021: Encirclement

Alona tossed a pump-action injector to John.

[Item: Combat Stimulant]

John pressed it against his body. The valve released pressure instantly, and with a soft hiss, the drug was injected into his system.

"Oh, shit."

John's vision blurred for half a second.

Then, every color became extraordinarily sharp. The fatigue from driving all night vanished completely, and even his prosthetic limbs felt flooded with newfound strength.

Damascus Camp was certainly well-funded. The fact that they issued such potent stimulants to their combatants spoke volumes about the critical nature of this trade.

"They're here."

Alona gripped her rifle tightly.

A sharp-angled transport truck drove into the valley. It had two rows of sixteen wheels, and its cargo bay was wider than an ocean freight container. John noticed the logo of 精氪 Heavy Industries on its side. He had assumed Nando was dealing with a corporation, but the two escort vehicles that pulled up were filled entirely with mercenaries. The origin of this cargo had suddenly become very suspicious.

Nando and his men were down below, acting as the reception party. The distance was too great to hear what they were discussing.

"Hm?"

John suddenly sensed a strange vibration.

A dozen vehicles packed with gunmen burst out from the surrounding hillsides. The roaring Exiles kicked up clouds of dust.

"Damn it, they really came. Engage!"

"Sarach's lackeys."

...

The comms were in chaos, and gunfire erupted instantly.

Bang, bang, bang!

Alona had already begun firing. The terrifying recoil caused the rocks around the cliff edge to chip away in pale streaks. It was a long-barreled kinetic sniper rifle. Every shot was earth-shattering. The high-precision armor-piercing rounds were small, but they could destroy internal structures upon impact.

John leaned out and saw the front of an Exile vehicle blown to pieces. Alona's cobalt-blue prosthetic eye was scanning for targets. She seemed to have picked up a signal; she suddenly turned, braced her rifle against the hood, and fired into the empty air behind them.

A colorful motorcycle surged up. The rider was shredded in mid-air, his chest pierced through. His arms and torso landed on the ground before he could even let out a sound.

"They've flanked us. How are you holding up?"

"Exiles are everywhere! They came prepared, goddammit!"

"We've been betrayed. This hellhole is an ambush site. Someone must have leaked the intel; they were all waiting for us."

"Bitch, RPG! Find cover!"

...

Sharp roars filled the earpiece. John and Alona looked toward the distance simultaneously. Three tail-flamed projectiles shot out from the opposite mountain.

[Weapon: K-39 Surface-to-Surface Missile]
[Status: Activated, No Hacking Module]

His prosthetic eye focused, scanning several times before he clearly identified the missiles streaking through the sky; the data was flickering.

[Type: Anti-Vehicle Weapon]
[Manufacturer: Kanmeier]

The missiles soared upward. Two plunged directly into the valley, while the third flew toward the rear of the camp, where the vehicles were most densely packed.

Boom!

A massive explosion echoed across the wilderness. The shockwave, laden with heat, rushed up the slope. The comms dropped out for a moment, and there wasn't a single stable spot to stand on. John was less than sixty meters from the nearest blast point.

The thick armor of their vehicle blocked most of the impact, but before they could steady themselves, the Exiles swarmed in like locusts.

Dense gunfire erupted from the back of the camp.

"Die, you freakish degenerates!"

"Doug is hit, but the position is holding."

"Those sons of bitches blew up my truck."

"Nando is still alive. There’s fire everywhere, the insulation is starting to melt. We need to clear the battlefield!"

...

John turned down the volume on his radio. He had experienced many robberies while working for Iron Bond Logistics, so he didn't panic. Finding his balance, he began to fire back.

The "Short-Snout" spit out a lethal volley of bullets. Exile blood sprayed into the flames. John’s scanner highlighted their outlines, allowing him to see the enemies clearly. These lunatics loved wearing sunglasses to look cool, mimicking gang members by mounting viewfinders on their foreheads. Their skin was tattooed with bugs and bones, and their hair was more vibrant than neon tubes.

