The last rays of the bloody sunset clung desperately to the horizon, painting everything in dying crimson light. Soon darkness would swallow Staten Island completely.
The battle had only just begun.
Across chaotic streets where gunfire cracked in endless overlapping echoes, elite gang members in black combat uniforms fought for their lives. They used broken building walls as improvised bunkers, firing controlled bursts at enemies that appeared and disappeared like smoke.
The black-armored ninjas moved through shadows with supernatural ease, materializing from darkness to strike before vanishing again. They were ghosts, phantoms, nightmares given physical form.
Ordinary bullets accomplished almost nothing. The rounds that found targets simply bounced off the ninjas' leather armor with metallic pings, as ineffective as throwing pebbles. The gang members might as well have been armed with slingshots.
Only the heavy weapons made any difference. Rifle grenades and high-explosive munitions could actually damage these undead warriors, the concussive force and shrapnel overwhelming whatever supernatural resilience protected them. When those weapons connected, ninja bodies dissipated completely, turning to strange black smoke that faded into nothing.
But as minutes crawled into hours, ammunition for those precious heavy weapons dwindled toward zero. Each grenade became more valuable than gold. Each explosion represented one less weapon in their increasingly desperate arsenal.
The battlefield situation deteriorated with brutal inevitability.
As the sky darkened further, conditions favored the black-armored ninjas even more. Every shadow became a potential spawn point. Every patch of darkness held potential death. The gang elites' casualty rate climbed steadily.
They were losing. Slowly, inexorably, they were being ground down toward annihilation.
Then the ground shook.
Not the sharp jolt of an explosion but sustained, rhythmic tremors. Something massive moving beneath the street, approaching their position with mechanical precision.
The center of the main street, located directly between the two fighting forces, suddenly collapsed inward with a tremendous roar. Pavement fractured, concrete supports snapped, underground utilities ruptured. A massive crater opened, easily ten meters across, dust and debris erupting upward in a choking cloud.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
From that enormous hole, before the dust had even begun settling, emerged automatic servo robots. Their metal carapaces resembled turtle shells, curved and reinforced, designed to deflect incoming fire. Each robot carried a heavy logging gun, the industrial-grade weapons looking almost comically oversized for their frames.
The servo robots jumped clear of the crater with surprising agility, immediately establishing defensive perimeter around the collapse zone. Their weapons swept the area in coordinated arcs, sensors tracking for threats.
Then the guns spoke.
BOOM BOOM BOOM!
The heavy logging guns roared with sounds like industrial machinery gone mad, chainsaw engines amplified a thousand times. Large-caliber bullets sprayed from multiple barrels simultaneously, each round the size of a human finger, traveling at hypersonic velocity.
The accuracy was inhuman. Literally. Computer-guided targeting systems tracked and eliminated threats with mechanical efficiency.
Black-armored ninjas hiding in building shadows simply ceased to exist. One moment present, the next reduced to dissipating wisps of black smoke by bullets that tore through walls and cover like tissue paper.
The servo robots maintained sustained fire, shells ejecting in golden streams, the sound deafening enough to physically hurt.
But they were merely the vanguard.
From the dark underground pit, tall figures began emerging. They moved with fluid grace despite their bulk, jumping clear of the crater in coordinated sequence.
Gang dogs. Four hundred forty-four enhanced super soldiers, each one wearing unpainted gray carapace armor that caught the dying sunlight with dull gleams.
Within mere breaths, they'd formed tactical squads with practiced efficiency. No verbal orders needed. They'd trained for this, drilled the formations until muscle memory superseded conscious thought.
As one, they raised their weapons. Hydra energy pistols in some hands, Terra I-pattern lasguns in others. The movements were synchronized, almost ceremonial in their precision.
Then they fired.
The effect was apocalyptic.
Scorching laser beams erupted from hundreds of weapons simultaneously. Blue and red coherent light lanced through the smoky air, crisscrossing in a deadly geometric pattern that left no escape routes.
The beams punched through fragile building walls like they were paper. Masonry offered no protection. Cover became a death trap as superheated energy found targets cowering behind supposedly safe barriers.
Black-armored ninjas who'd been attempting to hide simply burned. Their bodies didn't have time to dissipate naturally. The laser strikes converted flesh to ash instantaneously, leaving only wisps of strange black smoke hanging in the air where warriors had stood moments before.
The smell of ozone and burnt organic matter filled the street, thick enough to taste.
"First team, establish defensive line around current position!" Bucky's voice cut through the combat noise, transmitted through comm channels directly to every gang dog's helmet. His mechanical arm held a Terra I lasgun with casual competence, while a chainsword hung across his back. "Occupy surrounding commanding heights! Second team, assist gang members in treating wounded and combine with third team to search for surviving civilians! Ensure their safety!"
His cold expression never changed as he continued issuing orders with rapid precision.
"Fourth team, advance with automatic servo robots into the streets! Engage in close-quarters combat! Shrink enemy operational range!"
A brief pause, then his voice dropped lower, harder.
"Remember: show no mercy to any heretic. Kill them without hesitation. Leave absolutely no survivors."
The gang dog squads moved immediately, tactical doctrine overriding any hesitation or moral concerns.
Portions of the force used ruined walls as improvised ladders, their enhanced strength making vertical climbing trivial. They reached building rooftops and platforms in seconds, establishing elevated firing positions that commanded entire street sections.
