Cindy and Isabel gripped their guns, a shared sense of awe washing over them. These weren't the same weapons they'd handed to Jaxon. The recoil was almost nonexistent, the magazine seemed bottomless, and each shot was silent, felling multiple infected with ease.
'What did Jaxon do to these?' both thought at the same time, exchanging a glance but saying nothing.
Jaxon didn't hold back either. "Focus on the ones climbing and the ones close by," he called down. "Hit accurately. I'll thin the rest."
His bullets tore through the infected like armor-piercing rounds on steroids, each impact clean, lethal, and unstoppable. Notifications pinged in his mind with every shot, two, three, sometimes more, confirming the growing damage stack on his DMR.
Meanwhile, the Special Unit's squad leader scanned the battlefield, noticing the infected falling one by one as they rushed another area. Headshots, precise and relentless.
