Location: District Twelve—Burned-out Construction Site, East Wall Perimeter
The ambush had shattered the Resistance's line. Sirens wailed in the distance, flames spat and popped, and the acrid scent of smoke and gunpowder hung in the air. Beneath a muted streetlamp, Marco and Bullet stood locked, ten paces apart.
They had been fighting only moments before.
The impact force alone had generated a shockwave spreading outward like a cannon discharge, ripping up adjacent walls and blowing out all the windows in a two-block radius. Sand blew blindly through the air like a sandstorm.
A few government guards rushed out of the alleyway with guns cocked—only to stop when Bullet yanked his head around toward them again, eyes burning like hot embers.
"Interfere in my battle, and I'll crush your skulls in myself."
The guards halted at once, trembling.
"B-But sir—"
"I said MOVE!"
They faded back behind cover, and their leader stood alone.
Bullet cleaned blood from his lip and let loose a deranged cackle, arms spread wide.
"That was great! Years since I've had a real-to-gosh battle." "Now come on and attack me, Marco!"
Marco didn't answer verbally. He charged forward.
Round One: Blade vs. Iron
Marco twisted in mid-air, his metal wings unfolding wide. In an instant, his right arm changed into a serrated, curved blade, cutting through the air with precision.
Bullet stomped his feet and bellowed—
"HARDENING LEFT!"
His left forearm went dark and bubbled like liquid metal, freezing instantly as Marco's sword sliced into it—sparks on contact. Bullet grinned and swung his right fist like a battle-axe into Marco's ribs, sending him crashing into a steel girder with a horrific crunch. Marco's breath hitched. But he didn't falter. He rolled off the impact, twisted his legs, and slammed both heels into Bullet's knee—shattering the pavement under them. Bullet chuckled, cracking his neck, nose bleeding as they clashed once more.
The metal ring echoed across the city's destruction as Marco's sword arm clashed with Bullet's fortified forearm. Sparks flew from the impact, and then a shockwave shattered windows in the vicinity.
Marco whirled in mid-air, metal wings slicing through the air as he brought the assault home. "You're lagging," he breathed savagely, slanted eyes glinting through his eagle-shaped helm. "Is that all the great 'Bullet' has to give?"
Bullet backed away, one knee sagging. "Tch. Hardening Left Leg!" His leg became a deep iron gray, just in time to intercept Marco's oncoming blow.
But Marco was already by him.
In the blink of an eye, he reappeared behind Bullet, twin blade-wings striking out in an X-slash. Bullet roared, crossing his arms to deflect—but he was thrown through a concrete pillar.
The dust hadn't settled before Marco was already approaching, footsteps calm and controlled.
"You're not built to keep up with me," Marco said. "You were never meant to be on the frontlines. You're a blunt instrument—nothing more."
Inside the rubble, Bullet coughed, blood in his throat. "You bastard!"
Then his hand reached into a compartment hidden beneath his armored belt.
Marco paused.
From the ruins, Bullet pulled out a small vial of iridescent red serum. His breathing was strained as he looked at it.
The words of Dr. Rhane echoed in his head.
"Use it when you're outnumbered. It won't last. But you'll be a god for five minutes."
Marco narrowed his eyes. "What did you just—?"
The needle self-injected into Bullet's neck.
His veins pulsed with heated steel.
A half-agony, half-ecstasy cry tore from Bullet's throat as his muscles bulged, his flesh rippling, cracking, then knitting shut in hard, black, armor-plated plates.
His eyes burned a feral red.
Marco's wings exploded open, his instincts screaming. "You idiot. You popped one of Rhane's enhancers?"
Bullet stood, steam curling from his body.
"Hardening: Full Body."
For the first time, his entire frame glowed metallic—thicker, denser, and sharper than before.
He struck.
Faster.
Harder.
The ground split beneath his feet as he leapt at Marco with a crushing blow. The commander's wing barely swept his swords to parry the charge—only to be knocked flying, slamming into the falling building.
Marco cursed as he slid through brick and steel. "Shit. That thing."
Bullet reappeared from the cloud of dust, his voice congested by his new form. "Five minutes, Blade-boy. That's all I need to rip those wings apart."
Marco smiled to himself, a small crease coming beneath his helmet.
"Then I just have to break you four."
Round Two: The Breaking Point
Marco staggered up, coughing. His coat was torn. But in that moment… he smiled.
"You call that hard? You're all bark and metal plating."
His wings burst outward—and they weren't just blades now. They spun like rotating saws, the edges glowing faintly from kinetic heat.
He charged.
Bullet prepared to meet him—but Marco changed direction last second, slashing in a zig-zag pattern too fast to track.
SLASH! A wound tore across Bullet's bare thigh.
SLASH! His cheek split as Marco appeared behind him.
Bullet roared and twisted—
"FULL HARDENING: UPPER TORSO!"
A dark polish slicked his chest, shoulders, and arms, flashing like black glass.
He scooped up Marco in mid-swing and battered him through a wall, and into a car, and onto the ground.
CRACK! CRUNCH! SLAM!
"STAY. DOWN."
He flexed a fist—Marco vanished.
"Too slow," Marco whispered behind him.
Then—
"BLADE BURST!"
Scores of short blades erupted from Marco's spine like shrapnel. The explosion of metal staggered Bullet, his armored body now scarred with gashes and man-shrapnel lodged in it.
The two men gasped. Bleeding. Bruised. The space around them was ravaged—smoldering, broken, drenched in crimson.
Bullet's chest heaved and subsided. Blood dripped down his chin.
"I'll leave you this… You've got a bite. But I'm not down yet."
Marco rolled his shoulder, rotating the injured arm. One of his wings was torn—torn at the base.
"Neither am I."
Then, both men charged again, a final battle coming on, one that would see only one man standing when the dust settled.