CHAPTER 142 — UNDER ESCORT
The aircraft sat still on the runway, its engines silent at last.
Pieces of the runway were cracked where something heavy had struck earlier, the damage still fresh and sharp against the clean concrete.
Around it, soldiers stood in tight lines.
Rifles were raised. Barrels were pointed forward. Safety switches were off.
And yet, no one fired.
No one moved.
The soldiers had been trained for chaos, for panic, for sudden violence. This was worse. This was waiting. Every breath felt too loud. Every shift of weight felt like a mistake. They could see the armored figures clearly now, towering, still, impossible to ignore.
The tension was thick enough to feel in the chest.
Everyone expected something terrible to happen.
Nothing did.
Radios crackled all at once, the sound cutting through the silence like tearing cloth.
"Command to all units," a voice said, steady and firm. "Hold positions. No engagement. I repeat, no engagement."
The order was repeated again, slower this time.
"Full cooperation. No provocation."
Officers echoed it down the line. Squad leaders leaned close to their soldiers, speaking low and clear, making sure every word landed.
"No one fires unless ordered."
Some soldiers swallowed. Some tightened their grips.
All of them obeyed.
A senior Army officer stepped forward from behind the firing line. He was older than most of the others, his face lined, his movements careful but not slow. The insignia on his uniform marked him as someone used to being listened to.
He raised his hands slightly as he walked, palms visible, showing he carried no weapons and meant no hostility.
Every step toward the armored figures felt longer than it should have. His boots echoed against the runway, each sound too loud in the quiet.
He stopped several meters away.
Up close, the scale of them was even worse. Their armor was massive, worn, scratched, built for wars far beyond anything this place had seen. One of them, Metaurus, stood like a statue carved from steel. His shield rested easily at his side. The Iron Halo behind his head was dark, inactive, nothing more than a symbol.
The officer took a breath.
"Sir," he said, voice controlled, professional. "I am acting under direct orders."
He chose his words carefully.
"The United States military will assist you. We will provide escort to the White House. Roads are being secured now."
No bravado. No challenge.
Just facts.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then Metaurus gave a short nod.
That was all.
No threat. No reassurance. No speech.
The meaning was clear.
Acceptance.
Metaurus accepted it. The original mission Gaius had given them was to secure the decision-makers. In his mind, anyone in the same room as them was already effectively captured, restraints or not.
The officer let out a breath he did not realize he had been holding. He turned slightly and raised a hand.
Vehicles began to move.
Armored trucks rolled forward first, engines low and heavy. Military police vehicles followed, lights flashing but sirens silent.
A moving perimeter formed around the landing zone.
Beyond the runway, the city was already changing.
Roads were shut down in real time. Digital signs switched messages. Traffic lights went dark or stayed red longer than they should have. Police cars slid sideways to block entrances. National Guard trucks appeared where civilians had been driving only minutes earlier.
Drivers were waved aside.
Some protested at first, confused, annoyed.
Then they saw the convoy forming.
Phones came out.
People whispered.
No one screamed. No one ran. It did not feel like an attack yet. It felt like something worse, something official, something serious, something no one could argue with.
Near the edge of the airport, civilians watched as a massive transport truck rolled forward.
An M1070 HET.
Its flatbed was open, reinforced seats bolted directly into the frame. The metal looked thicker than normal, darker, recently checked and rechecked by nervous hands.
The armored figures were guided toward it.
As they climbed onto the platform, the truck groaned.
The sound was loud and deep, metal under stress. The suspension dipped visibly. The reinforced seats creaked as they took the weight.
But the vehicle held.
The Ultramarines mounted without help, movements controlled, practiced. They took their places in silence, armor settling with dull, heavy sounds.
The truck looked smaller with them on it.
Nearby, a group of civilians stared openly now.
One man leaned forward, squinting, phone held up with shaking hands.
"Hey!" he called out, his voice breaking the silence. "Isn't that the same guy who broadcast a threat to the government, demanding ten thousand tons of supplies?!"
Heads turned.
People looked again, closer this time.
The armor was not gold. It was blue, worn, marked by time and battle. The shape was similar, though. The style. The size. The presence.
Different helms. Different colors.
Same feeling.
"They're with him," someone whispered.
"They have to be."
"They're the same group," another said.
The realization spread quietly, like a cold wind.
This was not a drill.
The scale of coordination made that clear.
More vehicles arrived. More roads closed. Overpasses were blocked before anyone could reach them. Entire sections of highway were emptied.
Even seasoned officers exchanged looks.
This was beyond anything normal.
The M1070 HET was checked again. Soldiers tightened bolts one last time. Engineers ran their hands along the frame, feeling for cracks, weak points.
No one said what they were thinking.
That the truck might not survive the trip.
Naruto stood off to the side, hands in his pockets, watching.
No one told him where to go.
There was no seat for him on the transport. No clear order. Soldiers glanced at him, uncertain, their eyes flicking away when he noticed.
He did not look dangerous.
That somehow made it worse.
Eventually, after a brief and quiet discussion among the officers, a decision was made. Naruto would ride with the armored figures, even though there were no seats for him. No one quite knew what to do with him, so they chose distance and caution.
He shrugged and went along with it.
The convoy began to move.
Engines roared to life. Tires rolled over asphalt. The formation stretched out onto the highway, armored vehicles front and back, helicopters overhead.
Entrance ramps were blocked before any civilian cars could merge.
On a bridge leading toward the city center, traffic was already stopped. Soldiers moved among the cars, guiding drivers aside with hand signals and flashing lights. No shouting. No force beyond what was needed.
People complied quickly.
Inside the convoy, there was no conversation.
The Ultramarines said nothing. They did not move. They did not react to the city passing by around them.
Only the sound of engines, rotors, and distant sirens filled the air.
The White House perimeter came into view slowly, layers of security already in place.
The convoy slowed.
Then it stopped.
The Ultramarines dismounted in silence, their boots hitting the ground with heavy, solid thuds. They formed up and began to move as one toward the White House, Naruto following a few steps behind.
~~~
In the Lex Corp Tower
Diana broke the silence.
"After you get the supplies you wanted," she asked, "the mission will be ended then?"
Gaius did not hesitate.
"Yes."
Diana nodded, then asked another question.
"What about the third Mother Box that was held by the Atlanteans?"
Tony answered before Gaius could.
"There's no need for it," he said calmly. "The second objective can be completed with only one Mother Box. And I think we should at least leave a Mother Box to this world."
Diana considered that. Then she nodded.
"That makes sense."
She paused, then asked, "Should we now hand the Mother Boxes to the Multiversal Chat to make it complete and get us rewards?"
Tony nodded immediately.
"Indeed we should."
Gaius looked at them both.
"We should call Saeko and Mindy here first," he said. "They should be present."
Diana and Tony agreed without hesitation.
They all understood what came next.
Once the mission was complete, rewards would follow.
~~~
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