Counter-Subversion Masquerading as Soldiers' Last Stand (Part 2)
Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tang!
Gunfire raged on relentlessly, leaving the Russian nationalists—who could no longer wield any weapons— with no choice but to flee.
'Pursue them!'
My urgent telepathic command spurred the mercenaries into swift pursuit; they locked in their pace before responding.
'Yes, sir!'
Their insistence on replying even amid my frantic order struck me as amusing.
"I never demanded multitasking from you lot. When did I say responses were mandatory?"
I immediately summoned my visible spike-launching drones.
"No mercy for humans here. Those bastards will end up using the Strange Zombies' weapons anyway."
The Jefferson family had heard of ID locks in theory, but they'd never witnessed one actually engaging in a crisis.
'That's why, in this dire pinch where their weapons suddenly fail them—no matter how well they've been briefed—they can't fathom it. Even if they've grabbed Strange Zombie gear on a whim, they won't deploy it right away.'
And if any among them were psionics users? All the more so. Psionics operated on mental fortitude, reason, and emotion; wielding ether demanded precise emotional control for peak effect. In this chaos, they'd be scrambling just to steady themselves, further sapping their efficiency.
"Hey, you fucking dogs—die."
Weeeeeng!
Kwaaaang!
I conjured an explosive orb and hurled it; the mere shockwave ignited their bodies in flames.
"Gaaahhh!!!"
Those hit dead-on vaporized entirely, corpses and all.
"Fuck, where the hell did that come from?!"
Puuuung!
Simultaneously, the high-frequency guided rounds I'd fired earlier materialized before their eyes, bored straight into their eyeballs, and detonated.
"What 'that'? Ahahaha!"
I mocked their naivety with a double-edged quip, savoring every bit.
"Kek! This is bad!! Fuck, grab whatever intel we can and bolt!!!"
Tang!
Crack!
"Aaaarghhh!!!"
I shot one bastard's leg clean off.
"Ughhh..."
Tang!
"Gaaaahhh!!!"
The other leg followed; I hoisted it up and crushed it in my grip.
Kwajijijik!
"Pathetic weaklings. Still don't get it? For vermin as dim and base as you to even think those foul eyes of yours can behold this noble visage— that's arrogance beyond your station!"
The leg crumpled mid-air, blood dripping in globs; in panic, they yanked out Strange Zombie needle guns and fired wildly.
Pfyoong!
Pfyoong!
Pfyoong!
But their shots couldn't pierce my psychokinetic barrier.
"Where you aiming?"
Swaeek!
"Gaaaahk!!!"
I charged forward, barreling into their clustered ranks with a body slam.
Kwajijijijijijijijijijijijijijijijik!
The shockwave erupted their blood, brains, organs, and bones in a cascading torrent.
"Ughhh..."
Trembling in terror, they unleashed indiscriminate fire: ray guns, beam rifles, cryo emitters, plasma cannons, chain high-voltage stunners, internal amplifiers, gravitic slug launchers, gravity controllers—all at once.
"Do I even register to you idiots?"
Whirrr!
I casually summoned drones in all directions, unleashing non-material realm spikes.
"Gaaahk!!!"
Chiiiiiik!
A mere graze from the spikes decomposed their entire bodies into ether—no big feat.
"Listen well. Think you can beat me? Then fight and die. Think not? Run. Any more questions?"
My bullets, of course, rained down instantly.
Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tang!
"Uwaaagh!!!"
Kwaaaang!
Not a single one escaped unscathed.
"Truly pitiable. You loathe a painless death that much?"
Chak!
I erected a non-material realm partition; anything touching it disintegrated on contact.
"Ughhhh..."
Shaking in abject horror, they clutched at their already-missing heads, arms, legs—blood pouring as they collapsed.
"I told you: I'm superior in every way. For trash like you to challenge me? Impossible unless that innate hubris overrides your feeble wits entirely. Plenty more to kill this round—who the hell are you to be special? Your superiors drilled it into you bloody well enough. I've never treated my men that way. And that's precisely why I'm innately superior from the root."
Ziiiiiing!
I dropped the psychokinetic barrier and unleashed heat vision beams at them.
"Gaaaahk!!!"
Chwaaaaruk!
"Heh heh heh... How's that? Can't even breathe now, can you?"
The shredded Russian nationalists, with nowhere left to flee, plunged deeper into the base instead.
But the further they went, the darker it grew...
"Ugh... What is this? Why's it so damn dark?"
"Aigoo... Can't see shit ahead..."
Pagwak!
"Kak!!! Gaaaaahk!!!"
"Wh-what?! Where are you, you fucker!!!"
Pujijik!
"Kuwaaaak!!!"
