The P-Type unit mobilized at once. All six members headed straight for the armored vehicle waiting on standby, where 23 stood motionless beside two officers assigned as driver and navigator, calm and still as a statue. As they reached the rendezvous point, each of them boarded the cabin in turn with the practiced discipline they were accustomed to.
Only Roxanne broke away. She veered off toward her newest favorite ride, Edward's motorcycle, parked quietly a short distance away. Without hesitation, she swung herself onto the seat, clearly intending to take off on her own terms.
Moments later, the massive pressure gate began to slide open. Both vehicles moved out from the safety of the dome, pushing forward into the late-morning haze of toxic fog that shimmered under the harsh sunlight, heading straight for the coordinates previously designated by the system without a moment's delay.
On the other side, deep within the underground hideout of the allied group, Kelly's control panel erupted into a chorus of warning alerts as it picked up a strange frequency signal not far from their location. Connor reacted immediately, ordering a team to assemble without hesitation.
The operation team consisted of Drago, Edward, Chloe, and Jenkins. The four of them grabbed their gear and their trusted dust masks before jumping into the large pickup truck waiting on standby. The diesel engine roared to life, its thunderous growl echoing through the cavern walls as the heavy tires crushed against the gravel and surged forward into the outside world. Orange dust splashed across the windshield while Chloe floored the accelerator, driving them straight toward the same destination the P-Type unit was heading for, unaware of what awaited them ahead.
The Outlaw group, witnessing their comrades cut down in the blink of an eye, their bodies left in a gruesome state, began to waver between panic and fury. Their leader's voice rang out in a thunderous command.
"Hey! Get that thing out here! It's time we hit back harder!"
The moment the order was given, two burly men hurried to the back of the modified pickup truck. Working together, they lifted two objects concealed beneath thick cloth, then yanked the covers away to reveal their true fangs. The weapons were sleek and futuristic in design, their barrels lined with parallel magnetic rails. Portable electromagnetic rifles, far more destructive than conventional firearms, loaded with tungsten rounds ready to pierce through anything at supersonic speed.
The long-haired man, who had stood calm and unmoving all this time, widened his eyes ever so slightly. The fluid within the tubes running along his cheek began to flow once more as he sensed the danger of the weapons now trained directly on him.
Boom!
Before the Outlaw group could even pull the trigger on their devastating electromagnetic rifles, a violent impact thundered through the area, splitting the ground apart as orange dust spiraled upward and swallowed the battlefield in a blinding haze. At the same time, the roar of Roxanne's motorcycle engine surged closer and closer, cutting through the chaos.
The sight before him made the long-haired man's eyes flare wide with even greater shock. Standing tall at the center of the encirclement was the massive figure of Peter Lewis. This time, he had no intention of letting Roxanne have all the fun. He had already leapt from the moving armored vehicle and slammed down onto the battlefield ahead of the others.
The sheer force of the P-Type giant's landing sent shockwaves rippling outward, knocking the Outlaw fighters off balance as they struggled to keep hold of their heavy weapons. Lewis slowly straightened, the muscles in his arms flexing as his armor creaked under the strain, his imposing backlit silhouette framed beneath the blazing sunlight.
"So, Sven… you remember me, don't you?"
Lewis's deep, commanding voice rolled through the dust-filled air as he fixed his gaze on the long-haired man, his eyes burning with challenge.
"Lewis… you bastard. Finally tracked you down."
Sven, the long-haired man, slowly pulled down the strange mask covering his face, revealing a cold smile curling at the corner of his lips. The fluid in the tubes along his cheek began to drip, matching the surge of emotion rising within him.
It wasn't long before the P-Type unit's armored vehicle surged in and came to a hard stop, sealing off every possible escape route. Not far away, Roxanne remained straddling her motorcycle, completely unfazed by the tension thick in the air. Instead, she casually pulled out a cookie Sophie had slipped into her pocket and munched on it, utterly at ease amid the swirling orange dust.
"Project 12, Sven Gabin Moreau, You are under arrest. Comply immediately. Do not force me to escalate."
23's cold voice rang out the moment his boots touched the ground. He led the remaining P-Type members as they disembarked in perfect formation, every gaze locking onto a single target.
"What about the Outlaws?"
Gareth asked, glancing toward the group of hunters who were beginning to grow restless.
"Ignore them. If they interfere, eliminate them."
