Chapter 100
Chapter 100
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 100
Chapter Title: Chapter 7 Masquerade (16)
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***
Whisper whisper—
“Hey. Hepburn.”
“Hmm...”
“Figure something out! I can’t charge through there even if you kill me!”
“No, those guys attached to its side should rush forward for sure, but...”
While Azel was desperately trying to push ahead, Professor and his group were also in a tough spot.
“Why are they retreating?”
Professor didn’t know much about Raptor strategies, but when it came to Dome tactics, he was practically an expert with no gaps in his knowledge. He had drilled it into his bones studying for the day he’d avenge his mother.
And from the Dome’s anti-Raptor playbook, this kind of retreat meant the Raptors had no intention of winning. Because—
Screeeeech—
Thud!
Thwump thwump!
The core of the Dome’s city defense strategy—those speed bumps, the wide-area electromagnetic barriers—were utterly ridiculous devices.
‘No matter what they shoot, unless it’s beams or plasma-based, everything gets snagged in midair. With enough power, it could stop an entire Raptor nest’s bombardment from scratching the Dome.’
Of course, they had a weakness. They guzzled ‘enormous’ amounts of electricity. Running them for just 15 minutes blacks out the entire Dome for three days.
Given the power draw, their range was limited to about 20 meters around the Dome where power supply was stable, though it could be slightly extended in combat.
Right now, those massive streetlamp-like devices trailing thick power cables behind the Silver Guard exosuit unit—the Electric Poles—handled that job. Grand name aside, they were basically transformers relaying the city’s electricity smoothly. Big, powerful transformers.
‘Nullifying metal projectiles over that range with absurd performance. The further those Electric Poles advance, the closer the electromagnetic net gets to the Raptor formation. Ways to counter: send a detachment to destroy the Electric Poles and block the advance, or retreat like now. Retreat lets the city’s main guns recharge, and no matter how tough a T-7 is, it can’t withstand the filthy overpowered high-tech weapons spewing a day’s worth of the city’s power output. So retreat is basically conceding defeat.’
The moment the Old Picture plan failed and those devices activated, defeat was sealed anyway. Still, if they could block the Electric Poles and concentrate all firepower in a salvo before the main guns charged—overloading the electromagnetic net by spiking the voltage—they might have a shot. Professor figured those Minute Men or whatever on the flank would move to block the net’s advance for sure...
But they didn’t budge. Not even thinking of moving, just slowly pulling back their formation while piling damage on the exosuit unit.
“Hmm... How about getting a little closer?”
“Suicide. Even with their jammers blocking radar, those on the flank are there to stop anyone coming that way. This scrap poncho won’t hide us long.”
“Damn. No way through then.”
Professor scratched his head furiously inside the poncho and wiped away the rough path he’d drawn in the sand for the three of them.
“Flank’s out. We could force it, but the cost would be one of us dying.”
“Hey hey, hold up. So we came this far just to sit tight? That’s... not great.”
“Loot aside, survival’s priority one, right?”
Ian, crammed in the narrow poncho shade, scratched his chin with a conflicted look.
“Not the money. There’s a guy over there I... have to kill.”
“What? What’s that out of nowhere? Spot someone you know?”
“Someone I need to know about, yeah. That Pack Leader who was cursing over the loudspeaker earlier. Sol Amar. I have to kill him, so I can’t just sit here and let them retreat.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake. And he’s their head honcho?”
“I get there’s personal beef, but can’t you hold off? Even with my evasion skills, sneaking past open ground to assassinate those alert giants is—”
“He killed our wife.”
“Tough—huh...”
“My daughter too.”
“Uh... um...”
Light words, heavy bombshell. The guy who murdered his family was right there in front of them.
“Khuhuhu! Shrinking up sudden like. Don’t worry, turn off the concern. I’m no rookie, lost people plenty before. Not flipping out or anything. I’m cool now.”
“Uh... glad to—"
“Not like I’m happy about it. Can’t just watch when the enemy’s right there. Not as a dad, not as the man who vowed a lifetime to one woman.”
Screeech—
Ian’s finger slid straight across the enemy marker on the sand map.
“No hole? I’ll make one. Got toys from the Dome, confident I can pull some eyes for sure.”
“Hey Joe. You aren’t...”
“Sorry guys. Hearing that name flipped the switch on carts or whatever. Not planning to die, so while I shake things up, you two slip through the chaos—”
Smack!
“Ow! Shit! What!”
“What? ‘What’? Take more, you idiot. Hey Vex! Beat this bastard’s ass.”
“Ow! Ah, fuck! Ack!”
