Deployment (5)
"Don't stop—keep moving. Enemies about 3km ahead."
"Got it."
With Yuri in her NewTontonMan suit taking point, Cheol-woo sprinted full tilt toward the direction the shell had come from. In that split-second glimpse as the mortar round streaked in, he'd locked onto its trajectory, angle, and speed. Back-calculating from there, the firing position popped out easy as pie.
That left just one option: hunt down the mortar team.
Running wasn't on the table. The enemy had eyes on them in real-time via geosynchronous orbit sats. Stop moving, and they'd eat artillery till they were paste. Flee instead? They'd cut off the retreat paths ahead and encircle them.
Attack was the only way out alive.
"One-One-Sierra. Mike-Tango-Six-Two-Eight-One-Two. Eight-Seven-Two-Four-Six."
"Affirmative. Six-Two-Eight-One-Two. Eight-Seven-Two-Four-Six. Mix impact, proximity, and delay fuses."
"SteelRain here. Going radio silent."
The expeditionary force commander's voice cut in just as Cheol-woo yanked the radio and killed it.
Moments later, a chilling whoooosh ripped overhead as shells tore through the sky.
BOOM!
KRA-BOOM!
Thunderous blasts echoed as shells slammed home dead-on. That's when a faint tingle buzzed through Cheol-woo's fingertips.
Direct hit.
He was certain. From taking the incoming fire to triangulating their position and calling counter-battery—exactly 30 seconds. No way they missed. Even a near-miss would've wounded a couple. Unless they ditched their hurt and bolted like rabbits, there was no escaping now.
Cheol-woo pushed harder.
"S-sis... slow down a bit."
"Oh. Right."
But why was the gap widening? Sis was hauling over 100kg of armored exosuit—how the hell was she outpacing his max sprint?
Cheol-woo freaked. He could break 100m in the high 8s himself. Unsuited, she probably toyed with low 7s.
"Almost there."
Smoke rose and flames licked from what used to be a residential block. Tension coiled in Cheol-woo as it loomed closer—crumbled walls, jagged debris piles. Perfect defensive terrain, filthy and treacherous.
...
"Where the fuck are those bastards!?"
"One mile out and closing, sir."
The lieutenant ground his teeth, eyeing the two blurry afterimages tearing through the woods on-screen. Never dreamed they'd counter-battery that fast. He'd hosed the area with mortars, then prepped to bug out—then the barrage hit. Command post pulverized, mortars all scrapped.
No counter-battery radar, so how? Pure instinct? Bullshit precision like that?
XO was KIA, so maybe cut losses, tally casualties... but no—the sat feed showed them barreling straight here.
Payback time.
"Lieutenant. Mines set."
"Get your asses back and man the MGs! Those fuckers are almost on us!"
His crew scrambled from mine-laying into the rubble. Camo suits blended into the mess, dusk falling—visibility for shit. Invisible to attackers, but eight MGs? Enough to mulch an APC.
"Come on in, come on in. Time to avenge the major."
Fucking rebel scum. Trying to secede in the chaos? Dream on. Always hated California—time to normalize it. You'd be first on the menu, then the whole LA Base.
The lieutenant scanned through binos for their approach.
"Where now?"
"Half a mile... shit, they're gone."
"The hell you mean?"
"Lost contact. Not on sat anymore."
"What the—"
Slipped sat coverage? So they zigzagged under perfect tree cover, knowing exactly where the bird was?
Ridiculous.
The lieutenant swung binos frantically, hunting.
"Gah!?"
BOOM!
Massive blast ripped the minefield. Tank-killer force shook the earth, dust storm blooming. They stepped on one? One down at least, maybe both?
Dread flipped to glee—
"What the fuck is that?!"
"No way... RoboCop?"
Thud-thud-thud-thud—heavy footfalls charging straight through the dust. Not flanking, not rear—right into the killzone crossfire?
Troops froze a beat.
"Fire! Fire, you idiots! What the fuck!"
"R-right!"
MGs roared to life, tracers crisscrossing in a deadly web. No dive for cover—the suit accelerated into it.
Rip-rip-rip—chest took hits, but it blasted through faster.
What the—
"Too damn fast...!"
Even aimed ahead of its path, rounds sliced empty air where it had been. Lead the target like a bike at speed. MGs couldn't track; barrels spun too slow.
What the fuck is that thing!? Human? Fuck no.
"Align those barrels and shred it, morons!"
"Yessir!"
Barrels whipped around, synced—
Thwip-thwip—gunners slumped like puppets cut.
The lieutenant lunged to rouse one—helmet pierced clean.
"Crazy bastard...!"
He ducked killing intent—thwip, round grazed his cheek.
Sniper? From where? And silencing every muzzle flash the instant MGs barked?
Unreal marksmanship.
Ability user!
No normie pulls that. Headshots on every peek, single taps at MG cyclic rates? Motor-finger or what!?
'Got a rough fix on position.'
Graze wound, head holes—easy enough to bracket.
The lieutenant snatched radio, bellowing.
"10 o'clock! Bushes! All available fire, now!"
Rifles, MGs, grenade launchers—everything erupted, turning the area to ash.
Got 'em? Did we?
Hope swelled—then thwip-thwip, more troops dropped.
What the shit!? 1 o'clock now? Another thwip—more down.
Wait, 3 o'clock!?
"He's alone, right? So he's moving and shooting non-stop!?"
What a clusterfuck. Pinpoint sniping, never exposing, constant relocation? You a fucking chameleon!?
Troops, terrified, burrowed deeper—sniper countermeasures? Forgotten.
"Gasp! H-hang on—"
"Goddammit! A sword-wielding tin can!? That's cheating...!"
Suit had breached inner lines—slash-slash, screams everywhere.
Poke out to fight suit? Snipe city. Hide? Suit carves you up.
What the actual fuck do we do?
Mind breaking.
'Kill the suit first.'
No play for sniper now—deal with the intruder.
Lieutenant signaled troops. They nodded, fanned out.
One. Two. Three. Last finger folded—heads popped up.
Down quick—crack-crack, rounds punched walls, slowpoke's skull popped.
Now! Lieutenant shouldered AT4, rose.
Suit tanked .50 BMG? Impressive. But 84mm HEAT? No way.
Aimed, squeezed—WHOOSH, warhead hit near-sonic.
'Gotcha.'
No dodge. Even super-reflexes, blast alone shreds it.
He forgot cover, grinned yellow teeth—
KRA-BOOM!
Warhead detonated mid-air—solo.
"Huh?"
Suit unscathed, not a scratch. Lieutenant's face went slack, body locked.
What... the fuck just happened?