The dark night sky stretched overhead like a vast obsidian dome, stars twinkling through gaps in the smoke-filled air. Each point of light seemed to blink like distant eyes watching the carnage below with cold dispassion.
Near the empty streets beyond the active battlefield stood a fifteen-meter observation tower, its metal framework still intact despite the surrounding destruction. The structure swayed slightly in the wind, groaning with each gust, but held firm.
On the platform circling the tower's summit, Nolan stood in his Terminator armor. The massive suit added another meter to his already impressive height, turning him into something beyond human scale. Servo-motors hummed softly with each small adjustment of his stance.
His expression, visible through the open faceplate, showed no emotion as he studied the tactical displays projected from David's optical sensors. Virtual images floated in the air before him: thermal maps, troop position overlays, ammunition status readouts, casualty reports streaming in real-time.
He tracked the battlefield's evolution with professional detachment, watching colored icons move across tactical grids, noting patterns in enemy responses, adjusting squad objectives to exploit emerging opportunities.
"Bucky, order all gang dog teams to contract their defensive perimeter," Nolan said into his comm system, his voice carrying clear authority despite the conversational tone. "The strange black smoke residue from the death ninjas has exposed their rally point. It's located in a building approximately two kilometers from your current position. Specific coordinate data is transmitting now. Confirm receipt."
He took a deep breath, the Terminator armor's environmental systems cycling fresh air through internal filters. His gaze swept across the virtual displays one final time, confirming all tactical elements were properly positioned.
Then Nolan reached down and picked up the diamond-shaped helmet that had been mag-locked to his waist. The ceramite surface was cool against his palms, its weight familiar and reassuring. He raised it slowly and settled it over his head, feeling the helmet's seals engage with soft clicks.
The faceplate display activated immediately, painting the world in enhanced vision modes. His face disappeared behind armored protection, concealing whatever eagerness might have shown in his eyes.
"David, you're assuming command of tactical operations," Nolan said, his voice now processed through the helmet's vox-caster, giving it metallic undertones. "Monitor official response channels carefully. This level of sustained combat will definitely attract attention from law enforcement and possibly federal agencies."
He paused, running final equipment checks through the armor's systems.
"The Hand's assault has been suppressed by gang dog firepower. I estimate whoever's been hiding behind their forces will reveal themselves soon, now that their pawns have failed." A slight smile crossed his hidden face. "Which means it's time for me to warm up properly."
"My Lord, you may proceed without concern," David replied, its mechanical voice carrying what might have been dry amusement. The Man of Iron retracted its holographic projections, conserving power. "I hope you find the engagement... enjoyable."
Before David finished speaking, sounds emerged from Nolan's Terminator armor. The subtle hum of electro-fiber bundles contracting, the whir of servo-motors engaging, the deep bass rumble of power systems ramping to combat levels.
Nolan stepped forward suddenly, his massive armored boot hitting the platform's edge.
Then he simply dropped.
The enormous figure, weighing several tons of ceramite plate and reinforced systems, plummeted toward the ground below. Wind shrieked past the armor's surfaces. Distance closed with terrifying speed.
BOOM!
Impact.
The collision with pavement created a crater three meters across. Shockwaves radiated outward, shattering already broken windows in nearby buildings. Countless fragments of rubble and debris flew in all directions, propelled by displaced air.
For a moment, Nolan knelt in the impact crater, one fist planted against fractured concrete, the classic superhero landing pose.
Then the Terminator armor's heavy magnetic boots engaged, gripping the broken ground with irresistible force. Nolan rose smoothly to his full height, servo-motors pulling him upright without visible effort.
He began running.
The Terminator armor moved like a tank that had just started its engine, building momentum with each pounding step. The ground shook rhythmically as several tons of armored warrior accelerated along the dilapidated street, heading toward the coordinates where the Hand's forces had retreated.
Buildings flashed past on either side, little more than blurs in his enhanced vision.
