault's entrance.
Then the Foreman found them.
WHUMP. His axe swung in a flat arc.
Two thieves flew sideways, ribs cracked, bodies tumbling into stacked lumber.
THIEF 1: (Screaming as he flew) "AHHH! Who WAS that?!"
The Foreman landed from his leap, axe planted, dust swirling around his boots.
FOREMAN: "Your worst nightmare."
He didn't wait for a response. He charged a battering ram of muscle and fury and his axe became a blur. One swing sent three more scattering. A backhand from his free arm crumpled a fourth against a cargo container.
But on the opposite side of the loading zone, a different fight was unfolding.
A small figure barely five feet, wrapped in loose fabric faced down five thieves. They circled him, grinning.
THIEF 2: "Look at this little"
The small man moved.
His arms lifted. The wrappings around his forearms unfurled, revealing pale, corded muscle and then they weren't wrappings anymore. They were extensions. Coils of energy-laced bandage shot forward, wrapping around two thieves' throats. He yanked. They slammed together, skulls cracking, and crumpled.
SMALL man: "Why me?" His voice was quiet, almost sad. "All of you... weaklings."
He raised his arms again. The remaining three tried to flee.
They didn't make it three steps.
The bandages struck wrapped crushed. He hurled them into the ground with contemptuous ease, then turned to the next wave already flooding the corridor.
SMALL man: (Softly, to no one) "Next."
He went for another group. More thieves came. More thieves fell banged up, smashed, scattered.
Then one huge figure stepped through the chaos.
BRUNO: (Laughing, cracking his knuckles) "Hey. What's with this paper-shrimp? Toilet paper really think you can stop us?"
The small man didn't answer. He just raised his arms.
Bruno exploded forward arms wide, charging like a battering ram. The wrappings shot out. Bruno broke through them with raw strength, his massive frame barely slowed.
He leaped, arm pulled back for a devastating spear-hand strike.
The small man vaulted over him light as air landing silently behind.
Bruno spun, grabbed him from behind, and squeezed.
The wrappings snapped again. But this time, the small man didn't escape clean. He was slowed. He pushed against the crushing grip, forcing the wrappings forward
SNAP.
He was free. Breathing hard.
BRUNO: (Grinning, flexing) "I'm Second Commander. You're in real trouble now, little man. Name's Bruno the Strong. "
SMALL FIGURE: (Studying his torn wrappings, then Bruno) "Makes sense. Why you broke my Iron Wrapping Sheets."
He raised his arms again. This time, the wraplings didn't shoot out they multiplied. Dozens of razor-sharp iron strands filled the air, glinting in the firelight.
SMALL FIGURE: "Iron Wrapping. Level Five. Pure iron."
The strands struck.
Bruno didn't dodge. He couldn't. They pierced his legs, his arms then wrapped, covered, bound him in normal wrapping. He struggled. He broke free again, blood streaming from the puncture wounds.
BRUNO: (Heavy breathing, rage building) "How dare you stop fighting!"
He lunged. A flurry of massive punches.
The small man dodged. Each miss. Each step. His feet touched the ground in a rhythm almost like dancing.
Bruno, screaming in frustration, tapped his neck.
A hum. A glow beneath his skin.
BRUNO: "Cyberware activated. Speed boost. Iron Skin. Now you're in trouble, paper-shrimp."
The small man stopped dodging. He stood still. He looked almost... bored.
SMALL FIGURE: "No. You are."
He raised one hand. Closed it into a fist.
The iron strands still embedded in Bruno's limbs tightened. More strands shot out not to pierce, but to cocoon. Pure iron wrapped around his torso, his neck, his face.
Bruno was lifted off the ground, suspended in a gleaming metal prison.
SMALL FIGURE: (Walking closer, voice calm as a teacher) "Now, Bruno. What did you learn?"
Bruno thrashed. The iron held.
SMALL FIGURE: "Next, I block your airway. You can't do anything."
Bruno's eyes went wide with recognition and terror.
BRUNO: (Muffled, desperate) "No... no, I know you... you're the Mad Demon"
His mouth was sealed. Then his nose.
The cocoon tightened.
Bruno hung there, silent, struggling, as the small man watched without expression.
Then he smashed the cocoon into the ground.
Bruno didn't move again.
On the opposite side of the dome, two identical titans carved through the chaos.
Bald. Bearded. Each easily six-foot-one. They moved in perfect, brutal sync.
TWIN 1: (Cocking back a massive fist) Punched a thief in red clean off his feet. The man flew into a stack of crates and didn't get up.
TWIN 2: Kicked another thief then another, then another sending them tumbling like bowling pins. Up and down the corridor, bodies scattered.
They rampaged side by side, a two-man wrecking crew.
TWIN 1: (Glancing at the spreading destruction, wincing) "The Foreman's gonna be mad. So much damage." He paused, looking at his brother. "Did we have backup? Do we need it?"
TWIN 2: (Shrugging, cracking his neck) "Does it look like we need it?"
They kept swinging.
Meanwhile, through the gaping hole in the dome's ceiling...
