Staring at the tightly closed second control center Main Gate.
Jars was nearly going insane.
What is it called to be trapped in your own cocoon?
This was it.
They hoped to block others with the Main Gate, but now the sa strategy had trapped them; they couldn’t open any of the base’s main road doors and were locked inside the second control center.
Actually,
in the next base equipnt upgrade,
there was to be a design allowing manual opening from the inside.
Unfortunately,
it hadn’t been implented in ti.
The enemy had already attacked.
Violent hacking?
Ha.
Control Center.
Being the brain of the Experintal Base,
one could imagine the thickness of the doors.
Jars grabbed a gun and blindly fired at the Main Gate, "Da da da da..." ’Clang clang...’ Bullet casings flew, and after an entire magazine of bullets was spent, the door was completely undamaged.
Only so paint had flaked off.
"FUCK, FUCK...."
Jars tossed aside the gun in his hand.
Hands on his hips.
His complexion had changed.
Because,
at this ti, the Fighters had already breached level minus-six, and due to all main gates being sealed, large numbers of Security Personnel were trapped in corridor compartnts at every level.
And the invaders
were the only ones with a ’key.’
The entire base lit up with red lights.
"They’ve broken in?"
"Yeah, lots of Security were killed and the doors also malfunctioned. Just don’t know whether it’s the work of the Control Center or the attacking enemy, haha, Kovalro has t his match."
Those in the know laughed.
"Heh, interesting."
"Really want to see how things unfold."
"..."
The Scientists stopped their work and looked at the trapped Security Personnel in the corridors, discussing animatedly. Were they panicked? Just a little, for a simple reason.
Whether it was the nation
or other forces that had broken in,
these people were important Researchers with extrely high value. As long as they cooperated, they wouldn’t be hard; with no real danger to their lives, what was there to rush for?
They might as well be spectators.
...
Elsewhere,
Five minutes later,
Outside the second Control Center Main Gate.
"Bang bang... bang."
Following the last gunshot, there were no longer any living Security Personnel outside the door; under Tang Qing’s orders, these Security Personnel were loyalists to ’Kovalro’ and had no reason to exist.
Through the tiny Glass
Jars watched everything outside.
"Gurgle."
At that mont,
a face that had only been seen on Surveillance appeared before him, and then, the group approached. Jars panicked and stepped back. Seconds later, ’Hiss~~~’
The door
opened.
They faced the approaching threat head on.
Dozens of Weapons were trained on the entrance.
However,
recalling the scene they had just seen on the monitors, they felt helpless; the Weapons in their hands posed no threat to the intruders. Even if the Control Center had heavy armants, it might not be enough to deter the enemy.
Moreover,
it was unknown whether the enemy still had forces above them.
The door
opened to both sides.
"Without my command, do not fire."
At this ti.
Jars watched as the leading person removed their mask.
That signal.
He understood in a second.
It ant they wanted to talk.
The leading fighter took a step forward, holding a weapon in hand. The armor’s face mask was automated, not a hood, sowhat resembling Iron Man’s helt—just not as "thin-skinned."
Silence.
Breathlessness.
About twenty fighters walked in.
What struck Jars most was the ghostly silence; not a sound of footsteps could be heard, clearly indicating that the shoes had so advanced technology—this wasn’t sothing you could achieve with just a bit of plastic underneath.
They entered the Control Center.
The leading fighter glanced around, facing dozens of guns without a trace of emotion. Even more hurtful for them, the twenty-odd people behind the fighter all had their guns pointed to the ground.
As if to say,
It doesn’t matter.
If you want to fight,
We’ll give you a one-second head start.
An advantage?
We’ll give it to you!
"Where do you co from?" Jars asked, with a hint of arrogance still lingering in his voice.
"Above." The fighter responded indifferently.
"Why attack our base?" Jars asked.
The corner of the fighter’s mouth quirked up, "A secondary objective is to test our weapons’ performance, to train the team, to increase actual combat experience, to improve overall capability. The primary task... is to send you all to et God."
The fighter made a straightforward threat.
Which shocked them.
Hearing the first part, they were outraged—their base was reduced to a "monster camp" serving rely for the enemy to farm experience. Hearing the latter part left them cold with dread; today, their chances seed slim.
They were at a loss for threats.
Shoot them?
Wishful thinking.
"You should know, whose property this is, right?" Jars asked again.
"Oh? Whose?" The fighter feigned confusion.
"You... We are people from ’Kovalro’. If you touch us, the consequences will be severe. I think, with your strength, you should know of this great organization," Jars started playing his background card.
"Great? Where’s the greatness?" The fighter countered.
"It... is very powerful," Jars pondered for a long ti before he could only co up with this line. Ideally, so organizations should have a spiritual belief, but Kovalro only believed in money and violence.
He was embarrassed to bring that up.
"That’s your reason? You even say that with disdain," The fighter expressed contempt.
After speaking,
The fighter looked at the several dozen people.
"In fact, I think you all understand. You’ve seen plenty that you shouldn’t have, and we can’t let you get the chance to talk about it," the fighter said boldly.
Sure enough,
The crowd was enraged.
This was a death sentence.
"Hold on, don’t be rash," Jars yelled.
If shots were fired, there really would be no turning back.
"There are conditions for everything, na your price."
The fighter said, "You really are used to doing business. It’s just that we don’t care for your stuff. Or to put it another way, if we want it, we can take it anyti, so why should we negotiate with you?"
"I admit, your armor is impressive. However, our latest drug research is sothing you will definitely be interested in," Jars disclosed, putting it all on the line in this life-or-death mont.
Perhaps,
That was exactly what they had co for.
"Drugs?"
"Yes, a kind that can enhance strength, at least doubling it," Jars said.
"That’s sowhat interesting."
"I believe our drug will be revolutionary and has no side effects, greatly benefitting soldiers," Jars temporarily hid the issue of the difficulty in obtaining the drug’s ingredients.
The fighter paused for a mont.
Agreed, "Oh? Interesting, let’s test its effectiveness. Have one of your n fight one of mine. If you win, we can consider it. But if you lose, proving the drug worthless, well, it would be unfortunate."
"I..."
Hesitating for a mont.
"Okay."
Jars gritted his teeth and agreed.
It was their last chance.
"Prompt."
Said,
To their stunned silence,
The fighter took off the armor they were wearing. Underneath was another layer—a lightweight, tight-fitting garnt, a pale grey jacket that looked silky smooth, which it indeed was. Beyond providing warmth, it was also bulletproof.
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