The moment the elite team of retired Navy SEALs stepped into Rian's Detection Card range, he instantly clocked the difference.
These weren't the cannon-fodder thugs he'd mowed down earlier—those had been mere grunts, perhaps ex-cons or washouts from third-rate militias.
These ten? Their precision, posture, and gear screamed elite.
A grin tugged at Rian's lips.
Curb-stomping weaklings was satisfying, sure—but this? This got his blood pumping.
He was in the ship's galley now, tucked behind the east entrance. The elite squad approached from the west.
CRACK!
One shot, straight through both sets of glass doors—clean, surgical. A black operator at the front dropped with a hole in his neck.
As he collapsed, his finger clenched the trigger from the spasming pain. His SCAR rifle belched flame, spitting out a stream of 5.56 rounds.
The man ahead of him, a mixed-race soldier, took the full brunt.
His LBT6094 tactical vest—made of ultra-high-molecular polyethylene, twice the tensile strength of Kevlar—soaked up the initial rounds. But the barrage knocked him forward violently.
And in that forward fall, a single bullet found the lower edge of his helmet and punched into the back of his skull.
BOOM—two down.
"FUCK! Billy and Danny are down!"
"SHIT! Was that luck, or is he doing this on purpose?"
"BASTARD! He killed Billy—I'm gonna fucking end him!"
Michael, the M249 gunner, stepped up with fire in his eyes.
A pure-blooded black operator, he'd been holding the rear. Now, enraged, he charged to the front and let loose.
The belt-fed SAW roared, spewing hundreds of rounds. The west entrance shattered into shards. Everything in the galley beyond was torn apart in a maelstrom of lead.
But Rian was already gone.
This part of the ship wasn't all steel—there were narrow crawlspaces and hidden ducts.
Using the Detection Card's x-ray overlay, he flanked the team unseen.
Back at the ambush point, Michael was still seething as his 200-round drum emptied. He began to reload.
Jack, the squad leader, grabbed his arm. "Hey! Listen, man."
"I know what Billy meant to you. I get it. But this guy? He's not some chump. Blind rage won't take him down."
"We're professionals. Tactics, teamwork—that's how we kill him."
Meanwhile, Rian was already behind them, having slipped through a maintenance shaft.
He paused at the "special relationship" comment.
Ugh. Gross.So that walking meat-shield was his boyfriend?
He drew a frag grenade.
Pin. Spoon. Count. Throw.
The squad turned just in time to see it soaring midair.
Years of training kicked in—one soldier even tried to volley it back like a soccer ball.
The others dove into the galley.
But Rian wasn't some rookie tossing grenades like confetti.
BOOM!
Airburst.
The M67 frag grenade had a 5-meter kill radius, 15-meter wound radius—and all eight remaining SEALs were well within that.
180 grams of Composition B—three times more powerful than TNT—sent supersonic steel shrapnel ripping through flesh and armor alike.
Jack had dropped behind Michael, using his massive frame as a meat shield.
Now, dazed and deafened by the explosion, he shoved aside Michael's corpse.
Blood was everywhere.
The other seven were scattered across the corridor, unmoving.
Their tactical helmets—rated to stop 9mm—had no chance against steel fragments traveling at mach speeds. Even those not pierced were done for. The concussion at that range liquefied their brains.
Jack staggered to his feet, mind reeling.
He stared at the heap of dead elite soldiers.
His voice cracked. "You... you're the devil."
"You goddamn devil!!"
Screaming, he opened fire down the corridor, panic making his aim wild.
Then he turned to flee.
CRACK!
One shot. Clean.
The bullet clipped beneath his helmet and drilled into the brainstem.
He pitched forward, collapsing atop Michael's body.
Michael, somehow still clinging to life, managed a faint smile... then breathed his last.
Rian stepped into the hallway, surveying the pile of corpses with a feral grin.
Now that was a fight.
He turned and strode toward the surgical room.
The last rats were all holed up in there. Time to finish this.