23 replied in a flat, emotionless tone, as if he were merely ordering the removal of something insignificant.
"Hey! You bastards… you really don't give a damn about us, do you?!"
Shouts of anger erupted from the Outlaw side as their patience finally snapped, furious at being treated like insects.
Before the yelling had even died down, another man raised his electromagnetic rifle and aimed it straight at the modified humans.
"Fire! Don't hold back! They're not even human anyway!"
The order came out as a feral roar.
Bang! Bang!
The instant the command was given, the first two tungsten rounds tore through the air with a thunderous crack, streaking toward their targets at blistering speed.
Sven twisted his body just in time, narrowly avoiding the first shot as it grazed past him. In his perception, everything seemed to slow, the tungsten round drifting across his field of vision in almost deliberate motion. Yet the force carried within that speed was overwhelming, the displaced air slamming into his face and body in waves as the projectile tore past.
Thud!
The sheer pressure of the wind knocked Sven slightly off balance. He clenched his teeth, silently cursing his own carelessness for underestimating the destructive power of the weapon the Outlaws had been hiding.
A thunderous detonation followed as the round streaked past his shoulder and slammed into the ruins behind him. The impact obliterated the old concrete structure, reducing it to a cloud of dust that scattered across the area under the late-morning sun, its light diffused through the toxic haze.
On the other side, the second tungsten round tore through the air, slicing between 23 and Lewis at a terrifying speed. The immense pressure wave forced Lewis to raise his massive arm to shield his face against the blast of displaced air.
But for 23, that same crushing force sent his body flying, knocking him completely off balance before he hit the ground hard.
Boom!
The round did not stop there. It drove straight into the P-Type unit's armored vehicle, punching through into the battery compartment that powered it and triggering a massive explosion. A blinding flash burst through the orange haze as flames erupted violently, devouring the vehicle in seconds. The two officers inside were killed instantly by the combined force of the blast and the searing heat, their vehicle reduced to twisted wreckage.
In that instant, as fire roared and explosions echoed across the battlefield, Gareth, Sophie, and Alicia reacted on instinct, dropping flat against the ground to avoid the shockwave and the storm of flying debris. As for Lloyd, his body vanished from where he had been standing in the blink of an eye, leaving nothing but empty space behind.
Amid the devastation and the columns of smoke rising into the sky, Roxanne seemed more thrilled than anyone else by the spectacle unfolding before her. Her eyes sparkled as she stared at the Outlaws' electromagnetic rifles, already wanting to get her hands on this new toy. She even picked up the pace of chewing her cookie, completely absorbed, as if she were sitting in the front row of a massive action movie, utterly unconcerned by the dust and ash swirling all around her.
"Damn it… they've got railguns?!"
23 spat the words out in irritation, a faint trace of blood mixed in with the saliva he spat onto the dusty ground.
"Hey! You alright, 23?!"
Lewis shouted over the roar of flames consuming the wreckage of the armored vehicle.
23 slowly pushed himself back to his feet, revealing scrapes and severe wounds across his body that were already beginning to change in a way that defied belief. Flesh shifted and knit itself back together, his skin restoring to its unbroken state within mere seconds.
"Doesn't hurt… not even a little."
He said it with a gaze that had begun to darken with vengeance.
In the brief window when the Outlaws scrambled to reload their next tungsten rounds into the electromagnetic rifles, Lewis didn't let the opportunity slip. The giant surged forward like a cannon shell, his massive hand shooting out to seize one of the Outlaws by the throat before slamming him into the ground with such force that bones shattered on impact.
Before the next man could even react, Lewis pivoted toward him and drove a brutal palm strike straight into his chest. Thwack! The impact rang out as a deep, tearing wound split across the man's torso, like the slash of some massive beast's claws. Blood burst outward, drenching the lifeless body in an instant, and Lewis threw his head back, unleashing a deafening roar like a monster newly freed from its chains.
Handgun and submachine gun fire from the remaining Outlaws poured into Lewis like a storm. Round after round struck his body, the sound of impacts echoing without pause, yet not a single bullet could pierce the fortress of muscle beneath his skin. He continued advancing toward them like an iron demon, while the railgun, the only weapon capable of harming him, remained stalled in the middle of its reload cycle.
"What the hell is that thing?!"
One of the Outlaws shouted in panic, emptying the rest of his magazine in a desperate spray.
"Move!"
