53. A Total Messy Finale
The ground began to rumble violently. Sure, Carlos and I were thrashing around like mad, but we're just two people—what kind of impact could that really make?
I realized it on instinct.
My Linker pals must have heard my plea and come swarming here!
"Was that your goal?"
I snatched up the Finisher and pulled the trigger.
The bullet that shot out was dyed red, blazing hot as it streaked forward, leaving a shimmering heat haze in its wake.
Carlos thrust out his snow-white fist. The bullet met it head-on, detonating in a massive explosion.
Whoa! No wonder folks go nuts hunting down fancy gadgets.
I could whip up explosive rounds with my powers anytime, but firing them through a tool? Totally different feel. Compressing the blood, packing it thick with virus to draw out its full potential—it was so smooth.
Humans were made for tools, after all. Swinging around a single pair of gauntlets and calling it a weapon? That's beast territory.
The scorching blast died down quicker than expected. Once the heat cleared, there stood Carlos, perfectly unscathed.
Yeah, wasn't banking on him dropping from that. Heck, if he did, I'd be the one in trouble.
Anyway, about time? My buddies are almost here!
The thick fog that had billowed up started to thin out slyly.
Piercing through the fading mist came a familiar sight: military vehicles.
Huh? My other pals beat me to the punch.
I was dead sure the Cadaver crew would show first!
Turns out, even I didn't know—Cadaver friends get shy way easier than expected. They pick up my signals fine, but responses? Rare as hen's teeth.
So I have to guess from the noises echoing or the faint tremors underfoot.
"First Platoon Leader, sir. We've received your reinforcement request."
Jeeps, Humvees, dump trucks—even armored cars! The Executors came loaded for bear, teeth gnashing.
But... doesn't this feel off? The Garrison isn't that far, but this is way too quick.
And an armored car? I'd seen 'em parked in the motor pool over the past month, but never in motion.
Man... I wasn't the only one prepping a surprise party. Nah, if we're talking prep time, the Executors put in way more heart. Kinda hurts my feelings.
"Is that the Abyss you mentioned before?"
"Yeah. It's no ordinary one—stay sharp."
Familiar faces too. Come to think of it, first time seeing Carmen since that joint op. She's been swamped, I guess. Busy enough a whole month flew by unnoticed.
I was buzzing with excitement. Who wouldn't be, getting dumped with this massive pile of presents?
So.
Time to add a little more.
From me.
-Ruuuuumble!
The earth shook ferociously.
The Executors' prized armored car—meticulously prepped for the big show—had no answer for the bucking ground. It wobbled like a newborn flipping over and flopped uselessly on its side.
"Still got more in you, huh."
"Everyone, ready to fire!"
The armored car lay pathetically capsized, but no Executor lost their nerve. Party fever must've hit just right.
"Fire!"
Carmen's order dropped, and countless holes riddled the Cadavers popping up everywhere in an instant.
"I'll handle the Abyss. Other Executors, do not shoot it."
Looks like our fun sparring match wasn't over yet.
Gulp.
One Executor—Andres Vega—swallowed hard.
In the heat of this brutal battlefield, his mind drifted to old memories.
-Abyss? Some new Cadaver variant popped up, huh?
-Yeah, even if it did... we've got the First Platoon Leader here, right?
-Ugh, that again? I'm sick of it. Quit yapping and do your job.
A name tossed around like a joke with his fellow rookies. Rumors about this odd new entity called Abyss that had surfaced lately.
Word was, it stood out wildly from any Cadaver sighted before.
But weird Cadavers? A dime a dozen.
After years grinding this hellish Executor gig, you see quirky oddballs popping up all the time.
Vega figured this was just another one.
But the buzz wouldn't die down.
Curious, Vega dug into the source.
Hopping between a few Executors, all he got was mundane truth.
Smarter than average Cadavers. Let a captured human go free. Fled at the sight of the First Platoon Leader.
Unique? Sure.
Plenty of Cadavers lure folks with freaky tricks, but releasing prey unharmed? First time for everything.
Still, not gripping enough to fuel Executor gossip.
Five years in, Vega had seen it all.
Cadavers mimicking human voices. Ones posing as kids, silent as graves. Even ones holding teammates hostage for sadistic disassembly.
Year one, two, three stuff.
Light tales now, but back then? Nightmarish trauma.
Bottom line for Vega: A Cadaver freeing humans for free? Not that dangerous.
Not that he opposed hunting it. From a human-munching monster's POV, sure, just another beast.
