Chapter 77- Out of Control

The fog lit up with flashes of light, the bursts of rockets and gunfire illuminating the thick, oppressive mist. The trucks were firing back, suppressing the attackers with everything they had, but it wasn't enough. The enemy was well-coordinated, disciplined in their assault.

"Hold the line!" Kellen shouted as the truck swerved violently to avoid another explosion. "We can't let them break us apart!"

The trucks sped up, trying to outmaneuver the enemy, but the rough terrain made it difficult. The convoy was struggling to hold its formation, the lead vehicles swerving to avoid incoming fire, while the rear was taking the brunt of the assault.

More enemy vehicles closed in, their machine guns chattering relentlessly, spraying bullets that pinged off the trucks' armor. A stray bullet whizzed past Rion's head, too close for comfort. He ducked instinctively, his heart skipping a beat as he felt the heat of the passing round.

His electromagnetic rifle was long-range, meant for precision kills, not close-quarters combat. He needed to get some distance, needed to find a better vantage point, but the high speed chase made that impossible.

"Forger, can you take out their spotter?" Kellen asked, her voice slightly muffled due to the chaos but still filled with that sharp authority.

Rion didn't reply immediately. His eyes darted from one blurred figure to another, looking for any signs of someone coordinating this madness. His visor pinged as it picked up the faint silhouette of a figure standing further back, surrounded by three other figures, one of them handling a large scope attached to a modified rifle.

Found you...

Without hesitation, Rion adjusted his scope, dialed in, and fired. His bullet tore through the fog, hitting its mark. The figure crumpled to the ground, their equipment falling to the side. The others immediately scrambled, trying to reposition themselves, but he fired another shot, taking out one more before they could react.

"I got the spotter," he said, pulling back into cover as bullets ricocheted off the truck's frame, close enough that he could hear the metallic twang in his ears.

"Nice work," Kellen responded, her voice cold but appreciative. "Keep it up. We need every edge we can get."

Vance, in the meantime, was on the other side of the truck, emptying magazine after magazine into the fog. "These bastards don't quit, do they?"

"Quit? They're having the time of their lives," Rion muttered sarcastically as he ducked under a spray of bullets. His voice remained calm despite the carnage unfolding around him. "We're practically hosting a target practice here. What's not to love?"

Vance let out a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, well, if they wanted a party, they should've at least sent an invitation. Rude as hell."

Rion gave a dry smirk, but his mind was focused elsewhere. They couldn't hold out like this forever. They were burning through their ammunition, and even if they could fend off the current wave, the odds were still against them. Something had to give.

As if on cue another rocket fired, this time hitting one of the lead trucks dead-on. The explosion was deafening, the shockwave ripping through the convoy like a tidal wave. Rion barely had time to brace himself before feeling the blast ripple through his bones, rattling the truck and knocking the sniper rifle from his hands.

He cursed under his breath, scrambling to retrieve it as the vehicle swerved violently. The driver was shouting something—probably about losing control—but Rion's ears were still ringing from the explosion, and the words came out garbled.

The vehicle flipped over violently as it careened off the road,reduced to a smoking, flaming wreck, its occupants likely dead or incapacitated.

"Dammit!" Rion muttered, finally securing his grip on the rifle. His arm throbbed, the sharp sting of a bullet that had punched through his defenses becoming more apparent now that the immediate threat had passed. Blood trickled down the sleeve of his bodysuit, but the wound wasn't deep. He could ignore it.

"They're thinning us out!" Vance snarled, his assault rifle rattling as he fired bursts into the mist. "We can't keep taking hits like this!"

"Nobody stop!" Kellen barked over the comms. "You'll be next if we slow down. Keep moving!"

One of the engineers in the backseat let out a scream as they veered around the wreckage of the burning vehicle, the intense heat licking at the windows. Their tight formation had begun to fracture and their enemies weren't letting up, making it so that they were running out of room to maneuver.

Rion's heart pounded in his chest as the convoy pushed forward, the fog closing in around them. But even as the gunfire raged on and he racked up kills like OpTic members in a lobby full of noobs, something else caught his attention. A strange sensation, like a ripple in the air, brushed against his consciousness. It was subtle at first, almost imperceptible, but it quickly grew stronger.

"What the hell…?" Rion muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he tried to make sense of the feeling. It wasn't just the adrenaline or the chaos of the battle. It was something else.

Before he could fully process it, the air around them seemed to change. The distant hum of electricity filled the atmosphere, a vibrating thrum that seemed to resonate through the very ground beneath them and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

The next thing he knew, the convoy's electrical systems went haywire. The dashboard meters cracked, the lights flickered, and the engine sputtered and died. All at once, the trucks skidded wildly out of control, the tires screeching against the dirt road as they swerved and collided into each other like a pack of drunkards.

{Kellen! We've lost control!} one of the drivers shouted over the radio, his voice laced with panic. He slammed his foot down on the gas pedal, but it was no use. The truck continued to veer wildly, like a drunk stumbling down a street.

