Turned around, and now I was more tightly entangled now, but at least I was facing my enemies. And entangled… but what do I need claws for? Two sweeping strikes with both hands, and I was free, while the Lickers growled and squealed in frustration.
I lunged forward, literally diving beneath the trio of Lickers, slashing in every direction. My claws calmly sliced through bone, muscle, and tendon—until, with an especially appetizing crunch, my right arm went limp, and one of the four monsters still in front of me swung its raking limb again.
Yeah, what a mess—I've already given up on my instincts. They've been screaming about danger from every direction since the moment I entered the hall, so they're useless. And the animal reflexes of the body I have inherited are not enough for me to evade every attack. As for the reflexes of that special forces soldier… unfortunately, I'll have to develop those myself, or find a way to turn borrowed memories into actual skills.
Yes, I'm not nearly as cool as I'd like to be, but I'll suffer for it later... if I survive.
I leapt back, kicking my opponents in the chest as they rose, sending them flying a meter and a half before they slammed into the wall. A pity they weren't dead—but the recoil gave me extra momentum, and my jump carried me much farther than expected.
And I almost reached… wow!
I flew straight toward Vector, who had already shot two Lickers, managed to grab a pistol, and—judging by his posture—had snapped another one's neck! So, out of the five that had attacked him, only two remained.
I even felt another stab of envy. Here I was, a mutant ghoul, but Vector was the one efficiently neutralizing his enemies, and I was just retreating, trying not to draw attention. Well—jumping away, more precisely.
By the time I landed, I saw my target (though now I was starting to doubt who was hunting whom) calmly finishing off the last two. And if the first went down with a single bullet to its exposed brain; the second turned out to be unexpectedly agile. The bullets struck its body and lodged there, causing any particular harm to the creature.
Yes, I'd already noticed this during their descent—sometimes, when fighting Lickers, the squad had to empty half a magazine if they couldn't land a headshot. The creatures were absurdly resilient.
While I was distracted, Vector—who hadn't noticed me jumping into the shadow of the wall—redirected his fire toward the Lickers trying to tear Beltway apart. Judging by the torn-off prosthetic, the situation was clearly not in Beltway's favor, and Vector realized it too, ceasing fire. He reached for a fresh magazine.
Now!
I jumped from the wall at an angle, landing to the mercenary's left just as his instincts caught up with him. With a two-handed blow, I literally smashed his right side into the wall. Fortunately, my right arm had already regenerated and was ready to go.
I may have overdone it.
The wall swallowed Vector's body with a wet, unpleasant crunch and, after "struggling" for a couple of moments that felt like an eternity to me, spat him into the next room.
Well, what was I thinking, I wonder?
No—his reactions really are monstrous, as is his mastery of both weapons and his own body. But even if we assume our reaction speeds are equal (and why not? I still catch myself noticing that my mind sometimes lags behind my body), then a couple of my punches will settle the matter.
Let's say he manages to break something of mine—so what? All I need to do is shield my head with one hand and strike with the other, and everything will be fine. After all, even if he takes such a blow to the block, I won't even feel it.
No, it's perfectly understandable why I was careful and didn't use my claws—I needed his clothes (and his motorcycle), and I didn't want to ruin them. But I could have hit him with full force from the start—it wouldn't have torn him apart, because they calmly took bullets from the regular US army in their suits, so why bother with small stuff?
After this little internal briefing, I stepped through the breach and, not allowing him to rise, brought my clasped hands down directly onto his spine.
The crunch that followed was music to my ears.
And yet—even that didn't go perfectly.
The bastard managed to aim a gun at my knee with his far hand and fire at the exact moment my blow landed. So although the damage regenerated fairly quickly—thanks to the blood I'd loaded myself with before entering the hall, which was still amplifying my abilities—But still, for five seconds, I lay across Vector, who was trying to move.
And trying hard!
He almost twisted my head off, but a sharp strike to his left arm made it crunch and fold at an unnatural angle. The mercenary clenched his teeth, stifling a scream. Judging by the complete immobility of his lower body, though, I had broken his spine after all.
How could he endure all these injuries?
The pain must have been hellish, yet he only ground his teeth and hissed softly through them.