As the suicide squad leapt from the trucks, the nearest security team arrived.
Spotting them, the guards opened fire.
Rat-tat-tat!
Bullets rained down, sparking off the trucks.
"Watch out!" A squad member yelled, rolling behind the trucks for cover.
But bullets were faster. Three members were hit by the strange guns.
One lost his right arm, blown clean off.
Another took a round to the chest, a 20-centimeter hole punched through.
The third was worst—his head exploded like a watermelon, leaving a headless corpse.
The survivors, shaken, hid behind the trucks, breathing hard, faces pale.
They didn't fear death, only failing the mission and dying pointlessly.
"Shit! Three down already. Stark Industries isn't fucking around," One cursed.
"That gun… something's off with it," Another said.
"What's off?"
A bold member pried a bullet from a corpse and held it up. "Look at this caliber!"
The others leaned in, frowning.
"My God! That's… a 12.7mm anti-materiel round!"
"No way! Those are automatic rifles!"
"Don't forget, this is Stark Industries' security. They're weapons experts."
"Right. Other companies can't make 12.7mm autos, but Stark can."
"So… what now? The admin building's still hundreds of meters away."
"And we need to move fast. If we get surrounded, we're done."
The squad bickered, untrained and clueless against such firepower.
After arguing, someone suggested, "Screw it! Blast them with grenade launchers."
"Sounds good," Another agreed.
It was a plan—maybe useless, but worth a shot.
The squad's goal was chaos, not precision, so they carried heavy weapons, not light rifles.
They unzipped their packs, pulling out M32 grenade launchers, loaded with 40mm high-explosive or incendiary rounds—lethal radius 5 meters, effective range 15.
Click!
Six rounds loaded into the revolving chambers. Using the trucks as cover, they peeked out and fired.
This method was safe—no bullet risk—but wildly inaccurate. The squad didn't care.
Quantity over precision.
Twenty-plus members unleashed six high-explosive and incendiary rounds each, enough to crush even elites.
The trucks went quiet. The security team raised ballistic shields and cautiously approached.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
A muffled sound came from afar.
The guards looked up, seeing only stars.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Dozens of grenades rained from the sky, exploding around them.
"Shit!"
"Grenades!"
The guards panicked, raising shields to block.
More grenades launched from the front, landing at their feet.
Boom!
Explosions flipped several guards.
Before they could recover, another wave hit from above and ahead.
A 30-meter radius around the team became a kill zone, engulfed in blasts and thick smoke.
The barrage stopped. The squad held fire.
After a moment, no sounds came—no screams, nothing.
One member peeked out, seeing ten bodies strewn across the ground.
"They're down!" He shouted, excited.
"Really? Go check," Another said.
"Fuck…"
He grumbled but remembered his illness. No point arguing.
Dead either way—what's a minute early or late?
Resolved, he crouched and crept forward, eyes of his squad on him.
Checking pulses and eyes, he confirmed they were gone, then flashed an "OK" sign.
The squad grabbed their packs and sprinted toward the admin building, racing against time.
Stark's massive campus bought them a window—guards needed time to converge, or they'd already be surrounded.
*
Minutes later, the towering admin building loomed.
"Almost there! We're gonna make it!" A member shouted.
The squad saw victory, faces lighting up with dreamlike smiles.
But then, three armored vehicles rolled up from the road's end, each topped with a swiveling MK19 grenade launcher.
Night-vision systems locked on, and they fired.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
40mm high-explosive rounds tore through the squad, shredding them. Limbs and blood sprayed, the barrage cutting their numbers in half.
"Scatter! Find cover!" They screamed, diving for safety.
The armored vehicles hit like a sledgehammer to their hearts.
So close.
For the squad, success was inches away.
For security, disaster was narrowly avoided.
"We made it!" The security chief exhaled in the control room, watching the feed. But the thought of fallen comrades killed his relief.
"Chief, should we advance?" A guard asked.
"No," The chief snapped, annoyed. "Hold the line in front of the admin building. Keep them out. Leave the rest to Mr. Stark."
"Understood, Chief!"
The three vehicles lined up, blocking the road to the admin building.
An impassable wall.
But was it really unbreakable?
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You can read advance chapters and view R-18 images of the characters on pat reon page.
pat reon.com/GreenBlue17
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