"Boss? What now? Do we retreat or what?" Jax-03's voice came nervously over the comms.
"Retreat? Those gunships are equipped with anti-personnel thermal pods—they're not planning to let us leave alive." Jaxcalibur-01 adjusted his night-vision scope, confirming the loadout of the incoming helicopters. "Looks like they're here specifically for us."
"So the boss got played, huh?" Jax-03 gave a low whistle. "Eight armored trucks, three gunships, and a full company of infantry."
"Add in the ones from the warehouse earlier—our enemy's really gone all in."
"Stay hidden. No one fires without orders. I've already sent a distress signal." Jaxcalibur-01 issued the command calmly. "Jax-03, keep recon. The rest of you fall back to the container yard. Use the terrain and prepare for resistance."
Resistance? Against an enemy with air, armor, and numbers on their side—armed only with small arms? What a joke.
Jaxcalibur-01 knew full well they were cornered. The best they could do now was stay alive long enough for reinforcements or Public Security to arrive.
Conflicts between black market syndicates usually never reached this level. No one wanted the Public Security Bureau involved. Everyone knew the big-time black marketeers had powerful backers, but if things spilled into the open, that became an entirely different matter.
Some things could never see the light of day.
Jaxcalibur-01 also knew the enemy's helicopters' infrared pods would easily spot them. Their combat suits had limited heat shielding, but not enough to fool those eyes in the sky. Maybe only Jax-03—with his thermal-camouflage net—had a real chance at surviving.
If he rebuilds Jaxcalibur Squad one day… I just hope it doesn't turn into a den of chatterboxes.
He flicked off his weapon's safety. He knew it wouldn't do much against aircraft—especially armored ones—but even delaying the enemy for a second could give his teammates another chance to live.
Even if that chance was slim.
As for the big guy… what a shame. That loyal bastard was going to die because of them. Facing a full military strike force head-on—even he couldn't survive that.
The sound of rotors grew louder. A spotlight swept past his position. One wrong turn of that beam, and he'd be exposed.
Maybe, if he rushed out first—took out their spotlight before they reacted—he could at least confuse their aim.
He took a deep breath. He had once served in the Defense Force, fought many times in Hollow Zero against the Ethereal. But never—not even then—had he been this tense.
He began counting silently, gauging the distance and timing by sound.
Three!
Two!
There was no one.
The staccato of an autocannon cut through the night. Three shells detonated near one of the gunships, leaving streaks of metal across its fuselage. It was damaged but still flying—until Ignis, having corrected his aim, fired the last shell in his belt straight through its cockpit.
"Mamba, out!"
Hearing the giant's cryptic words and watching the helicopter spiral into the ground, Jaxcalibur-01 felt a flicker of hope.
The other two gunships immediately climbed, deploying flares to break targeting locks. They banked hard and spotted the armored figure below—Ignis, still hefting his autocannon.
Rocket pods and 30mm cannons opened fire.
But the towering warrior didn't flinch—he fired back.
The power armor's targeting system had already plotted the trajectories; the first few rockets missed cleanly. Using the adjusted data, Ignis fired a controlled burst.
Five dark clouds burst around a gunship's rotors. Shrapnel tore through the blades, and the aircraft lurched violently before spiraling down. The pilot tried to eject—but too late.
Ignis dove aside to avoid an incoming rocket, rolled back to his feet, and slammed a new magazine into place—his last one. He'd brought only six for this mission, thirty rounds total. Next time, I'm bringing drum mags, he thought grimly. The only reason he'd hit so consistently was the armor's firing correction.
The last helicopter was cunning—it kept moving erratically, strafing while never staying in one place long enough to be targeted.
Low on ammo, Ignis waited for his moment.
"Report—enemy armor approaching, dismounting infantry!" Jax-03 warned. "I see three heavy mortars. Watch out!"
The Iron Halo had cooled from its overload, ready to shield him again.
Once more, the gunship dove, loosing a volley of rockets and cannon fire.
Ignis stood his ground, lifting the autocannon to fire.
Explosions bloomed around him, but none struck directly. The shield absorbed the blast waves, the flame, the shrapnel—even the 30mm rounds. But the Iron Halo was nearing overload again; the kinetic energy was punishing.
Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.
Black smoke erupted along the helicopter's path. To ensure a kill, Ignis aimed straight for the cockpit.
The pilot could only watch as the shell grew larger in his vision before shattering the bulletproof glass—and the world went white.
"My god, he took out all three gunships!" Jax-03 shouted over comms. "He did it! Oh, crap—mortar fire! Incoming!"
A barrage rained down, aimed squarely at Ignis. He bolted, escaping just as the Iron Halo shut down.
"I could use some fire support," Ignis growled, hanging his autocannon on his waist mount. "And some guidance. Jax-03, can you handle that?"
"Say it—I'll try." Jax-03's voice grew steady.
"Can you take out their mortars?" Ignis asked. "Then guide me to their armored vehicles."
"You're going in alone?" Jaxcalibur-01 asked incredulously.
"Your men handle the infantry. The armor's mine." Ignis began moving toward the warehouse's main gate.
"Their positions are spread out. You'll have to hit them one by one," Jax-03 reported. "But I can guide you."
"Then let's begin."
A laser beam streaked through the night—then boom! A mortar shell detonated mid-air, obliterating the enemy's gun crew in a thunderous blast.
Nearby armored vehicles pivoted their turrets, preparing to open fire.
Then a metal giant burst from the cargo stacks, lightning crackling across his gauntlets. One punch—and an armored truck crumpled like foil.
The infantry tried to turn back for support, but Jaxcalibur's members opened fire from every angle, creating interlocking lines that forced them to engage elsewhere.
Seeing their lead vehicle destroyed, the remaining APCs slammed into reverse, firing their roof-mounted cannons frantically at Ignis.
He yanked two anti-armor grenades from his chest, tossing them while sprinting. Two distant vehicles were hit—twin blossoms of flame lighting the night. Secondary ammo detonations sent stray shells flying; one ricochet struck another vehicle dead-on, killing its driver.
In seconds, half the armored force was gone. The remaining four split up, trying to flank him.
Ignis unleashed his flamethrower, creating a wall of fire to block one flank, then charged the other. His leg servos roared, propelling him faster than ever. The enemy didn't expect that speed—he slammed into a side panel, flipping the vehicle outright.
Another APC tried to accelerate away, but Ignis hurled his autocannon like a boulder, smashing its gun mount and sensors.
Blinded, the commander popped the hatch to look—and saw a lightning-wreathed fist descending.
The man's remains painted the interior as the entire turret crumpled inward.
Two mortar shells exploded nearby. Ignis dove behind a wreck for cover, but the blast still ignited the APC's fuel tank.
"They're retreating!" Three reported. "Two vehicles left—they crushed their last mortar and are pulling out with the crew!"
"Their infantry's withdrawing too! Holy shit, how did you do that?" Jaxcalibur-01 was in disbelief. "You nearly wiped them out alone."
"Couldn't have done it without your support," Ignis replied. "Not chasing them?"
"You sure love flattering us," Jax-03 said wryly. "What would we even chase with—bare feet?"
"I'll check on the girls. Prepare to pull back," Jaxcalibur-01 said, cutting comms.
Ignis surveyed the carnage. This couldn't just be a black-market feud—the firepower was far too heavy. No wonder Markus had asked for him; maybe the man had known an ambush was coming. But who were these enemies? Ignis had no idea.
Still, it didn't matter. He was just repaying a debt.
He walked back toward the truck they'd arrived in, waiting for the others to regroup.