The battlefield was a chaotic mess of smoke, blood, and the charred remains of the giant flying mutants. The sudden arrival of the military had tipped the scales in favor of New Haven and Red Base, but it wasn't without complications. George stood among the wreckage, his rifle still in hand, eyes narrowed as the four-star General and his men continued to systematically eradicate the remaining mutants with cold efficiency.
One of the massive mutants, easily twice the size of the others, hovered over the battlefield, its powerful wings creating a whirlwind of dust and debris. Its leathery skin was scorched from the rocket blasts, but it continued to fight, letting out an ear-piercing screech as it dived toward the watchtowers. But before it could reach them, another rocket slammed into its side, sending the creature spiraling into the ground in a heap of twisted limbs and broken wings.
