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An extremely piercing sound—nothing like flesh meeting metal—exploded inside the gas station!
Dorio's maximally enhanced forearm muscles and steel-surpassing bones met head-on with high-frequency vibrating mantis blade edges!
The collision point even sparked a small cluster of brilliant sparks!
That "Switchblade" soldier's electronic eyes instantly widened—clearly his combat database had never recorded anyone meeting his mantis blades head-on with bare flesh!
Massive reactive force made even his superhuman cyberware joints emit faint groans. High-speed movement forcibly arrested. Optical camo completely failed from instant system overload, fully exposing his heavily cyberized body.
Dorio gave him zero time for adjustment or shock.
Seizing this fleeting opening, she twisted at the waist generating force. Left fist clenched like a cannon shell launching, solidly hammering the completely unguarded center of his chest!
"WHAM!"
A muffled, heart-stopping impact sound rang out.
That augmented soldier felt like getting hit head-on by a full-speed armored personnel carrier. His entire body—completely uncontrolled, feet leaving ground—flew backward like a discarded rag doll, slamming hard into the mottled concrete load-bearing wall meters away!
The wall emitted an overburdened groan. Spider-web cracks rapidly spread from the impact point.
He crumpled to the ground. That thick composite armor plate on his chest clearly dented with a fist imprint, edges twisted and deformed, internal mechanical structures crackling with short circuits. He struggled trying to rise, but Dorio's punch packed too much lethality. He could only futilely twitch a few times before going completely still.
And Dorio just slowly withdrew her fist, casually shaking her somewhat numb right arm.
The outer side of her right forearm had been sliced open by the mantis blade tip—about ten centimeters long. But the wound was shallow, merely breaking epidermis and partial dermis tissue. Blood beads quickly congealed on bronze skin.
Through the shallow wound, one could seemingly see tightly arranged, seemingly independently alive, faintly writhing enhanced muscle fibers beneath.
——
Through the last jostling, chaotic footage transmitted back from the augmented soldier's helmet camera, people in the virtual command center clearly saw how Dorio—with pure physical strength—forcibly intercepted and barehanded defeated a "Switchblade" soldier equipped with Sandevistan and top-tier mantis blades.
The footage finally froze on the soldier crumpled groundside, chest armor dented, before signal completely cut out.
"That's impossible!" The Biotechnica observer lost composure for the first time, yelling out. She leaned forward, staring hard at the now snow-white screen. "Her physiological signal scans detected no large combat cyberware implants!
This... is this pure biological enhancement? The Animals gang's crude steroid and hormone tech—how could it possibly reach this level?!"
Her voice filled with disbelief and cognitive-paradigm-shattering shock.
The operations supervisor's face had already blackened like a wok bottom. Fists clenched crackling.
Losing two expensive "Manticore" AVs was already a major screwup. Now even precious, astronomically expensive experimental "Switchblade" soldiers got one-shot killed by opponents using such primitive, violent methods.
Maine crew's displayed strength repeatedly hammered his previous estimates and confidence like sledgehammers.
"Increase commitment! Send every available unit! Infantry, robots, drones—everything! I don't wanna see any more test data—I want results! No more screw-ups!" He practically roared the orders. Virtual image even slightly distorted from emotional agitation.
More Militech soldiers, cold combat robots, and buzzing drones surged like steel tides toward the small gas station ruins.
Firepower coverage density instantly jumped a level. Barrages practically wove death nets, suppressing Maine's crew so thoroughly even lifting heads became extremely difficult.
Maine crew members—backs against broken walls—conducted nearly desperate resistance.
Rebecca's plasma pistol, each charging completion, shot lethal blue beams melting through approaching robots or forcing soldiers seeking cover.
Pilar's smart weapon locked several enemies attempting flanking maneuvers. Bullets traced eerie arcs striking targets.
Falco and Maine used precise point-shooting, eliminating exposed targets one by one.
Dorio stood like an insurmountable bulwark guarding the most critical gap. Any enemies attempting forced entry got instantly knocked flying or smashed by her terrifying strength.
But enemy numerical advantage was overwhelming. Ammo rapidly depleting. Everyone's stamina sharply dropping. Operating space compressed step by step. The encirclement visibly tightened continuously.
Maine dodged a burst of sweeping gunfire, back against scorching cement walls, breathing heavily.
He knew hesitation was no longer an option.
He quickly switched to an independent encrypted channel with Kiwi, voice hoarse from tension and exhaustion: "Kiwi! Listen up! Situation's FUBAR! Call the boss immediately! Send real-time data and our coordinates! Now!"
On the channel's other end, Kiwi back in the city—fingers became afterimages across virtual interfaces.
"Copy! Attempting to establish connection... bypassing corp interference... activating backup encrypted nodes..." Her voice equally tense but operations still precise.
Seconds later, she urgently responded: "Link established! Channel stable! Can communicate!"
Maine took a deep breath, as if suppressing all restlessness and anxiety, then through this communication line using Kiwi as relay—heavily encrypted—sent distress signals to that existence deep within the desert workshop: "Boss! We're pinned down at Route 66 Gas Station by corp forces! Too many hostiles, well-equipped—we can't hold much longer! Requesting support!"
He knew interrupting that "boss's" research was far from wise, but they were already in desperate straits. This was the only lifeline.
——
Inside the wasteland workshop, Cairo was concentrating on analyzing a new set of resonance data from the dimensional transport device. Maine's distress signal—like a discordant noise—interrupted his thoughts.
A trace of displeasure swept through his logic core.
He detested unplanned interruptions, especially when immersed in research.
Subordinates unable to independently solve problems, instead requiring his personal intervention—this itself demonstrated his currently available forces' weakness.
However, this displeasure was quickly covered by another emotion—annoyance at being challenged on his doorstep.
Maine's crew now nominally belonged to him. Attacking them was tantamount to challenging his authority, though this "authority" currently only existed across this desert wasteland.
More importantly, he could almost certainly determine the company's targets weren't Maine's crew themselves but what they represented behind them—namely, the technology he himself controlled.
"Foolish." He quietly assessed, unclear whether referring to corporate behavior or Maine crew's carelessness falling into traps.
He didn't hesitate, directly connecting through encrypted links to Kiwi's open network port.
"Open your data channel." Cairo's cold synthesized voice rang through Kiwi's neural interface—carrying zero emotional coloring.
Kiwi didn't even have time responding before feeling a massive, cold, irresistible data stream instantly flood her systems. She felt like a leaf in raging seas, completely losing control over her own implants, only passively becoming a springboard.
Next instant, Cairo's consciousness—using Kiwi as relay—followed Maine crew members' neural interfaces, spreading like invisible viruses!