Chapter 37: Armed and Dangerous

I immediately dove for cover behind my hydraulic machines, avoiding the ballistic projectiles that spat out of my assailants' guns. The bastards were dressed in exosuits once again, the Astral Crystal Exosuit and Astra Light Exosuits that the Han Industries was so famous for producing.

If this wasn't evidence that Justin Han was behind the attacks, I had no idea what was. Of course, the fucker could afford the best lawyers to argue his case and prove that there was no connection between his company and these assassins, and still have money to spare for recruiting new mercenaries. I couldn't help but feel rage surging through me.

Fumbling for my plasma gun, I tried to fire from behind cover, but the relentless onslaught of bullets from the exosuits forced me to keep my head down. If I so much as stuck my head out, it would instantly be perforated by the sheer amount of rounds from the exosuit-mounted machine guns.

These guys meant business.

Fortunately, so did I.

Without any hesitation, I flipped the switch on and activated my newly constructed hydraulic machine, which was currently bearing the brunt of the machine gun fire the idiots were throwing my way. Fortunately, my garage was a little too narrow for the bulky exosuits to flank me, but they were advancing row by row, with half the squad offering suppressing fire while the other half closed in on me.

Good. Get closer. They would fall for my plan.

The first hydraulic claw lashed out and seized one of the armored soldiers, its clamps crushing the poor guy. The armor wheezed and cracked, but the ferrocene layers withstood the tremendous pressure, allowing the wearer to survive.

Not for long, though. The hydraulic claw was slowly but surely crushing the poor guy, crumpling his exosuit like a can. The process would be gradual, but it would eventually squeeze the life out of the wearer. Already, sparks were flying from the cracking exosuit as systems failed and devices broke down. The wearer was screaming, his machine gun crumpling under the weight.

His comrades whirled around to help him, turning their fire toward the hydraulic claw. However, that wasn't the only threat. A second mechanical arm snapped out, its plasma torch flaring to life and blinding the exosuit wearer nearest to it. He – or she, given the feminine shriek that escaped her vocal transmitters – stumbled back, clutching at her ruined visor. Molten metal dribbled from the superheated helmet, rivulets of liquid silver spilling across the torso.

Unfortunately, the female soldier, despite her armor being largely intact, had fallen over. Her head had been trapped within a superheated helmet that was literally boiling her face off. Even if she survived, she would be hideously disfigured. Well, modern medical technology could allow her to fix that with skin grafts and rejuvenation transplants, but given how the plasma torch continued to blow across her melting helmet, I doubted she would be alive to attempt that sort of surgery.

A third mechanical arm whirred, its industrial chainsaw growling before biting into another armored soldier. Despite the protection he wore, the armor gave way to the glowing chainsaw, its monomolecular edge wrapped in a disruptive power field that split apart materials at the atomic level. The thick armor was only capable of delaying his death by a few seconds before his body was cleaved apart into two pieces.

When a fourth mercenary lunged at me, another robotic arm descended, its laser drill activating. Before the soldier could realize what was happening, a cauterized hole had been punched through his visor, burning through his head. He dropped like a rock.

"Back, back!"

The leader of the hit squad was yelling orders, to no avail. His men didn't heed his instructions to fall back and were being harassed by plasma torches and other hydraulic arms. Another of his subordinates fell to the monomolecular chainsaw, his body cleaved from shoulder to hip. Even his exosuit offered him no protection from that.

"Fall back, damn you!"

Realizing that the casualties were mounting, the mercenaries finally deigned to obey their squad leader and retreated in a staggered formation. He continued to issue several combat instructions, trying to get them to reform their firing discipline and renew their attack after reaching a safe distance.

He had inadvertently made himself a target.

At my command, one of the hydraulic arms whipped out and seized the squad leader by his head, crushing his helmet. He flailed desperately for a few moments, his helmet providing some defense, but the metal began to crack and give way under the tremendous pressure. He hefted his arm-mounted machine gun up and fired almost indiscriminately, but the high caliber rounds simply left dents upon the mechanical contraption.

Even so, I couldn't help but wince. By the time this battle was over, my newly built machine would have suffered severe damage.

Fortunately, they were a lot more durable than I gave them credit for. Despite weathering the heavy abuse from the relentless machine gun fire from my assailants, they continued to work and operate, distracting the paramilitary operatives from their real target.

With the suppressive fire finally dying down, I could move out and take aim. Resting my plasma gun against the console, I squeezed the trigger and incinerated one of the exosuit wearers. Shifting my aim, I disintegrated half of the squad leader's body after I was forced to duck under his indiscriminate gunfire.

