A towering fireball erupted with a deafening boom, its shockwave spreading outward, pounding against everyone’s eardrums.
They forced their eyes open against the sting, staring hard at the scene before them.
That rocket had come from Militech—
the Independent Infantry Anti-Armor Round, codename “Bee,” part of Militech’s “Zoo” series developed during the Corporate Wars.
A direct hit meant no one inside that armored vehicle could possibly survive.
Of course, it had to be a direct hit.
The next instant, through smoke and flame, the black vehicle spun violently into the air.
Its heavy frame lifted nearly three meters before crashing down with a thunderous impact.
Smoke coiled around it, flames still licking at the wreckage.
Boom. Boom. Screech—
It tumbled across the ground for nearly ten meters, skidding further before finally grinding to a halt.
Moments earlier—just after Meredith’s scream—Jackie had reacted without hesitation.
He wasted no time, wrenching the steering wheel instinctively to its limit.
With the massive inertia of the armored vehicle, the twisted front wheels instantly gave out, even bending the steel-forged hub.
It was like a runner stumbling hard on something underfoot—the car had “tripped” over its own front wheel.
The vehicle pitched forward, its own momentum launching it into the air.
It was this strange posture that saved them: the rocket struck the undercarriage at an angle, and the tungsten penetrator failed to penetrate.
The blast and shrapnel were left for the armor to handle—and it held.
The convoy behind slowed, weaving past the burning wreckage as they cautiously approached the overturned armored vehicle.
From its exposed underbelly, a crater was visible—fresh from the explosion.
The windshield was laced with spiderweb cracks, making it impossible to see inside.
Were they killed on impact?
Three vehicles swung open their rear doors, squads of armed men fanning out in formation, advancing methodically.
Meredith hadn’t skimped on her own safety. At the instant of collision and explosion, white airbags had filled every inch of the car’s interior.
No gaps, no blind spots—as if the cabin had been stuffed with a giant balloon.
That was why the armored vehicle, despite its specs, felt so bare inside—every bit of space had been swallowed up by safety systems.
Arthur pushed himself upright, head swimming but body unscathed. Not even a scratch.
He slipped silently out through the passenger door.
Several enemies had already closed in. Burly, black-vested, their torsos strapped with magazines, grenades, and tactical gear.
These were Militech elites.
They moved with precision, gun barrels overlapping, locking every angle of the overturned vehicle.
Then—thud. A sound from the driver’s side door. Every barrel swung toward it.
Suddenly, chaos.
A muffled shot cracked, blending with the roar of flames.
Of eight men, six dropped in sprays of blood.
Arthur’s narrowed eyes cut sharp as a hawk’s, locking onto his prey.
Smoke curled from the oversized, crude Revolver in his hand. This time, he’d aimed for the neck.
The target was small, the crouched advance posture drawing their necks in tight, almost shielded.
But Jackie’s diversion had pulled their gaze, leaving just enough of an opening.
Six bodies hit the ground, twitching unnaturally as they writhed in agony—
enough to slow the last two.
“Hurry... get out...”
Arthur shot Jackie a glance, then yanked open the rear door.
“Lady inside—move it, or you’ll be canned meat...”
He leaned in and grabbed Meredith, still dazed.
She hadn’t even been seated when the shell hit, and even with airbags, the crash had battered her badly.
Arthur hauled her out, slinging her arm around his shoulders before pulling them both clear.
“Goddamn bastards... using weapons like this... it’s against the rules...”
She clung instinctively to his neck, muttering curses, battered and shaken.
By then Jackie had already scrambled free, climbing over the wreckage.
At the same time, the two surviving operatives flanked the rear, rifles nearly raised.
Bang! Whoosh—
Jackie didn’t even lift his arm. From his hip, the purple pistol spat flame.
On the other side, Arthur’s Swallow darted from his waist, sinking silently into a man’s throat.
Behind them, seven pursuing vehicles swung open their doors in unison.
More squads poured out, rushing toward the fight.
“Hurry! Factory on the left!”
Arthur, dragging Meredith, shouted to Jackie.
He barely made a few steps before a sharp numbness shot through his ears, a piercing ring hammering in his skull.
A cold dread swept over him.
A bullet had whistled past, shaving only his hat.
“Ah... ugh...
Damn it...”
No time for fear—he just ran faster, keeping pace with Jackie toward the factory.
Pressing against a pillar, Arthur finally caught his breath.
His hand trembled as he thumbed rounds into the cylinder.
Moments ago... Death had brushed past him.
With a long exhale, his nerves steadied.
He snapped the cylinder shut, crouching low as he scanned the entrance.
The southern factory doors opened at the back—always in shadow, sunlight never piercing, the view clear and easy.
The pursuers were closing in, but here Arthur and Jackie had the terrain on their side, holding for now.
Even Jessica wasn’t idle.
The Militech squad had brought netrunners, launching furious strikes against Arthur and Jackie’s Neural Link, trying to plant Daemon inside.
But Jessica held the line, blocking them all.