The enemy info-tabs popped up: all Class-A felons, all equipped with standard-issue bulletproof vests and subcutaneous armor. The Exiles made their living outside the city, carrying their entire net worth on their bodies.

"Motherfucker, they're tough as nails!"

Someone on the radio shouted exactly what John was thinking.

Several heavy machine guns were set up in front. The Exiles hid behind burning vehicles and rocks, firing wildly. John was no stranger to ambushes; he didn't expose his position like a novice. Instead, he patiently adjusted his breathing...

He pulled the trigger. The bullets left the chamber and buried themselves into an Exile's face. The enemy's head shattered in his vision, his gun flailing wildly. Another guy preparing to pull a grenade was locked onto by John's prosthetic eye...

John emptied his magazine. He didn't aim carefully, and most of the bullets hit the cover, but the rifle's chip had auto-correction, and he managed to kill the target. A red grenade was picked up by the scanner, rolling onto the ground with what appeared to be a countdown timer.

Bang!

Several enemies were sent flying. Flesh and blood mixed with sand and stone scattered everywhere. Alona had already emptied a magazine from her heavy sniper rifle; not a single enemy vehicle had managed to get close. The drivers were either blown to pieces or their fuel tanks were punctured.

During a reload, John listened to the team comms—the vehicle position had been decimated by missiles, but everyone was recovering from the chaos and launching a counter-offensive.

There were Exiles in the rear, and they were exchanging fire.

The truck in the middle of the mountain pass had completely overturned and couldn't be driven away. A forced retreat meant losing both the people and the cargo. Another wave of Exiles was approaching from the front. If they arrived, they would surround everyone, and the casualty count would double.

"Retreat or push through?" John asked Alona. He had to consult his employer.

"I want to hit the ones coming from the front."

"That's high risk, Alona. Are you sure?"

"The enemies here are being suppressed; they're just stalling for reinforcements. I need to get to the front as soon as possible."

She seemed to have absolute confidence in her ability to kill. John thought for a few seconds—perhaps it was the effect of the stimulant—and chose to open the door and slide into the driver's seat. Alona tossed her gun bag into the back seat and climbed in through the window.

At the bottom of the valley, Nando was roaring, wielding a kinetic shotgun. The ground was littered with wreckage, and burning cars had blocked the road ahead.

Suddenly!

The sound of crumbling rocks fell from above. The earpiece filled with cries of alarm, and a lieutenant tackled him back into cover. Everyone looked up.

The Beast MT450 burst from the cliffside, its black chassis and four thick wheels plummeting downward. It slammed onto the slope, sliding through the sand and gravel. The rocks at the edge of the hill were overturned, and the overwhelming dust and falling boulders created an effect like an avalanche!

The front of the car hit some debris. It took flight, losing control just as everyone feared, but it didn't explode upon impact; instead, it traced a parabolic arc forward.

The men from Damascus Camp recognized the owner of the vehicle. The radio was filled with terrified curses. Nando thought he was used to lunatics, but as the MT450 landed, he subconsciously held his breath.

The vehicle's suspension compressed to its limit. The tires struggled like wild stallions. The entire vehicle stabilized, even accelerating to pull away from the rolling dust and rocks behind it.

Nando opened his mouth to speak...

The car was still accelerating, heading straight toward them. The mercenaries fighting in the valley dodged just in time; only two Exiles were crushed into pulp. The roar of the engine sounded like a beast howling.

The vehicle charged into the sea of fire, rolled over an overturned motorcycle, lifted its nose to race over the foundation of burning wreckage, and then smashed through the high wall blocking the road, speeding away!

The approaching Exiles were stunned. A group of lunatics with bizarre hair and exposed mechanical prosthetics all looked up, watching the growing shadow descend.

Gunfire erupted, and grenades exploded.

Nando listened to the commotion from beyond the wall of fire... He spread his hands, his expression complex. He opened his mouth for a long time, not knowing which curse to start with. Finally, he pursed his lips and said, "Fuck!"