Each elevated position held multiple fighters, all armed with Hydra energy pistols for the superior rate of fire. They knelt in professional stances, metal helmets scanning the streets below through enhanced optical systems.
Whenever sensors detected movement in shadows, fingers squeezed triggers. Blue energy beams lanced downward, eliminating threats before they could materialize into actual attacks.
Meanwhile, other gang dog teams advanced into the streets proper, using automatic servo robots as mobile cover. The robots' heavy armor absorbed incoming fire while the gang dogs followed in tactical formations, carefully exploring every corner and alcove.
Suspicious locations received preemptive laser sweeps. Better to waste ammunition than lose soldiers to ambushes.
The strategy forced black-armored ninjas out of hiding. Faced with laser bombardment of their concealment positions, they had to attack or die in place.
They attacked.
Sharp katanas flashed in the dying light. Specialized dart guns spat projectiles at close range. The ninjas moved with supernatural speed and precision, targeting joints and weak points in the gang dogs' armor.
But it wasn't enough.
The composite armor plates, plasteel backed by ceramite steel, turned aside blades that should have severed limbs. Darts that should have found gaps in protection simply bounced away or embedded harmlessly in outer layers.
And the bulletproof leather armor the black-armored ninjas wore, the supernatural protection that had made them invincible against conventional firearms, offered zero defense against coherent light beams traveling at the speed of light itself.
Laser weapons didn't care about ballistic protection. They burned through whatever they touched.
A few exceptional ninjas, warriors with truly superhuman combat capabilities, managed to break through the laser barrage through sheer skill and luck. They closed to melee range, katanas swinging for killing blows.
The gang dogs grabbed them by their throats.
Enhanced strength, Super Soldier Serum pumping through enhanced cardiovascular systems, allowed the gang dogs to simply overpower opponents through brute force. Reaction speeds far exceeding baseline human made dodging enemy strikes trivial.
Metal fists covered in composite armor pounded ninja skulls into pavement repeatedly until the bodies stopped twitching and dissipated into black smoke.
As minutes passed and laser fire continued without pause, the battlefield situation reversed with stunning rapidity.
Gang elites who'd been moments from death rallied behind the invincible gang dog squads. They added their conventional firepower to the assault, rifle grenades and remaining explosives finding targets among enemies forced from cover.
The black-armored ninjas died in droves. Each one vanished in wisps of strange smoke, their bodies never remaining long enough for proper corpse identification.
But then, just as victory seemed certain, just as the Hand's forces appeared to be collapsing completely...
More ninjas emerged.
From every shadow, from every patch of darkness, fresh black-armored warriors materialized. Not reinforcements arriving from distant positions. New instances of enemies already killed, as if death meant nothing, as if each defeated warrior simply respawned after brief delay.
The shadows were endless. The ninjas were endless.
This time, the newly manifested enemies carried high-explosive grenades openly in their hands. Deadman switches, Bucky's tactical instinct supplied. They planned suicide bombings, using their immortality as a weapon against opponents who could actually die.
The black-armored ninjas charged forward with katanas raised and grenades clutched in opposite hands. If you killed them, the grenades would fall and detonate. If you didn't kill them, they'd reach your position and detonate anyway.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Explosions erupted across the battlefield as gang dogs on elevated positions prioritized targets. Their neural reaction speeds, enhanced far beyond human norms, allowed split-second targeting decisions. The incredible rate of fire from laser weapons meant they could engage multiple suicide bombers simultaneously.
Blue and red beams found grenades, detonating them prematurely. Black-armored ninjas vaporized in their own explosions, the blasts catching clusters of their comrades and creating cascading failures.
Bucky received battlefield updates through his comm system, processing information with Winter Soldier efficiency. He adjusted orders immediately.
"Second and third teams, abandon current objectives!" His voice cut through the chaos with absolute authority. "All units to frontline combat positions! Converge on enemy approach vectors!"
The additional squads pivoted smoothly, their training allowing rapid mission changes without confusion or delay. Within seconds, they'd joined the firing lines, adding their weapons to the coordinated barrage.
The laser fire became so intensive it resembled a solid wall of light. Blue and red beams layered over each other until individual shots became indistinguishable from the whole.
Nothing survived passage through that killing zone. Ninjas caught in the open simply ceased to exist, vaporized before their nervous systems could register damage. Buildings in the fire lanes collapsed under sustained energy bombardment, their structural supports melted through.
The automatic servo robots added their logging guns to the symphony of destruction, heavy-caliber rounds chewing through anything the lasers missed.
After the nearby buildings had been completely demolished by the combined firepower, reduced to rubble and smoking foundations, the battlefield transformed. What had been an urban environment became open ground, every shadow eliminated by systematic destruction.
The black-armored ninjas lost their greatest advantage. Without shadows to spawn from or hide in, their supernatural mobility meant nothing.
They had nowhere to go.
Faced with inevitable annihilation, the remaining Hand forces made a final gesture. As one, the surviving black-armored ninjas drew their katanas and performed ritual suicide, blades crossing their own throats with precise efficiency.
Their bodies began dissipating into the familiar black smoke. But instead of fading into nothing, the smoke streams coalesced. They flowed together like tributaries joining a river, gathering into a thick dark cloud that moved with obvious purpose.
The combined essence of dozens, perhaps hundreds of defeated ninjas streamed toward a single building on a secluded street several blocks away. A structure that had somehow avoided damage, standing intact amid the devastation.