"What's that?" came from one of the special forces soldiers, who resembled a deflated, younger version of Schwarzenegger.
"Is he even human?" That question came from the Black man, who had finally regained his breath and was now fully aware of the force with which the monster was pulling its victim.
And me? I'm fine—standing with my feet planted on the asphalt. Beneath me, it begins to crack, just like under Nemesis. Not as rosy as I would have liked, but better than I feared. Our strength is equal. He can't pull me in by coiling his tentacle, but my attempts to drag him closer are just as fruitless.
"Hah. You really are very strong, Nemesis. This will be enlightening." I grin inwardly. It seems this is called excitement. I've never experienced anything like this in my entire life, but now it's just rushing over me. Is this another trick of the mind, or is it the virus affecting my body?
"It's talking?!" It looks like I've already been classified as the same kind of monster as this filth in front of me. Which, to be fair, is accurate—but somehow still offensive.
"Uh-huh. I can sing, too, so put your weapons away!" I said aloud. "I don't like being targeted. And I'm not a monster—I just stole a very interesting suit from the lab. So maybe you can help me deal with this? Or rather, continue? I kind of came to your aid."
I tried to sound as peaceful as possible. After all, they can always finish me off later—I hope that's what they're thinking—but they'll definitely want to talk to a potential lab asset and dig up whatever dirt they can. That's their real goal, after all. Well, they definitely don't need to know that only two of us are leaving here alive.
As for the two alive ones, they are Yamata and me. Conditionally, of course—I'm not entirely sure what I'm referring to right now, but I'm hoping the G-virus will sort it out eventually.
Heh. This way, there's at least a chance they won't run—and will take advantage of my help, even if it's only out of self-interest and the intention to kill me afterward.
"What an interesting costume. I think I'll take you up on your offer," said the not-Schwarz—apparently their leader. Judging by the way he gestured toward the monster while keeping an eye on me (thanks to Vector's memories), my proposal had been accepted.
So, shall we pretend to be some bizarre mix of Batman and the Prophet?
The special forces squad opened fire on the monster. If only they knew who was nearby—though they clearly intended to conduct an interrogation after the battle. I might not wait for it to end.
But only the red-haired guy, oh no, wait, it was the third girl in the squad, managed to land clean shots—in the head and the bare left arm. Along with a solidly built, bald man with a thick black beard, vaguely reminiscent of a biker. Swap his special forces uniform for a leather jacket, and the image would be complete.
"Shoot him in the head, you idiots!" I shouted, unable to hold back. I pulled out a knife—using my claws would be far too obvious, and version with the costume might stop working—and sliced off the annoying appendage.
Apparently, the enemy experienced a moment of cognitive dissonance, because he didn't immediately grab anyone else.
I lunged forward—let's blame it on the suit's acceleration; maybe they'll believe that—and dodged a direct kick from the massive body.
Wow. His speed isn't bad. Slower than me—thank God, otherwise I'd have had to retreat, he would have won through sheer mass and resilience—but still very fast for something this large.
I'm close now, strike the side of his torso with my left hand, probing for the bulletproof vest. It dents slightly, but nothing more. Nemesis has already released another tentacle and tries to wrap it around me.
I jump back, sever the tentacle with my knife, and at the same time notice three clear shots to the monster's head.
Nemesis throws its head back and lets out a roar so powerful that the resulting shockwave actually knocks me off my feet.
Wow. And I thought they were exaggerating in the canon!
While I was getting back up, Nemesis had already turned and, with a wide swing of its arm, sent their wannabe Schwarzenegger flying. The poor guy sailed about ten meters through the air—he'd tried to come up from behind and stab Nemesis in the neck.
Hmm. He lost consciousness, but judging by the gestures of the "biker," who rushed to check on their commander, he seems to be alive. I'm not sure about his condition, though, after a flight like that and considering the force of the blow.
I leap toward Nemesis while it hasn't fully turned back and jump upward, plunging my knife straight into his head. I was counting on my own strength, acceleration, and gravity to crack his skull—
—but instead, there's the sound of metal striking metal.
A steel skull?
Original. And now it's obvious why he isn't afraid of gunfire—the vulnerable part is reinforced.
The only casualty here is my knife.
(End of Chapter)
P@treon: /SadRaven
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