“Honor my ass! Tell her in the afterlife you pulled that shit! She’d love that! Sis-in-law!”
“Dumb fuck! Retard! Idiot! Moron!”
Near enemy lines, they couldn’t yell, so the three bickered under the cramped camouflage poncho shade.
“Cool my ass. You’ve lost it proper. Gonna stir shit amid those Gatling-toting meat walls and come back alive?”
“Why not! Start with a big boom from explosives, dive in while they’re distracted, I hold off a combat vehicle, you and Vex hit the command vehicle from inside—”
“That’s why. How do you know your carcass won’t be honeycomb or basalt by then? Look, blood’s rushing to your head, happiness circuit’s fried. Cool? You’re fucked up.”
Professor sighed watching Ian cool under the machine-gun nagging. He wasn’t one to talk either. If Executioners weren’t involved, would he dive this deep? No telling now.
Key point: hearing Ian’s story, no way that potbellied Pack Leader Sol Whatever gets let off easy.
Calming the still glaring Ian, Professor said,
“Listen calm. I said flank’s out, not that we sit idle.”
“No flank then?”
“Just that it’s impossible now. Situation changed, so adapt.”
Professor split the entry path on the sand map into three and explained.
“Let’s up the risk a tad. Vex?”
“Yeah?”
“You drive, right?”
“I can, but you know I crash near 100% when I grab the wheel, Hepburn.”
“Fine by me. That’s the plan.”
“Uh... huh?”
“Just roll with it for now. Ian?”
“Yeah.”
“Heard a rumor, wanna confirm: T-7 tank pilots...”
Professor questioned Ian while rapidly sketching on the sand map.
Vex felt unexplained dread at that impish grin filling his face. Especially after seeing the big skull drawn where the V pointed.
***
Five minutes later.
Rustle!
“Huff, huff! Heave, heave!”
Briefing done, the three scattered. Facing the Raptor flank, Ian headed front near the tanks, Professor center, Vex himself sprinted rear till lungs burned.
Plan basics same: gap in flank, stealth master Vex infiltrates. No gap now, so two draw them out slight difference.
Vex prone under sand poncho, caught breath, counted time.
‘Professor center signals Joe once I’m set. Poncho down starts it. Three minutes after, 144 seconds ahead.’
Tick, tock.
Regulating breath, Vex stripped quietly inside poncho. Dome uniforms tough useful, but what enemies hunted for lit eyes. Per Professor’s plan, baggage to shed anyway, better early.
Stripped quick, Vex smeared dirt on scrawny frame. Sweat from motion helped it stick.
“23, 22...”
No watch, but dead accurate. He’d always been precise at timing. Probably since realizing every living second was debt to the ‘uncle’ who saved him.
“3, 2, 1.”
KABOOM!
Exact moment, massive blast ahead.
Even amid endless Raptor tank barrage, distinct thunderous roar.
Vex shed poncho, crawled over quake-shaking ground.
‘Infantry rattled. Eyes pulled there.’
Front infantry rushed blast site, rest mounted combat vehicles aiming there.
—
‘Draw eyes flashy first. You got those wireless mines, right?’
“Kh, ahem! For eyes, no need such premium... got two, one for keepsake...’
‘No, must use those. Wireless, yeah? All those Gatling giants’ eyes lock on you, boom and you’re swiss cheese?’
‘M-my rifle has grenade launcher, how with that...’
‘Grenade range, machine guns miss?’
—
‘First pop plus 7 seconds. Three, two, one, now!’
KABOOM!
Syncing pre-set mine blast, Vex quadruped-crawled to pre-scouted dust mound hide.
“Enemy attack!”
“3rd Legion, hold position! 5th, 6th form fire net!”
“Maintain formation! Maintain!”
Facing Dome barrage, orderly retreat, sudden raid—no waver. Ian used frag mine, distant for attention, some wounded sure, yet no soldier faltered.
‘Machine-like movers... alert eyes, but rigid ones have gaps. Textbook moves only.’
Tick, tock.
Head clock ticked endless. Ian’s part done. Next—
Bang—
Far rear, Raptor tank line extension where Ian was—Professor stood. Said sniper...
‘What’s that getup?’
Dome-cleared open flatland, height short? On Ian’s left iron case, still short? Stacked heavy rocks scavenged, atop that aiming.
Bang—bang—
Chaotic battlefield noise, somewhat weak near-future bolt-action rifle cracks.
‘Way short penetration for thick tanks or padded Mini Shooters...’
Vex grinned seeing flames concentrate on exposed combat vehicle amid formation shift for fire net.
‘Enough punch to ignite supply fuel cans dangling rear!’
