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The first shot was a ricochet round that destroyed the surveillance cara mounted above the security guards blocking the corridor.
Anyone who noticed it was deeply impressed by the shooter's skill.
Most of them, however, were too confused to realize what had happened.
Green Arrow Duck did not make the sort of slow dramatic entrance where he stepped around the corner and beca everyone's target.
Instead, using the mobility advantage of low-hover movent, he burst around the corner in an instant.
The heavy machine gun that had been mounted on his back was already in his hands.
Then ca the tallic roar of hell.
Out of more than a dozen pistols, most of their owners never even got the chance to pull the trigger.
Only a few lucky ones fired a single shot.
Anyone who wasn't imdiately cut down by the first sweep instantly began scrambling backward—rolling, crawling, fleeing in blind panic.
Without exception.
One obvious rookie managed to escape behind the corner, then pressed himself against a concrete wall while raising his pistol, seemingly intending to ambush the strange-looking intruder.
But another veteran guard who got along with him fairly well grabbed him while retreating and dragged him away.
The younger man was about to protest—
Then from the corner of his eye he saw the spot where he had intended to hide.
The concrete wall he'd trusted was being shredded into fragnts by the heavy machine gun.
Terrified, he imdiately joined the others in their desperate rolling retreat.
Even after the machine gun fire stopped, nobody dared turn back.
They fled straight for the stairwell and only stopped after descending several floors.
Still shaken, they looked at each other.
After counting heads, only eight of them had made it down.
That ant six or seven n had been left behind in that corridor.
After a long silence, soone finally asked:
"There's no more gunfire... should we go back up and check?"
The most seasoned veteran cursed:
"Fuck that. Go yourself."
"In a narrow hallway, against a heavy machine gun—you know what that ans?"
"That setup is basically the entrance to hell."
"I don't care what kind of monster can carry a machine gun while moving and firing at the sa ti. I've only got a pistol."
"I'm not trading fire with that."
---
Upstairs, Green Arrow Duck had been forced to abandon hover mode in order to resist the recoil of sustained machine-gun fire.
Instead, he planted both feet on the floor and advanced on foot.
That undoubtedly reduced his mobility.
But the results were astonishingly effective.
Most ordinary people misunderstood firearms.
They believed cover could block bullets.
In reality, the main purpose of cover was simply to prevent the enemy from seeing you clearly—forcing them to miss.
Luck played a large role.
Take common street gunfights, for example.
Unless a car door had been reinforced with ballistic steel, the only truly reliable cover was the engine block—that giant chunk of tal.
Hide behind a door or trunk panel, and if your luck was bad, bullets would punch right through and bite into you anyway.
And the weapon in Green Arrow Duck's hands was a Browning M2 heavy machine gun.
The fad .50 cal.
Using 12.7mm rounds.
This particular one had been modified for one-handed support and one-handed firing.
In military range training, this weapon usually fired at dirt berms—not paper targets.
And it often erased the berms.
Ordinary concrete walls in comrcial buildings simply weren't enough.
That was why real military fortresses asured wall thickness in ters.
Anything less couldn't even stop a heavy machine gun, much less artillery.
Inside an ordinary office tower, the only things limiting such a weapon were line-of-sight obstruction caused by complex architecture—
And ammunition capacity.
But Green Arrow Duck's sensor systems erased the first disadvantage entirely.
He couldn't quite manage one-shot-one-kill precision through walls—
But if he wanted to, he could absolutely use sheer firepower to kill targets behind floors or several rooms away.
Still, killing people wasn't his main objective.
Even among those cut down in the opening burst, so had rely lost arms or legs.
They lay on the ground in terror, dragging mangled limbs as they tried to crawl away from the ridiculous-looking mascot figure before them.
As for those hit in the torso or head—
They looked as if so savage beast had bitten chunks out of them.
Very dead.
---
Green Arrow Duck resud low-hover mode and glided through the bloody corridor with the machine gun still in hand.
He didn't finish off the wounded.
These were ordinary humans.
Whether or not they knowingly chose to work for vampires, they were still human.
Besides, those who survived would be crippled for life.
And if he wanted fear to spread, he needed witnesses.
Anyone who experienced all this and still ca seeking revenge afterward—
Well, Green Arrow Duck would genuinely respect them.
Without caring whether the liquid soaking their pants was blood or urine, he simply floated past them and continued onward.
Apparently the machine gun assault had terrified the previous group badly enough.
No more human guards appeared ahead.
Instead, the defenders now were the vampires stationed in the building.
These dark creatures still maintained their uniquely awful aesthetic.
Compared to street gang punks, they looked more like pre-90s biker gangs.
They wore rebellion and anti-mainstream identity like fashion.
They fully embodied the word:
Perverse.
For reasons unknown—perhaps overconfidence—they ca out carrying only knives, or sotis empty-handed.
Not one of them seed to care about Green Arrow Duck's machine gun.
They shouted taunts and jeers with great enthusiasm.
Green Arrow Duck naturally had no intention of wasting machine-gun rounds on enemies he knew ordinary bullets would barely affect.
He relaxed both arms and flicked them backward.
The heavy machine gun was retracted onto the armor's rear mounting rack.
Seeing this, one vampire sneered:
"Haha! Big mascot!"
"I thought you were dangerous."
"What, surrendering already?"
"Take off the mask, tell us your na."
"Maybe we'll let you beco a probationary mber."
"Maybe we'll even let you earn one of our marks."
The way he spoke made it sound as if the dead and wounded human servants didn't exist.
But to vampires, blood thralls and hired followers were disposable tools.
They felt no regret whatsoever.
What the vampires hadn't expected was this:
Green Arrow Duck had brought limited anti-human ammunition.
That was one reason he hadn't bothered using the machine gun on vampires.
But anti-vampire ammunition?
He had brought plenty.
He'd tolerated these bastards long enough.
Today they had conveniently gathered together.
There was no way he wouldn't make the most of it.
Without responding to their taunts, Green Arrow Duck simply raised his left arm and spread all five fingers.
An electromagnetically accelerated round shot forward.
The projectile was filled with silver nitrate solution.
It struck the vampire square in the chest.
The shell ruptured.
Silver nitrate flooded into the vampire's body.
Holy silver ions rapidly broke down the dark creature's cells, triggering spontaneous combustion.
Compared to the humans earlier who had been blasted apart by machine-gun fire, these vampires died almost silently.
Five shots.
Five vampire lives.
The sole survivor was not spared because the railgun had a slow reload speed.
It wasn't that at all.
Green Arrow Duck needed soone alive for questioning.
He hadn't forgotten why he ca here.
He was here to rescue people—
Not rely clear the building.
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