Wing-gliders descended silent, sleek, black against the smoke. The Air Force had arrived.
A small force landed in formation on an intact section of the upper walkway. The Captain touched down first, scanning the chaos below. His men spread out behind him.
On the opposite side, another group landed: Lieutenant and his squad, including the rookie David.
LIEUTENANT: (Drawing his sidearm, voice sharp) "Split up! Rookie, you're with me. The other half secures the opposite flank. We don't know what we're dealing with yet stay tight, stay alive."
David nodded, knuckles white on his rifle.
They moved.
And then a figure stepped out of the smoke to block their path.
He wore red. Not a hoodie like the grunts this was armored crimson, polished and dangerous. He smiled.
RED CLAN GRUNT: "You there." His eyes locked onto the Lieutenant's rank insignia. "You're high rank, right? If I take you down..." His grin widened. "I get promoted."
The Lieutenant raised his weapon.
RED CLAN GRUNT: "Fight me. I'm Red Clan."
The Lieutenant's eyes narrowed. "Red Clan? Here?" A pause. "Don't you work for the government?"
The grunt didn't answer. He just lunged.
A flying kick fast, brutal caught the Lieutenant in the chest. He went flying, hit a support beam, and crumpled.
RED CLAN GRUNT: (Rolling his shoulder, unimpressed) "Anyway. You chose the thieves."
The Lieutenant pushed himself up, coughing blood. His squad raised weapons, but he waved them back.
LIEUTENANT: (Wiping his mouth, eyes hard) "You Red Clan... pack a punch." He straightened, despite the pain. "What's in those punches?"
The Lieutenant launched upward, wing-gliders flaring. In one smooth motion, he drew two semi-automatic pistols and opened fire.
BRRRRT. The stream of rounds filled the air.
The Red Clan grunt moved. Not away through. His arms came up, shielding his face. Rounds sparked off his forearms, his shoulders. Scrapes. Nothing serious.
He grabbed a chunk of shattered concrete a boulder and hurled it.
The Lieutenant wove mid-air, the boulder whistling past his head.
Then the grunt jumped.
He caught the Lieutenant's ankle in mid-air like catching a falling leaf.
RED CLAN GRUNT: (Grinning through the wind) "You dumb birds. Always in the air. Makes it hard on us land people." His grip tightened. "So we grab you. And smash you."
He slammed the Lieutenant into the ground.
The impact cratered the floor. The Lieutenant's eyes went white. He didn't move.
RED CLAN GRUNT: (Rolling his neck, scanning) "Who's next?"
A shaky voice behind him.
DAVID: (Rifle raised, hands trembling but aim steady) "S-Surrender. Or else."
The grunt turned. Looked at the rookie. Laughed.
RED CLAN GRUNT: "Do you got the guts to use that, rookie? You've never even seen a real fight."
David's finger tightened on the trigger.
The grunt moved.
A blur. An uppercut that lifted David off his feet. A follow-through slam into the ground. The grunt straightened, cracked his neck, and started to walk away.
David got up.
Head bleeding. Vision swimming. But standing.
He threw a punch wild, desperate.
The grunt dodged. Weaved. Parried. A single punch to David's gut sent him flying across the loading bay.
David hit the ground and stayed down.
The grunt sighed, disappointed.
And then two massive shadows fell over him.
TWIN 1: (Looking down at the grunt, then at David, then at the Lieutenant) "Well, well. Who do we have here? Backup?"
TWIN 2: (Spitting on the ground) "Air Force. Worst."
They cracked their knuckles in unison.
TWIN 1: (Cracking his knuckles, eyeing Aster) "Let's make this interesting. A challenge. One hit each. First to land a clean shot... last hit finishes. And first can't knock him out. That's the rule."
TWIN 2: (A slow, dangerous grin) "Accepted."
He produced a coin from somewhere flipped it high. It glinted in the firelight.
TWIN 2: "Heads or tails?"
TWIN 1: "Heads."
The coin spun. Caught. Slapped onto Twin 2's forearm.
TWIN 2: (Peeking, then smiling wider) "Tails. Looks like I'm last."
Aster's eyes darted between them. His arrogance flickered replaced by something colder. Recalculation.
ASTER: (Voice low, measuring) "Who are you two?" A pause. "You look strong. I only give my name to the strong." He straightened, rolling his shoulders. "I am Aster."
His eyes tracked them. Ready. Waiting.
Twin 1 moved.
Not fast. Not flashy. Just... there.
A single gut punch. Aster folded air exploded from his lungs and he flew across the loading bay.
Before he could recover, Twin 2 was already above him. A spinning leg kick, trailing flames from the sheer speed and force, caught Aster mid-flight.
He became a meteor.
Burning. Spinning. Crashing through stacked cargo, through a support beam, through concrete until he slammed to a stop in a crumpled, smoldering heap.
Twin 2 landed lightly, dusting off his hands.
TWIN 2: (Walking past David, not even looking down) "You, rookie. Stand up." He gestured at the chaos around them. "Lot of work to do."
David, bleeding, shaking, but alive, slowly pushed himself up.