Chapter 11: I Am an Army by Myself!
In the Brilliant Star Square, chaos erupted. Several parked police cars were engulfed in flames, and panicked civilians scattered, seeking refuge from the violence. The gunmen were strikingly precise, taking down police officers and security personnel, yet sparing the fleeing crowd. This wasn't a random assault; it was the work of highly trained mercenaries, their cold efficiency chilling to behold.
Lucy and Thomas, caught in the midst of it all, had been planning to celebrate after the summit. But instead, they found themselves huddling at a distance, terrified and unsure of what to do as the police struggled to regain control.
Meanwhile, inside the Bowen Hall, the situation was no less dire. An explosion had reduced part of the hall to rubble, and Cromwell, visibly shaken, turned pale. "Follow me," he managed, his voice tight with fear. "There's a hidden passage here." He quickly led the group towards a concealed exit.
Robert glanced at the wounded scattered across the floor, their pained moans filling the air. Ignoring them, he headed toward the passage. It was a sobering reminder of how, in the face of catastrophe, survival instincts often trump compassion.
As they reached the hidden passage, a new threat emerged. A group of heavily armed mercenaries burst into the hall, systematically eliminating the remaining security and rounding up the horrified attendees.
"Good thing I knew about this passage," Cromwell muttered, picking up the pace.
Shirley Hill, the president of a renowned film company, looked back anxiously. "What about the others? We can't just leave them!"
"We can't worry about them now," Cromwell replied, moving briskly, his fear of the gunmen outweighing his sense of duty. But they hadn't gotten far before they encountered a trio of mercenaries, blocking the narrow, dimly lit passage.
"So much for a hidden passage," Robert smirked grimly.
Cromwell's eyes widened in shock. "This… this shouldn't be possible!"
"Hands up," the tallest mercenary commanded coldly. "We aren't here to kill you, but any sudden movements, and I might reconsider." He pointed his weapon menacingly at Cromwell, who, reluctantly, lifted his hands away from the holster he'd been inching toward. There was no mistaking the desperation in his expression—escape was no longer an option.
Robert had harbored suspicions about Cromwell's involvement, but the look of sheer bewilderment on the man's face suggested otherwise. It seemed Cromwell, too, was blindsided by this ambush.
"There must be a mole," Cromwell said angrily, his voice strained. "Who sent you?"
"I'm afraid that's classified information," one of the gunmen replied coolly. "But you'll find out soon enough."
As they closed in, Robert was gripped by a fierce internal debate. Should he risk transforming into Soldier 76, the legendary combatant, and confront these attackers? The odds were in his favor if he transformed, but the possibility of failure, however slight, could mean a bullet in his head. Unlike McCree, Robert lacked lightning-fast reflexes; he couldn't bank on hesitation from his enemies. Transforming would be a risk, but if he allowed himself to be taken, survival was far from certain.
He made his choice.
"Fine. We'll go with you," Robert said, moving forward with hands raised. As he approached, he glanced back at Cromwell and the others, still paralyzed by shock.
"Come on, people. This is our only option for now," he urged.
The lead mercenary sneered. "At least one of you knows how to behave."
The rest followed, subdued and reluctant. Seeing their captives had submitted, the mercenaries lowered their weapons, intending to escort them to a secure location. But when one of them moved to seize Robert's shoulder, he reacted instantly.
"Hands off!" Robert spat, twisting out of the mercenary's reach and forming his fingers into the shape of a gun.
The startled mercenaries raised their guns, only to lower them again with amused smirks. "Cute," one scoffed, reaching for him once more.
"I said, hands off," Robert growled. In that instant, he transformed into Soldier 76, a pulse rifle materializing in his grip. With a swift motion, he unleashed three micro rockets, their blue tails spiraling through the air toward the attackers.
Boom!
The rockets struck with devastating precision, throwing the three mercenaries to the ground, their bodies shattered by the blast. Robert, too, was pushed back by the force of the explosion, but he quickly regained his footing, aiming his rifle at the fallen mercenaries.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Blue flames erupted from his pulse rifle as he fired in quick succession, each bullet finding its mark. Within moments, the attackers lay motionless, their bodies riddled with holes.
Robert inserted a fresh energy crystal into his rifle, reloading with practiced ease. He could have taken down the mercenaries with a few precise shots, but he had chosen this brutal approach to charge his tactical eyepiece. He'd discovered the eyepiece's energy-gathering properties at the bar incident: energy bullets generated a strange, invisible energy upon impact, which his suit absorbed to fuel his eyepiece. His tactical eyepiece was now 50% charged.
Footsteps echoed in the passage, drawing closer. Robert raised his rifle, alert and ready to fire at any moment.
The scene felt eerily familiar, and he suddenly recalled why—it was just like the intense firefights he used to imagine as a kid, those moments in the narrow iron corridors of a transport ship in games. Back then, players would ambush each other, shooting wildly at anyone who dared to enter. But seasoned players eventually learned to toss a grenade into the corridor first, forcing ambushers to scatter.
Boom!
A grenade landed at his feet. Robert's eyes widened as he dove forward, tackling Cromwell and the others to the ground, shielding them from the blast with his own body. Thanks to his Soldier 76 enhancements, he absorbed most of the shock, feeling only a slight tingle as shrapnel bounced harmlessly off his suit.
Rising quickly, Robert leveled his pulse rifle, unleashing a precise volley as more mercenaries emerged from the shadows. Fueled by memories of childhood games and the thrill of real combat, he mowed down the intruders, each shot as swift and deadly as his resolve.
With his tactical eyepiece now fully charged, he was primed for anything.
"I am an army by myself," he declared, turning back to the stunned group. Their expressions were a mixture of awe and fear, as if they were witnessing something out of a blockbuster.
"Move!" he commanded. "This place isn't safe."
Cromwell was the first to recover, a fanatical gleam in his eyes. "Soldier 76!" he breathed, as if meeting a hero.
"I'd advise you to keep quiet about this," Robert warned, his voice cold. "If word gets out, I may have to silence you myself."
The weight of his words chilled them, and they nodded quickly, though the respect in their eyes was undiminished. To them, Mr. Robert, alias Soldier 76, was both terrifying and extraordinary.
Robert glanced toward the exit. "There are still people in the hall who've helped me in the past," he said. "If you're coming with me, let's go save them."
Shirley nodded, resolute. "Soldier... Mr. Robert, I'll go with you."
Cromwell nodded as well. "Me too."
Others echoed their willingness to follow, sensing that any hope of survival lay in sticking close to Soldier 76. The passage had proven unsafe, and returning to the hall was their best chance. With Soldier 76 leading them, they felt an overwhelming sense of security.
For them, Soldier 76 wasn't just a guardian; he was a symbol of justice. And justice, they believed, would prevail.