Chapter 107: Retaliation Protocol
Major Ward and his Militech soldiers stood frozen, struggling to comprehend the massacre unfolding before them.
In their vision, Moiré's figure had only flickered for an instant, like a transmission glitch.
But in that fractional second, the tight, disciplined crossfire of the Arasaka kill-team had been physically torn apart from the inside. It was a total structural collapse.
They couldn't track Moiré's micro-precise trajectory. They could only witness the aftermath.
Arasaka elites fell one by one. Most didn't even have time to scream.
A neat bullet hole appeared in a forehead. A throat was cleanly opened. An arm holding a weapon was severed at the elbow.
Death arrived with an efficiency that bypassed human reflex, visiting each Arasaka soldier with surgical precision.
This wasn't a battle. It was a unilateral, cold-blooded purge.
The air was filled with two distinct rhythms of gunfire: the panicked, erratic spray of the Arasaka 'Masamune' rifles, and the steady, short, rhythmic bursts of Moiré's auxiliary sub-machine gun. Each brrt from her weapon was a death knell, inevitably followed by the termination of a life-sign.
Ward was a veteran. His shock lasted less than two seconds.
Pushing down the chill in his gut, he roared at his men, "Don't just stand there! Suppression fire! Clear the flanks! Match her tempo!"
He realized immediately that their only role was to not get in the way of that terrifying entity and to mop up any stragglers she missed.
The Militech soldiers snapped out of it, leaning from cover to pour fire into the few Arasaka operatives trying to retreat or hiding in Moiré's blind spots.
Their fire was merely the background music to Moiré's dance of death, filling the negligible gaps in the slaughter.
The engagement started without warning and ended with shocking speed.
In less than two minutes, the last Arasaka soldier, attempting to vault a low wall, was dropped by a single shot to the back of the neck from thirty meters away. The gunfire ceased abruptly.
Silence reclaimed the mining facility, save for the wind whistling through the metal ribs.
The stench of cordite and fresh blood was thick and nauseating.
Over a dozen elite Arasaka corpses lay twisted in the rubble, a silent testament to the brief, brutal carnage.
Moiré stood motionless in the center of the kill-zone. Slowly, she retracted the auxiliary sub-machine gun into its forearm housing.
Her dark grey combat-suit was pristine. Even her boots showed no obvious stains. It was as if she had walked through a slaughterhouse without touching a drop of blood.
She turned calmly to Major Ward. Her augmented optical lenses scanned him and his squad, verifying the threat was neutralized, or perhaps silently querying if the transaction was still valid.
Her composure was a jarring contrast to the carnage around her, as if the high-efficiency massacre she had just performed was merely a light warm-up.
"Transaction continues," her voice was flat, devoid of fluctuation.
Ward took a deep breath, steadying himself, and signaled his men to complete the verification and transfer.
His gaze on Moiré was complex—a mix of deep awe for her combat prowess and a burning, undisguised ambition.
Once the transfer was confirmed, he stepped forward, his tone sincere. "Lieutenant, your skills are as exceptional as they were in the service."
He used her old Militech rank deliberately, injecting a note of camaraderie. "Honestly, seeing you like this... it reminds me of the old days in Mobile Infantry. Jackson and the others would be happy to see you doing well."
He paused, watching her closely. "Militech still considers you one of us. If you're willing, we could arrange an informal meet-up. Like the old days at the Officers' Club. Some bonds aren't easily broken."
Moiré stood still, her eyes glowing faintly in the gloom.
She listened, her face impassive, as if the names and memories were wind passing her ears.
"I remember Jackson," her voice was steady as the eternal night of the Badlands. "I remember every day in the Mobile Infantry."
She paused, looking directly at Ward. "But those memories do not influence my judgment. Nor do they sway my loyalty. My Master's decision is absolute. I cannot influence it. The transaction is complete. I will relay your... sentiments. But do not harbor expectations."
Her tone was a statement of fact. Indisputable. Final.
She made a simple gesture to Rebecca.
The two picked up the heavy crates and vanished into the darkness of the Badlands, leaving the Militech team standing alone, staring into the void.
Ward watched them go until they were swallowed by the night.
He understood. His attempt to leverage old loyalties had been like throwing a pebble into a deep abyss—not even a ripple.
He was silent for a moment, then ordered the site sanitized and an immediate extraction.
He knew Arasaka had taken a massive hit and would not let this slide.
And Militech needed to re-evaluate how it dealt with this mysterious power.
Back at the desert manufactorum, Moiré placed the crates in the designated zone and delivered a detailed report to Joric.
When she mentioned the Arasaka ambush, Joric's mechanical fingers, reviewing the manifest, paused for a fraction of a second.
Unplanned conflict was a waste of time. It disrupted efficiency. He detested unnecessary interference born of stupidity.
"Arasaka," Joric's voice held a cold edge. "They require a lesson in the cost of foolishness."
His assessment was instant. Defense and warnings were no longer sufficient. A more deterrent response was required.
Not out of anger, but out of efficiency. To ensure such interference did not happen again.
"Moiré. Target: Arasaka," Joric's directive was concise. "No need to conceal your identity. Let them know, clearly, that this is the response to their ambush."
He intended to make Arasaka, and any other potential coveters, understand that provocation would result in merciless retaliation.
"Understood, Master." Moiré bowed slightly. Her combat systems were already initiating pre-mission diagnostics.
She had no questions. Only absolute obedience.
(End of Chapter)