The violence on the concrete pad was swift, and utterly one-sided.
Within minutes, the twenty men who had stepped out of the helicopters with such misplaced pride were scattered across the ground like broken toys.
Xavier stood in the center of the carnage, a faint, mocking snicker escaping his lips.
He looked down at the men he had just dismantled, unable to comprehend the sheer idiocy it took for them to challenge his unit.
These were soldiers who had been forged in the crucible of real-world conflict, men who had literally marched through rain and fire to reach their current level of lethality.
To think that Kai's private guards believed they could stand against them in a fair fight was almost insulting.
Xavier began to pace through the field of defeated men, his boots crunching on the grit of the helipad.
He moved with a relaxed grace, stepping over the groaning bodies as if they were nothing more than obstacles in his path.