Another man's roar cut through the chaos as he charged forward, a gleaming silver long-barreled revolver clenched firmly in both hands. He steadied his grip and pulled the trigger, sending a .357 Magnum round blasting out of the chamber.
Bang!
The gunshot thundered louder than the others. The heavy round slammed into Lewis with enough force to abruptly halt his rampage, snapping his head back.
"Hey! That actually hurts, you know!"
The P-Type giant bellowed, his voice laced with irritation and anger. The bullet still couldn't pierce his flesh, but the sheer impact was enough to stall him, buying the remaining Outlaws just enough time to frantically reload fresh tungsten rounds into their electromagnetic rifles.
Elsewhere, 23 paid no attention at all to the Outlaws pouring gunfire into Lewis. In a sharp, decisive tone, he ordered Alicia and Gareth to follow him immediately, breaking into pursuit of Sven, who had used the chaos and the cover of smoke to slip away into the ruins of the old structure.
That left only Sophie behind, entrusted with a crucial task: keeping a constant eye on Roxanne to make sure the troublesome girl didn't slip off on her motorcycle and wander off in the middle of a crisis.
"Don't sneak off anywhere, Rox-chan, or I'm not making you any more cookies next time."
Sophie warned, standing guard beside the motorcycle while her gaze lingered on the backs of her teammates as they disappeared into the crumbling ruins.
Amid the crumbling concrete ruins, Sven darted through narrow gaps with agile precision, weaving between the shattered structures to break free from the P-Type's operational range. But just as he was about to slip out of sight, his body slammed headfirst into a massive object blocking his path. Crash! The impact sent him flying backward into an old wall, kicking up a cloud of dust.
"What the hell…? There shouldn't be anything here!"
He muttered with a pained grimace, clutching his side as a sharp ache surged through his body. Scrapes and bruises from the collision began to make themselves known, adding to the throbbing pain.
As the dust slowly settled, the sight before him made his expression shift. A large pickup truck stood parked squarely in his path, unmoving. And the first person to step out of it was none other than Drago, his former companion from the experimental program who had escaped alongside him, now standing tall and staring at him with an unreadable gaze.
Edward and Jenkins followed, stepping out to take position beside the vehicle, while Chloe remained behind the wheel, gripping it tightly, ready for whatever was about to unfold.
"Damn it… of all people, it had to be him."
Drago muttered under his breath, his voice tight with tension as his eyes locked onto the long-haired man, who looked far more battered than the last time he had seen him.
"Just what I needed… another complication. And the worst one at that."
Sven muttered back, struggling to push himself upright. One hand clutched his side, the pain from the collision with the pickup still sharp and unrelenting. The wounds and scratches across his body began to heal, but at a noticeably slower pace. Compared to Drago or 23, Sven's recovery was alarmingly sluggish. Worse still, the injuries did not vanish without a trace. Faint scars lingered behind, silent evidence of the damage he had taken.
He quickly grabbed his strange mask and pulled it back over his face. The moment it settled into place, the fluid within the tubes began to circulate once more, moving steadily in the shadows cast by the ruined structure.
At that very moment, 23 arrived at the scene with Alicia and Gareth close behind. Amid the silent wreckage, the only sound was the low hum of Chloe's pickup engine. Three sides now stood facing one another, Drago's allied group, the battered Sven, and 23's execution unit, all locked in a tense standoff, their gazes sharp with pressure and intent.
"Project 12, Sven Gabin Moreau, and Project 29, Drago Armstrong. You are under arrest. Comply immediately. Do not force us to escalate."
23 repeated the declaration in the same flat tone, like a machine running on a fixed script.
"You've got a pretty short script, don't you… just the same line on repeat."
Drago let out a dry laugh, tightening his grip as he prepared for the clash. But before anyone could make a move, something small sliced through the air at high speed, cutting across the center of the standoff with a sharp whistling sound.
Boom!
The explosion detonated the instant it struck the ruins behind Sven, the shockwave blasting dust and debris across the entire area. Through the thinning smoke, a masked man with distinctive scratch marks on his mask emerged, standing roughly a hundred yards away.
Zenos…
In his hands was a railgun far larger and more advanced than those carried by his subordinates. Residual electricity still crackled along its barrel from the shot he had just fired. He stood there, unmoving, his gaze fixed on the modified humans with the hungry intensity of a predator that had finally found its prey.