Meanwhile, at the battlefield's front line, Bucky processed incoming information with practiced efficiency. Years as the Winter Soldier, combined with recent command experience, allowed him to analyze situations and reach tactical conclusions rapidly.
He used his mechanical arm to lift the Terra I-pattern lasgun he'd been carrying, the weapon still radiating heat from sustained firing. Barrel coolant vented in small white puffs, creating brief fog around the muzzle.
Through his comm system, Bucky issued orders with crisp precision. "All gang dog teams, contract defensive lines. Maintain tactical spacing. Prepare for coordinated advance on new objective coordinates."
Several dozen seconds passed as units acknowledged and repositioned. Bucky scanned the assembled force with critical eyes, checking for damaged armor or wounded fighters who should be held in reserve.
Satisfied with what he saw, Bucky's expression hardened into something grim and determined. He gestured forward with his mechanical arm, the limb's servo-motors whirring audibly.
The massive formation of gray-armored gang dogs began moving, advancing through ruined streets toward the coordinates two kilometers distant.
They traveled fast despite their bulk, enhanced physiology allowing sustained sprint speeds that would exhaust baseline humans in seconds. The sound of hundreds of armored boots hitting pavement created a rhythmic thunder that echoed between buildings.
The gang dog teams holding laser weapons moved through the complex urban terrain with impressive tactical awareness. They naturally divided into specialized roles without requiring explicit orders, training and instinct combining seamlessly.
Some teams peeled off to occupy elevated positions, climbing to rooftops and upper floors with enhanced strength making vertical movement trivial. They established overwatch positions covering wide firing arcs.
Other teams advanced at street level alongside automatic servo robots, using the mechanical units as mobile cover while maintaining clear sight lines and mutual fire support.
Within minutes, they'd surrounded the target building completely, forming an airtight encirclement that blocked every possible escape route. Professional military forces couldn't have executed the maneuver more efficiently.
Before them stood their objective: a massive building, easily ten stories tall, without a single light visible in any window. The structure loomed against the night sky like some vast predator, dark and silent and somehow aware. Watching. Waiting.
No sounds emerged from within. No movement visible through shattered windows. Just oppressive, expectant silence.
Bucky studied the building's overall structure with tactical eyes, noting structural weak points, potential ambush positions, likely internal layouts based on architectural style.
He hesitated slightly, fingers twitching with indecision. Then he slowly raised one arm and began making hand signals.
His fingers moved through a specific sequence, each gesture precise and unmistakable.
The automatic servo robots, receiving transmitted commands through their wireless networks, immediately surged forward. They leaped over the surrounding human teams with surprising agility for mechanical constructs, passing through the silent ruined streets toward the building's entrance.
Bucky's reasoning was sound. Unknown combat environments and complex building interiors carried massive risks. Better to send expendable mechanical units to probe defenses than risk enhanced soldiers who couldn't be easily replaced.
The servo robots formed assault formation according to pre-programmed tactics, their mechanical tentacles extending outward like metallic spider legs. Motors whined as hydraulics engaged.
SCREECH!
Metal twisted and tore. The heavy security door sealing the building's only visible entrance was simply ripped away, torn from reinforced hinges like paper. The robots discarded the mangled barrier and rushed inside with mechanical purpose.
The next second, heavy logging guns roared to life, their distinctive chainsaw-engine sound echoing from within the building's interior. Muzzle flashes strobed through the open entrance, painting the darkness beyond in stuttering orange light.
Fierce flames flickered and danced, visible even from Bucky's position dozens of meters distant.
Then, after perhaps forty seconds of sustained fire...
The guns fell silent.
Abruptly. Completely. As if someone had flipped a switch.
The dark interior of the building seemed to swallow sound itself, becoming a yawning void that consumed everything entering it. No mechanical status reports. No emergency broadcasts. No sounds of servo-motors or weapon systems. Nothing.
The sudden change made Bucky's frown deepen, lines of concern appearing around his eyes. He immediately activated his comm system, attempting to confirm the automatic servo robots' operational status.