Just... was it worth the hype? "Powerful"? Obvious bullshit.
It didn't even fight the legendary First Platoon Leader—just locked eyes and bailed like a coward. Sure, beating Lieutenant Lira was intriguing; First Platoon Executors were monsters too.
But smart Cadaver, right? Reports said other Cadaver packs were around too.
Even without teaming up, Cadavers prioritize Executors in the mix. No need to call it "coordinated."
That was his take.
-Bang!
Gunfire rang out. Familiar crack, but the tracer? Blood-red. Followed by incinerating heat.
"Ngh...!"
The Platoon Leader staggered back. His usual iron mask? Extra grim today.
Screeech.
How'd it snag the Finisher? Mystery. But dueling the Leader on even terms with his gun? Unbelievable.
No damage either way. Or rather, Abyss was refusing to fight for real.
This wasn't battle. It was toying.
Abyss's flesh and blood sprayed endlessly, but tentacles sprouted anew seconds later. Pointless.
Just watch? Or help now?
He'd brushed off rumors thanks to absolute faith in the Leader's win. Now that faith cracked.
Not just Vega. His joking buddies stood mute, staring.
"Don't shoot the Abyss." Insane order.
Cadavers rising from below were thinning out.
Now they all gawked at the impossible.
Miss this shot at humanity's calamity, when next?
Vega shouldered his rifle carefully.
Big breath, quelling shakes.
Pulled the trigger. One shot, two. That's all he registered.
Assault rifle spat endless rounds.
Defiance? Screw it.
Concentrated fire makes openings. Leader'd smash the disaster in that gap.
Hyper-focused, time crawled. In that instant, eyes met Abyss's.
"Dodge—!"
Tentacle rocketed over. It'd been far—blink, and it loomed ferocious.
"Guhk...!"
No reaction. Gut-punched, tumbling till a vehicle caught him. Shock spread; then he knew he'd been hit.
Vision blood-red. Burst optic nerve or flowing blood—either way, bad.
Coward? Laughable delusion.
Counterstrike hit before reaction. Did Leader know its speed? Pulled back the team for that?
If distance meant zip to Abyss, what good were Executors here?
Mere hostages, safe only till threatened.
Ah... so that's it?
That eerie laugh nonstop. To it, this fight was playtime.
Feeble lives it could snuff anytime. No sport in massacring toys.
"Hey! You okay?!"
"Cough...!"
"Damn it! He's alive! I said don't shoot—why'd you do that?!"
Vega had no words. Couldn't speak anyway.
In his blurry sight, only Abyss tilting its head lingered.
Someone lobbed fireworks my way.
Guessing the shooter's mood: Cadavers mostly culled, wanted to wrap this dull dance quick.
Or maybe that Executor wanted in on the party too!
So, Finisher up, compress blood, fire... boom, toast?
Yeah, wanna join? Earn your spot. Start by blocking a tentacle.
Light greeting flick. Executor sailed off pathetically.
Roll, thud!
Oof, that looked painful... But tough Executor, he'll live.
Carlos stared wordlessly.
What, mad he couldn't block my tentacle? Losing to a stellar beauty like me ain't shameful!
"...Playtime's over."
"Playtime? Playtime!"
Pfft~ Who's playing whom? You lost your Finisher!
Dyeing those fists blue paint—what else you got?
"White Night."
I was smirking at dopey Carlos when... the world froze.
Ground first: yellow earth turned snowy white.
Then air bloomed ice crystals, clumping into gorgeous ice flowers.
No way—this wasn't the finale I planned, but such a flashy one?
Today's full of shocks.
"Die."
Carlos stomped the earth.
Ripples surged, devouring all in white frost.
Hmm, no wonder he sent folks away. His frost devours P.V. virus—Executors ain't immune.
Tried moving. Frozen solid, duh.
Fine, shed and bail.
Bent knees slightly. Crackle—ice crystals shattered off.
Leapt hard. Frozen fake foot? Sacrificed to the ground.
Frost tendrils chased my escape.
Ice magic, ice magic—guy thinks he's an ice wizard! Why's it homing on me?!
Time for my ace.
Flooded mouth with blood, superheated it.
Held back before, but not now.
Unleashed flames scorching even my fake flesh.
Breath... incoming—!!
Scorching hellfire breath clashed with tier-8 ice spell White Out.
Melting inferno vs. absolute zero freeze! Unpredictable showdown.
Yeah, steam rising—can't see a damn thing.
Anyway, today's gig ends here. Drop the Finisher before bouncing—don't need suspicions!