Deployment (10)
'This is more annoying than I thought.'
Throb, throb—
As he rode the motorcycle up the mountain path, Min Cheol-woo kept massaging his right hand and frowning. It looked fine on the outside, but his index finger was the problem. The tendon that moved it must have snapped and healed over without reconnecting. Fixing it would require surgery. Nothing major or elaborate—just slice open the skin, stitch the tendon back together, and the blue drug would handle the rest. Any army medic could pull it off.
Until then, though, he couldn't fire with his right hand. He'd have to go full southpaw. 'Everything feels off.'
His holster, mag pouches, rifle—everything was designed for right-handers, so gripping and shooting left-handed felt awkward and clumsy. Reloading was a bit slower, but that was the only real issue. His aim hadn't gone to shit or anything. Luckily, his aim didn't care which hand he used.
"Looks like it's just over this ridge."
"Yeah. Let's hurry."
Gunfire grew louder by the minute. Cheol-woo and Yuri pulled over the bike. Up ahead, an isolated friendly company was under attack.
Time to carve 'em up—
The moment Yuri boldly charged over the ridge—
"Eek!?"
A chilling whirrrr echoed from the darkness. It was a new sound, but instinct sent a shiver down Yuri's spine.
Then—BOOMPH! Muzzle flashes erupted from the woods, and a massive hand yanked Yuri back by the collar from behind. Crimson tracer rounds—like laser beams—whistled past her face in a deadly swarm.
"What the—? What kind of fire rate is that!?"
"Minigun. Fires .308 rounds."
"I can tank that with my suit, right?"
"No way. That fire rate'll shred your plates and drop your durability to zero in seconds."
The rounds themselves? Her NewTontonMan suit could stop a thousand no problem. But over that, and protection went out the window. A minigun dumping near six thousand rounds per minute? And no guarantee there was only one. It was poison to a NewTontonMan.
"The guy firing it was in a full-body protective suit."
"EOD suit?"
"Yeah. Same as mine."
A minigun gunner wrapped head to toe in an EOD suit. No normal human could even stand in that getup, let alone fight. Only ability users could pull it off.
Word of his sister mowing down foes in her suit must've spread all the way to America. Straight-up copycats.
Against regular infantry, they'd be walking disasters. But Cheol-woo, who knew the EOD suit's limits inside out, just found it laughable. It stopped most rounds, but not the unmost. Stack enough plates, maybe it'd handle .50 cal. Anything bigger? No dice. That kind of firepower wasn't for grunts—it was shells or rockets.
But Cheol-woo had something that broke those rules.
"Sis. Just pull their aggro. Don't get hit, no matter what. Even 0.1 seconds of exposure means dozens of rounds in you."
"Got it."
Cheol-woo grabbed a massive custom case from the bike and climbed the ridge again. They locked eyes, nodded once. Ready.
Yuri crested the ridge.
She dashed sideways at full speed, and the darkness answered with a chorus of whirrrrs. Not one or two—multiple.
Yuri's face went sheet-white.
"Raaah!"
BOOMPH! A swarm like angry hornets erupted in unison. Six miniguns lit up the night, crimson tracers chasing her.
But why wasn't that woman ducking below the ridge? She just kept running.
Too late when the TontonMen realized.
"Enemy gunner to our rear!"
"What!?"
"The hell is that!?"
They whipped around. A guy with some weird rifle had appeared on the opposite side. For a split second, they thought recoilless rifle—but no, stock braced on his shoulder.
Fucking idiot—rifles are all armor-proof anyway—
ZZZAP! A crackling buzz tickled their ears.
ZZZAP? What the—
"Huh—"
"Ah?"
Flash! Blue light flickered, slamming into a TontonMan's chest.
What was that just now? He looked down. His EOD suit was pierced clean through—three front plates, through the body, out the back double-plate. A straight, perfect hole.
Thud. He crumpled.
What the fuck did I just see?
Too slow to process. The TontonMen froze, only the whirrs filling the silent woods.
Clack-thunk. Click. Heavy metal as the man reloaded. Finally, the TontonMen paled and swung their miniguns.
"What the fuck is that thing!?"
"Anti-tank sniper? Too small for that."
"Shoot! Keep shooting! Kill that first!"
BOOMPH! Miniguns roared, crossfire chewing his position.
He ducked below the ridge—then popped up elsewhere. BANG! Another blue flash.
It punched through one TontonMan's helmet, then skewered the next guy's side. Two dropped in a tangle.
"Goddamn it! Take cover!"
"No, you fucks! Get up and move! Hiding's pointless!"
Panic. Two dove behind trees and rocks.
Clack-thunk. Click. Blue flash vaporized a tree—and the TontonMan behind it.
Screee— The last one hugged his knees behind a boulder. Clack-thunk. Click. Flash punched the rock, shredding him and the guy behind.
'Shit! New weapon? What the hell did the Aussies bring!?'
The final TontonMan bolted over the ridge, escaping the blue death rays.
What was that? No clue. Laser? But he chambered something. Just blue flash and afterimage. Physical rounds? At that speed? No gun could...
"Railgun...!"
Crazy bastards! Fighting animals all day turned 'em nuts. A personal railgun! Had to report—
He grabbed his radio.
"Warthog, this is Warthog! Enemy has railgun! Man-portable! Guy's carrying and—huh?"
Something felt off. He froze. The hand holding the radio? Gone.
Spurt. Spurt. Blood from the stump. He looked up—and his vision spun.
"Fuck. Unlucky bastard."
His twitching pupils still stared. Yuri tsked, jammed her blade into his skull. Gross—why stare like that even decapitated? Dead or reflex, it pissed her off.
She pulled a whetstone from her pocket, quickly honing her blade. No resupply coming—had to make it last.
"Too slow. You assholes don't deserve the TontonMan name."
At first, she'd panicked thinking they were the real deal. But aside from the miniguns, nothing special. Suit, guns, battery pack—too heavy, weird gait, slow. Reactions? Laughable. Get within fifty meters, and minigun or not, she'd slice 'em without a scratch.
"Cheol-woo! Got the runner!"
"Nice one, sis."
Cheol-woo grinned at her waving from afar, then clack-thunk—opened the railgun's chamber.
Slid in a depleted uranium-tungsten round, hit the stop. Click. Chamber closed. Five shots down—fifteen left in a row?
Twenty continuous sounded low at first. But after feeling the power? Plenty.
'Recoil's no joke, though...'
Everything great. Except his shoulder throbbed like hell. Light machine gun hundreds of rounds? Fine. Railgun, five shots? Nearly shattered. A normal guy? Dislocated or broken on first pull. Insane weapon. Whoever suggested a stock was nuts.
"Guess these were the rear guard."
"Means we can smack the enemy right in the back of the head!?"
The TontonMen guarding the enemy's rear? Wiped without a radio call. Enemy unit now wide open?
Yuri licked her lips. Ambushing Aussies felt good, huh? Their turn.