"Servo units Alpha through Gamma, report status. Confirm structural integrity and current tactical assessment."
Silence.
"Servo units, acknowledge transmission. Report immediately."
Nothing. Not even carrier signal interference. Just empty dead air.
Bucky's jaw clenched. The automatic servo robots weren't true artificial intelligence, but their built-in programs were sophisticated enough to function as weak AI. They were fully capable of basic situation reporting, pre-recorded status updates, anything.
This complete communications blackout was wrong.
David's voice cut into Bucky's thoughts, transmitted directly through his neural interface with mechanical urgency.
"Bucky, all automated servo robots that entered the building have lost connection completely. The visual perspectives they transmitted before signal loss show no useful tactical information. Be extremely careful proceeding forward."
Bucky narrowed his eyes, exhaling slowly through his nose. His breath fogged slightly in the cooling night air.
The current situation presented impossible choices. He couldn't send gang dog teams to explore blindly. Every enhanced soldier represented massive resource investment and irreplaceable combat value. Treating them as expendable scouts would be criminal waste.
But summoning additional automatic servo robots would require substantial time. If unexpected complications arose during that delay, if the enemy launched a surprise counterattack while his forces waited, large-scale casualties could result from his hesitation.
As temporary field commander, such a failure would be unacceptable.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Heavy footsteps approaching rapidly interrupted Bucky's internal debate. The sound was unmistakable: powered armor moving at combat speed, each step hitting with enough force to crack pavement.
In the gradually thickening darkness, backlit by distant fires still burning across the battlefield, the three-meter-tall Terminator armor slowly revealed its massive silhouette. Nolan emerged from the ruined street's far end like a walking monument to war.
Simultaneously, his voice transmitted through Bucky's comm system, carrying absolute confidence.
"Bucky, battlefield conditions are fluid and rapidly evolving. There's no benefit in hesitation." Nolan's tone was matter-of-fact, almost casual. "Order all gang dog teams to increase laser weapon output to maximum power settings. Execute coordinated volley fire to completely demolish the entire building structure."
A pause, then: "If our enemies refuse to emerge, we'll ensure they never have the opportunity."
Relief flooded through Bucky like cold water. "Understood, Captain!"
With Nolan's authorization granted, Bucky immediately issued orders to all gang dog teams surrounding the target building. His voice carried through every comm channel simultaneously.
"All units, adjust laser weapons to maximum power output! Prepare coordinated fire on my mark!"
Whoom! Whoom! Whoom!
Instantly, the night erupted with light. Dozens of brighter blue laser beams mixed with brilliant red ones, creating a spectacular light show that turned darkness into artificial day.
The coordinated barrage launched toward the massive building with devastating effect. Coherent energy beams punched through walls, melted support columns, vaporized anything combustible.
Heavy load-bearing walls penetrated by scorching lasers couldn't maintain structural integrity. The intense heat melted reinforcement bars, turned concrete to slag, compromised every structural element simultaneously.
Small-scale collapses began within seconds. Portions of upper floors sagged, then fell. The building groaned like a dying beast.
Several minutes passed. Gang dogs maintained fire discipline, rotating shooters to prevent weapon overheating, ensuring sustained barrage without gaps.
Finally, each fighter had exhausted all but their last reserve energy battery. The laser fire slackened, then stopped.
CRASH!
With deafening collapse sounds and massive clouds of choking dust, the enormous building that had stood moments before became nothing more than a pile of rubble. Ten stories reduced to three meters of broken debris.
Nolan, who'd raised his diamond-shaped helmet slightly for better visibility, stood beside Bucky. Through his armor's sophisticated sensor arrays, he activated life detection systems and motion capture protocols.
Thermal imaging swept the ruins. Seismic sensors tracked for movement beneath debris. Electromagnetic scanners searched for active electronics or bioelectric signatures.
Nothing. No signs of survival whatsoever.