Bang—
Whoosh—!
“Wha, whoaaa!”
“Fire! Fire!”
“Gaaaah! My body! Burning—”
Bang!
Thud.
“No panic, just enemy guerrilla! Lost one vehicle, one soldier! Fire team! Fire team left face!”
“Sniper! Call our snipers!”
Fuel blaze spread to vehicle, one combat vehicle ablaze—but that’s it. Crew shifted adjacent vehicles, inner ranks six-seven riflemen rushed, mounted on charred shell, aimed blast origin as fire died.
Snipers on, Professor pinned. Flashy moves, scant results from two.
—
‘Professor. Underestimating Raptors? Combat maniacs, remember? Won’t freak over mine and one burning vehicle.’
‘Obviously. If that worked, no need scheming. Chaos ain’t our job.’
‘Then?’
‘Said first: enemy acts, blocking profits us. If they take losses continuing, block at all costs. Simply—’
—
“Always move to screw the enemy...”
Vex, timing slow, saw pristine formation crumble sudden.
Clean fire net, vigilant near rear unlike Vex’s—front ranks wrecked.
“3rd Legion! Reverse! Reverse!”
“Enemy guerrilla torched one vehicle!”
“Pull vehicle! Pull now!”
“2nd Legion halted too!”
“Pack Leader! Vehicles, vehicles won’t move!”
“Push if needed! Don’t wanna get crushed by friendly tanks!”
Ian used not old anti-tank mine, but cutting-edge from 3rd World War: Magnetic Claymore ‘Flambejour’.
Blast power, frags same as standard, but Flambéjour had special anti-tank perk.
Grind—grrrrind—
“Axles jammed full... vehicle unresponsive!”
Post-trigger delay, embedded powerful magnet shards yanked each other, wrecking electronics, halting drive.
Line-moving easy with training. But reverse same line? Dozens tanks plus double combat vehicles lined?
Whiiiist—
Beyond Dome perimeter still, periodic railgun slugs at Raptor tanks. 25kg iron at near Mach 7. No turning massive shields rear in retreat.
‘Flank combat vehicles had to yield first in that reverse line—froze.’
Too heavy shields to track over stalled vehicles. Blocked rear tanks can’t retreat, halting invites unchecked Electric Poles and relays shoving electromagnetic net forward on Raptors...
‘Go time!’
Professor’s textbook: infantry check exosuits, destroy Electric Poles—forced now.
Swish swish!
Front infantry ebbed like tide, Vex dove gap into Raptor formation. Noise Pack per original impossible. Knife pair, underwear only, inner ranks still packed, Ian-Professor distant unjoinable.
Slash!
“Gack! Grrk! Grraaah—”
Thud.
Assassin deep enemy turf adapts fluid. Neck-slice sudden commotion checker, Vex closed dying froth-mouth’s eyes, swift uniform swap, dumped canteen on face dust-wash.
“Infiltration done. Now left...”
—
‘Good, he’s in. Clean entry feasible. But after? VIP kill? Arson?’
‘Good, but you die. Heard from Metaljaw: God bless, perfect spot for our Vex?’
‘Perfect... spot?’
—
“Hey! You there!”
Sharp rear voice, Vex near-drew hidden knife.
“What you doing! Name, unit!”
“Uh, that’s... I...”
—
‘Full getup swap, then no think, act normal.’
‘Normal?’
‘Dumb and dopey.’
“Eeeek! When did I!”
‘Just do. Triceratops tanks defect clusterfuck, worst part...’
—
“Shorty. Tank driver?”
“Y-yeah... yes! Y-yes sir!”
“Then quit dawdling, get in APC quiet! No escape thoughts!”
Glare-heavy officer yanked Vex’s arm rough, dragged front formation.
—
‘Cockpit filthy narrow.’
‘Tanks like that?’
‘Narrow baseline, T-7 shrunk front for headroom. Over 155cm can’t fit, regular infantry out. Stripped all padding still that tight.’
‘So off original driver, take seat?’
‘No need. Mach 7 iron head smasher, no buffers front pilot seat. Giant horn chamber equivalent. Vs Dome battlefield, T-7 drivers consumables. Just forward-back, so Raptors train short kids, swap fainted. You? Stumble scared kid style.’
—
‘It works?’
“Inside! No out thoughts. Serve great Raptor Society! Pride!”
Direct tank rear, cannon-shake close, troop APC inside: 10-14 year olds Vex-sized sat first. Terror faces, bruise marks told treatment rough.
‘...Assholes.’
Under Raptor officer guide, Vex infiltrated enemy key defense, T-7 tank driver seat.
***