"What the hell is happening?!" Vance shouted, his voice barely audible over the grinding metal and chaos around them.

Rion didn't have time to answer. The truck veered off the road, its tires screeching as it crashed into the trees. Everything happened so fast—the world flipping upside down, the violent jolt of the vehicle rolling over, the sound of metal crunching and glass shattering. Rion's body was thrown around the interior of the truck like a rag doll, his head slamming against the roof, then the side, then back again.

It felt like the world had turned into a washing machine, tumbling him over and over until he lost all sense of direction. The only thing he could do was try to relax, to let his body go limp and roll with the momentum. Fighting it would only make the impact worse.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the truck came to a stop, landing on its roof with a bone-rattling crash. Everything went still. For a moment, Rion didn't move, his ears ringing. The only sound was the faint crackling of the damaged engine and the distant hum of the attackers' engines.

His mind slowly came back online, sluggishly fighting against the fog clouding his thoughts. Time seemed to move slower, every sensation amplified by the adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

He could feel the tension in his muscles as they protested, the sting of cuts scattered across his skin, and the persistent throbbing of bruises forming beneath his clothes. His seatbelt had dug into him hard during the crash, and the metal buckles had pressed uncomfortably into his shoulder and waist, leaving angry red marks.

His vision wavered as his eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the dim, gray light filtering in through the shattered windows. The overturned truck groaned and creaked under its own weight, settling further into the dirt, as if even the vehicle itself had given up.

For a moment, Rion simply hung there in his seat, upside down, the blood rushing to his head in a way that only made him feel more disoriented.

"Forger, you good?" Vance's voice broke through the fog, a muffled echo in the back of his mind.

Rion blinked, trying to bring his senses back online. He sucked in a breath, wincing as he did so, his ribs protesting the movement. "Peachy," he muttered, his voice dry and raspy.

His hands fumbled for the large case lying on top of him, fingers numb from the awkward position.

The impact of moving the case off his body sent a jolt through his already bruised body, but Rion gritted his teeth and fought through it. He lay there for a second, staring up at the crumpled, twisted ceiling of the truck, as if gathering the willpower to move again. The throbbing pain in his head made it hard to think clearly, but there was no time for weakness.

Outside, the muffled sounds of the world began to filter back in, snapping him out of his daze. Shouts. Footsteps. The distant rumble of engines. Rion's instincts kicked in, pulling him into focus. He pushed himself up, ignoring the discomfort that flared up from his injuries.

Rion strained his ears, picking up on the voices of their attackers. They were getting closer, their movements slow but deliberate, like predators stalking wounded prey. He could hear at least a dozen distinct voices now, all communicating in sharp, efficient bursts.

He swore under his breath. "Vance, we've got company," he said, crawling towards the shattered window to get a look outside. The glass crunched under his hands as he pushed through, but the pain barely registered. He had more important things to worry about than a few cuts.

The fog still clung to the landscape like a ghostly blanket, making it hard to see much. But he could make out dark shapes moving through the mist, the distinct silhouettes of men with guns.

"How many?" Vance's voice was sharper now, the grogginess replaced with a more urgent tone.

"Too many." Rion's jaw clenched. "We need to move, fast." He dropped to his stomach and slid out of the truck, hitting the cold ground with a soft thud. He crouched low, keeping his body pressed to the earth as he moved toward the nearest bit of cover—a small outcropping of rocks and debris left from the wreckage of another truck.

Vance followed close behind, his movements just as fluid despite the obvious pain etched on his face. Together, they joined the rest of the team. Stone was already there, pulling the wounded into cover, his normally calm face tight with frustration.

"They're getting bold," Stone hissed through gritted teeth, dragging a barely conscious teammate behind a makeshift barricade. His muscles strained under the effort, but he didn't falter. "Looks like they want to finish the job up close."

Rion's eyes darted toward the mist once more, trying to gauge how much time they had. Not much. Their attackers were moving quickly now, closing in on their position with weapons drawn and ready to fire. Dark shapes flickered in and out of the fog, their outlines distorted and twisted by the swirling mist.

It was like watching shadows come to life, each one moving with deadly intent. The clicking of guns being readied echoed through the gloom, sending a shiver down Rion's spine.

"We've got maybe two minutes before they're on top of us," Rion said, his voice low but urgent. "They're using the fog to their advantage. We can't see them coming until it's too late."

Kellen nodded grimly, her eyes narrowing. "We don't have much in the way of firepower left. A few rifles, some sidearms, and that's about it. We're sitting ducks if we stay here."

Rion's mind raced as he considered their options. They were outnumbered and outgunned, pinned down in an exposed position with no clear escape route. The odds weren't in their favor, but giving up wasn't an option. Not for him. His gaze shifted to the others—eleven combatants, including him and Vance, still capable of fighting. Everyone else was either dead or too injured to move.

The only way out of this was to get creative.

His eyes landed on one of the overturned trucks, its engine still faintly humming from the crash. The attackers were getting closer by the second, but with his head finally clearing up, he remembered he still had a hidden card he had yet to use.

"Guys, I need you to buy me some time."