The gang dog teams surrounding the demolished building used this pause to replace their final energy batteries, fingers working with practiced speed to swap spent power cells for fresh ones.
They raised their weapons again, settling into alert firing stances, waiting for orders.
Then movement.
Right in the center of the building's ruins, high-raised steel beams and broken walls began shifting. Not falling under gravity. Moving deliberately. Something underneath was pushing upward with tremendous force.
Every eye locked onto the disturbance.
A massive illusory tentacle, seemingly composed entirely of writhing black smoke given semi-physical form, suddenly thrust upward through collapsed rubble. The appendage was easily five meters in diameter, its surface roiling with darkness that hurt to look at directly.
The tentacle rose fifteen meters into the air, then slammed down heavily toward the nearest gang dog squad.
The targeted fighters had no time to vocalize warnings. Their enhanced neural reaction speeds saved them. Without conscious thought, they threw themselves sideways, rolling across broken pavement with desperate speed.
CRASH!
The tentacle's tip struck ground with devastating force. The impact point simply ceased to exist, pulverized into fragments smaller than gravel. Shockwaves radiated outward, throwing nearby debris into the air. The already broken street surface cracked further, fracture lines spreading like spiderwebs.
Fortunately, the gang dogs who'd dodged in time appeared uninjured, already scrambling back to their feet with weapons raised.
Then came the sound.
A roar. Not human, not animal, something else entirely. A sound that existed at the edge of hearing, subsonic frequencies that made internal organs vibrate uncomfortably. The ground itself shook violently, tremors spreading through the earth like an earthquake's precursor.
Countless ruins and rubble continued flying outward, propelled by something rising from beneath.
The next second revealed the source.
A figure approximately twenty meters tall emerged fully from the demolished building. Its body was covered entirely in blood-red leather armor that seemed alive, the surface crawling with what looked like countless distorted human faces. Mouths opened and closed silently. Eyes rolled in agony. Expressions of terror frozen in flesh that shouldn't exist.
Behind the creature's main body, dozens of huge illusory tentacles danced and writhed like a corona of living darkness. Each appendage moved independently, curling and uncurling, searching for targets with obvious intelligence.
The creature stood before the assembled forces, dominating half the night sky, blotting out stars with its impossible bulk.
"All gang dogs, tactical retreat! Fall back!" Bucky's roar transmitted through every comm channel with desperate urgency.
The agile fighters responded instantly, maintaining firing discipline even while withdrawing. They moved in coordinated patterns toward nearby ruined streets, using buildings and debris for cover, never turning their backs completely on the threat.
At that moment, Nolan slowly raised one metal arm covered in heavy Terminator armor plating. His gauntleted hand reached back toward his power pack, fingers closing around a specific weapon's grip.
The C'tan Phase Sword slid free with a sound like reality tearing. Terrifying green light erupted from the blade, eldritch energy that existed partially outside normal space-time casting sickly illumination across the ruins.
Nolan raised his diamond-shaped helmet slightly, staring at the terrifying figure that covered half the night sky. Through his enhanced vision systems, he examined every detail with professional assessment.
His eyes tracked across the blood-red leather armor covered with distorted human faces. Studied the countless illusory tentacles. Then locked onto something specific: a familiar ancient symbol positioned at the creature's massive chest.
One word, written in characters that predated human civilization: "Beast."
Nolan took a deep breath, the sound amplified by his armor's environmental systems. A fleeting sigh escaped his vox-caster, carrying notes of recognition and something that might have been profound sadness.
"Matt Murdock," he said quietly, speaking the name like a prayer or a condemnation. "What in God's name happened to you?"
The Beast that had once been Matt Murdock, lawyer and vigilante, the man called Daredevil, opened mouths across its corrupted form and screamed at the uncaring stars above.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Writing takes time, coffee, and a lot of love.If you'd like to support my work, join me at [email protected]/GoldenGaruda
You'll get early access to over 50 chapters, selection on new series, and the satisfaction of knowing your support directly fuels more stories.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~