Ramon, as well as the rest of the thousands of syndicate members that had yet to rush inside the compound, abruptly turned their heads. The entire front line stared at the smoking wreckage in absolute, stunned disbelief.
The , hulking body of Jett—a man that was widely feared across the district as an immovable wall of muscle—had just gone flying backward through the air like a ragdoll. He had crashed violently into the reinforced side door of an armored SUV, completely caving in the heavy steel frame upon impact.
The physical feat that had just occurred was almost as visually impressive as what Ramon had done with the lifted vehicle at the very start of the siege. In a lot of ways, it was actually even more impressive to the seasoned street thugs watching. The Billion Bloodline group hadn’t just fended off a random grunt; they had effortlessly swatted away the Black Hounds’ strongest, most terrifying frontline attacker with a single strike.
Although the hit was incredibly hard and heavy, Jett wasn’t dead. He could still move. Groaning, the giant forcefully pulled his embedded body out from the crumpled car door. He stumbled forward a half-step and started to cough violently. When he pulled his hand away from his mouth, small, dark specks of blood could clearly be seen pooling in the broad palm of his hand. Internal bleeding.
"Crap... that was quite the punch," Jett wheezed, wiping a streak of blood from his chin as he glared back toward the courtyard. "I knew that Red Jacket punk had some weird power, but absolutely not like this. That impact was fundamentally different from all of the times before."
Hearing Jett’s assessment, Ramon narrowed his eyes, staring intently at the person standing in the breach. Jett had gone up against the elite fighters of the Billion Bloodline group before, alongside Darius. If there was a person organically this skilled and physically devastating in their ranks, the Black Hounds would have surely mentioned it to him during their tactical briefings.
On closer inspection, through the settling dust, that’s when Ramon finally saw it. As Stephen stood back up straight, resetting his fighting stance, the red fabric of his jacket shifted. For a split second, the polished metal and hydraulic servos gleaming beneath his sleeve were exposed to the security lights.
"Those bastards... those absolute bastards!" Ramon suddenly shouted, his face contorting with a mixture of profound outrage and bruised ego. "They’re using my stolen exoskeleton! They’re actively using it against my own men! Those filthy thieves are so incredibly shameless that they are using the exact technology I personally made!"
Hearing Ramon’s furious outburst, it all finally clicked in Jett’s concussed head. He understood now. This Red Jacket was indeed an incredibly fast fighter, but in their previous encounters, it almost felt like the kid hardly had any raw physical strength at all, or was strangely holding back for some reason.
Jett vividly remembered the sound of the kid’s frail bones breaking against his fists in the past. But right now, with the mechanical exoskeleton equipped, Stephen wasn’t just using the raw, hydraulic power of the stolen machine. He was perfectly compounding that mechanical force along with his own supernatural, high-speed traits to create a devastating kinetic payload.
"Do absolutely everything in your power to rip that machinery directly from his dead body!" Ramon barked, pointing a furious, metal-clad finger at Stephen.
Jett wasted no time. He moved a little slow at first, rolling his thick shoulders as he was trying to assess exactly how much structural pain his body was currently in. But despite the cracked ribs, he was fully ready to go in again. He was ready to fight Stephen to the death, now completely aware that he needed to look out for a few lethal, mechanical tricks.
Standing amidst the groaning bodies of the vanguard, Stephen desperately wanted to smile at the tense situation that had just played out. He had successfully, significantly hurt Jett.
’Things are so different now. Things are completely different compared to before when we were just street kids,’ Stephen thought, his heart pounding a steady rhythm in his chest. ’There are a lot of good people relying on me to hold this line today. And I promised myself I would do absolutely everything I need to do to protect them!’
Stephen was completely ready. When he saw Jett advancing toward him again like an angry grizzly bear, he activated his Vow and charged forward, a blur of red fabric. He threw his mechanical hand out in a devastating straight punch aimed right at the giant’s face.
CLANG!