To my satisfaction, his machine gun was vaporized as well. The high caliber rounds detonated, sending shrapnel all over the garage. I reflexively took cover again, but the other paramilitary soldiers weren't as lucky.

On the other hand, their exosuits protected them from the shrapnel and ricochets. None of them appeared to be severely hurt from the ferocious explosion, with the surfaces of their armor sustaining little more than scratches. Almost as if they were ignoring them, the remaining soldiers turned their attention to demolishing my machine.

"Hell, no, I've only just built that!"

Furious, I let loose a volley of superheated plasma that disintegrated heads or vaporized arms. The latter spun, still barely alive despite such grievous wounds. Obviously the former wouldn't be able to survive losing their heads and they dropped to the ground with a satisfying thunk.

I couldn't help but shook my head. That was what they got, bringing ballistic rounds instead of energy weapons. If they had laser weapons, they would have easily cut through my machines.

The hydraulic arms continued to weave through their diminishing numbers, though their movements lagged a lot more than before because of the immense damage they had taken. A plasma torch spluttered out, fizzled and died. One of the hydraulic claws fell silent, crashing down upon one of the soldiers and pinning him to the ground. He grunted as he tried to lift it up, the servos and bundle-fibers in his exosuit augmenting his strength, but it would be a while before he could free himself.

While he did so, I eliminated the rest of his comrades with methodical, precise fire. I wasn't a marksman, so quite honestly, I missed most of my shots. But it didn't matter. The overwhelming firepower of my M124 solar plasma rifle meant even if I only hit half the time, those that did hit were enough to obliterate my foes.

Even the slightest graze by the star stuff would leave severe injuries.

The guy hefted off the claw and raised his machine gun to fire at me, but I was keeping track of his progress. Now that my hydraulic claw was out of the way, I shifted my plasma gun and fired in his direction, taking care not to hit my machine.

That said, I couldn't afford to hesitate. When it came to choosing between my life and my precious machines, I had to select the former. If I died, everything was over. But as long as I stayed alive, no matter how irreparably damaged my devices were, I could always build new ones.

"Huff…"

Lowering my plasma gun, I took a deep breath and glanced around. The entire squad was dead. Well, almost the entire squad. At the last moment, my remaining hydraulic claw had seized one of the surviving mercenaries and held him in a vice grip. By fortune, one of my many plasma shots had only grazed his arm, turning his machine gun into molten metal that ruined his gauntlet, but otherwise he was still very much alive.

Approaching him, but keeping a wary distance in case he made use of the bulk and weight of his exosuit to clobber me to the ground – without armor to protect me, a single strike from his armored frame was enough to break every bone in my body – I kept my plasma gun trained upon him.

"Who hired you? Who sent you here to kill me?"

The mercenary glared at me through his visor. Even though I couldn't see his face, I could tell that he was scorning me. I could sense the defiance radiating off him.

I moved one of the mechanical arms over and ignited the plasma torch, slowly and carefully cutting his mask apart. He howled in pain from the heat, but I made sure to regulate the distance so that the plasma torch wouldn't kill him like it did to his comrades.

Making a neat, precise incision, I had the robotic plasma torch split the guy's helmet apart. Both halves of the ruined metal fell on either side of him, revealing a burned and blistered face. Despite my caution, I was unable to avoid hurting him.

Well, served him right. The fucker tried to kill me. If I ended up inflicting a little pain on him, that was good.

"Who hired you?" I repeated. The guy spat at me but I dodged out of the way. He continued to sneer.

"Do you think I will tell you?"

"Why not?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"Professionalism. We might not be real soldiers, but we will never sell out our clients." The mercenary turned away, his lip curling. "Go ahead and kill me. You will get nothing out of me, even if you torture me."

"Nah, I won't torture you," I replied dismissively. "I'll be handing you over to the proper authorities."

Then I sighed.

"But still. I don't understand. I didn't do anything to earn anyone's grudge. Why do they want to kill me so badly? What did I ever do to them?"

"Oh, that's not it." the mercenary chuckled. "They just feel threatened. Your inventions are replacing everything else in the military market. At this rate, you will end up monopolizing all of the defense contracts."

"They give me too much credit." I sighed and shook my head in disbelief. Then I grinned. "So it was Justin Han, after all."

For a moment, the mercenary stiffened, a self-reproaching glint in his eyes. Then he squared his shoulders and clenched his jaw. "I never said Mr. Han was the one who hired us."

"You didn't say it wasn't him either," I replied and turned away, even as soldiers from the national army burst into my garage and fanned out. Their jaws dropped as they stared at the carnage, stunned at what had taken place here. I simply waved at the sole survivor of the hit squad. "Take him away. I'm sure your commanders will have a lot of things they want to ask him."