I neatly decapitated one; his blood showered the others like a spa treatment. Then I ripped out another's heart and slowly crushed it overhead.
Chwaaaaruk!
"Ugh... Wh-what's that iron stench?!"
"Uh-heh-heh-heh-heh..."
"Wh-who's there?! Who's laughing!!!"
"Uh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh..."
Chwaaaaruk!
"Uwaaaagh!!!"
"Sp-spare me!!!"
My nanomachines swarmed them, devouring from eyeballs outward in merciless frenzy.
"Uahaha!!!"
Ziiiiiing!
"Ueeeek!!!"
"Gaaaaahk!!!"
My heat vision seared their hollowed eye sockets one by one.
"Don't judge by appearances, you worthless meat balloons. Everything about you is utterly inferior. So quit the pointless thrashing—accept your fate meekly. It'll hurt less, feel less unjust."
Swipe.
I clustered the nanomachines and smashed their joints.
Kwang!
Kwang!
"Gaaaak!!!"
"Uwaaaagh!!!"
Puuuung!
A few heads finally burst under my heat vision, spraying blood fountains ceilingward in a misty scatter.
My nanomachines, gorged on their gore and flesh, paused at my command, withdrew, then resumed tracking the survivors' path.
Tang!
Tang!
Tang!
Three more bullets, guided to explode for the kill shot. Then I spoke.
"You lot think you can slip past without breaching my goggles? How empty are those skulls? Even this ki blast—does it look like it's straight from my hand? Same principle, morons."
I hovered lightly, seeking telepathic reports.
'Status?'
'Let 'em run on purpose. No kills.'
'Good. Where'd you herd them?'
'Where else? Conference room vicinity. After this thrashing, what intel do they think they can snag?'
'Fair point. They're fleeing for their lives anyway. Teleporting there. All clear?'
'Yes!'
'Execute.'
Paat!
We all teleported to the conference room area; the battered Russian nationalists staggered about nearby.
Chak!
'Hmm, ears perked, listening intently.'
'Commander, do we just wait here?'
'Relax. They'll think time's short—won't linger.'
Jeracle side——, Conference Room Interior
"...So you prioritize drawing in nations over securing citizens right now?"
"Yes, but..."
"Our identity's shaking from unrestrained force for protection and peace."
"We need camp expansion."
"Indeed. Spreading our domain to assert dominance—but that risks clashing with Phineas Maxwell Angelique's operational range."
"Infringing on his free zone. He might take offense."
"Time to cull numbers, then. Antimatter bombs remain cosmic threats—one misstep, and they chain-react galaxies away. Meant for planets originally, now potentially stellar-scale."
"True... Reports keep updating Strange Zombie casualties."
"Everyone remembers Cleas and Melin's Earth incident?"
"Yes. They hijacked human powers near borders for a massive payback."
"And what followed?"
"Of course."
"Bit embarrassing to air aloud, though."
"Total embarrassment."
"What madness..."
They grumbled in disbelief, but my icy demeanor—expressionless—silenced them swiftly.
"Not the point. Expansion time now. Deploy US and UN forces properly. Camps'll thin briefly, but that'll terrify foes more."
"Why?"
"First, ID locks prevent our weapons firing on us.
Second, we monopolize global arms. We could flood select groups with defectives effortlessly. They won't skip imports, but malfunctions? Unpredictable.
Third, our superweapons' might means—in WWIII— a sheathed sword's no threat. Peacetime, it's diplomatic leverage via uncertainty. Post-war? Raw, unyielding dominance crushes morale, no mercy shown. Succeed once defending a camp with minimal arms via quality? Suddenly, absent weapons look alien on the field. Overthinking becomes impossible—defense held, so offense must fail.
Finally, optics: show we're wielding power to avert war. We could've anytime but respected freedoms, spectated expansions, shielded innocents—consistent across individuals and nations for eight months. Right? To America's manifest destiny critics: they lack the power to do what they decry. Power's amoral. We wield it safer."
"Ah, I see..."
"Exactly. We supplied masses with essentials, nations with arms. Taxes from individuals funded those buys—so equal opportunity provided. Results differentiated choices. Simple."
"Even total control—stripping free will via ID locks and systems—can't hit 100% efficiency."
"What cadre ignores factions for pure orders? Soldiers skirt rules always. Armies exploiting constraints win. Failures blame others to hide incompetence."
"Just inferiority exploding—denying their own 100% fault."
"Precisely. Well grasped. Strategy proceeds thus. I'll contact Earth soon. Dismissed."
"Yes, Minister."
The four rose, striding unsuspectingly toward the exit—where the eavesdropping Russian nationalist infiltrators lurked.