When the heavy strike landed, a deafening, metallic ringing sound echoed across the courtyard, sending sparks flying into the night air.
Looking up in shock, Stephen could see that Jett hadn’t just stood there to take the hit. Using his crazy, inhuman grip and raw strength, Jett had literally ripped the heavy, crumpled car door entirely off its reinforced hinges. He was now gripping the twisted metal frame, using the entire vehicle door as a makeshift, heavy-duty riot shield to perfectly block the mechanical attack.
"Did you honestly think I was stupid or something, kid?" Jett asked, his psychotic grin returning as he hid behind the steel barrier. "I have survived and gotten to this high position in the underworld for a very good reason. I’ll adapt and deal with every single little trick that you try and throw at me!"
Without warning, Jett violently swung the heavy car door like a , blunt broadsword.
Stephen’s eyes widened. He quickly channeled his Vow into his legs, blurring to the side just in the nick of time. He barely avoided getting hit by the slab of metal as it carved through the air where his head had just been.
He knew the grim reality: even though he had the hydraulic gauntlet for offense, his whole body wasn’t fully covered in an armored exoskeleton suit like Ramon’s. If he was actually hit by a multi-ton swing like that, his fragile human ribs would be completely shattered, dealing a , fatal amount of damage.
As Stephen gracefully pivoted to the side and raised his gauntlet, ready to launch a counter-attack at Jett’s exposed flank, a heavy, screaming mass suddenly flew through the air and crashed directly into him.
It was a living human being. Jett had casually grabbed a wounded, terrified member of the Gilt Rats off the ground and violently thrown him like a human bowling ball to disrupt Stephen’s footing.
Quickly, Stephen had to push the groaning man off of him using both of his arms, losing his tactical advantage. He scrambled, spun, and stood back up, creating distance.
’Crap... I’m going up against a ruthless monster who is willing to do absolutely anything to win, even sacrificing his own allies,’ Stephen thought, wiping sweat from his brow. ’This isn’t going to be nearly as easy as I initially thought. But then again... in this life, things are never so easy.’
Standing safely near the back of the convoy, Ramon was impatiently tapping his metal-clad foot against the asphalt. He could see that despite Jett’s brutal adaptability, the giant was still equally struggling to break the line.
Even though Jett fully knew the secret behind Stephen’s strength now, and was being incredibly cautious with his makeshift shield, he simply wasn’t able to cleanly take out his agile opponent with ease. The duel was creating a bottleneck.
"We’re entirely stuck at the damn entrance!" Ramon claimed, his frustration boiling over. "Obviously, those Bloodline defenders will physically tire out eventually under our relentless pressure, but there’s absolutely no point in continuing to allow my men to just get slaughtered and hurt like this while we wait."
Ramon was starting to rapidly rethink his overall strategy. Should he send some of the other eight exoskeleton-equipped research members directly into the meat grinder to forcefully clear a path? Or maybe he should personally walk in himself, using his full suit to crush the Red Jacket? Or he could even order Darius to send in his elite Black Hound executioners.
The one clear, undeniable thing was that the syndicate leaders would have to actually lead from the absolute front, rather than safely directing traffic from the back like they had been comfortably used to doing for a while now.
"Don’t worry about the frontline trash, Ramon," a chilling, muffled voice said.
A heavy, leather-clad hand was suddenly placed firmly on Ramon’s mechanical shoulder. It was Skull. The terrifying enforcer’s mask gleamed in the dim light.
"The main guys... Max and his little war council... they’re securely holed up deep in that building, right?" Skull asked, his voice completely devoid of panic or urgency. "Well, let me deal with them personally. I can easily slip through all of this chaotic frontline garbage without ever being seen by their security cameras."
Skull adjusted his leather jacket, his eyes locked onto the towering Fortis headquarters.
"It will take me exactly fifteen minutes to cut off the head of the snake," Skull said, turning and instantly melting away into the deep shadows of the perimeter wall. "If I’m not back out here in exactly fifteen minutes... then you can bring the army in."