Chapter 47: The Russian Mafia-2

Worried about Matt, you swiftly lower your staff and employ your Metal Construct Power to split it into two batons. Without even glancing in Matt's direction, you hurl one baton towards him, aiming for him to use it as a weapon. Meanwhile, with the other baton, you swiftly strike at the gunmen nearby.

Your strike lands on the first guy's palm, causing him to release his grip on the gun in agony. With the momentum of your swing, you continue the arc, striking the second gunman's hand, causing his aim to falter.

"Aagh!"

The bullet from his misdirected shot hits another gunman's shoulder, forcing him to drop his weapon as well.

Swish

You sidestep the dagger-wielding assailant's attack again, moving with fluid grace. Swiftly retaliating, your roundhouse kick connects solidly with his cheek, rendering him unconscious. The force of your kick carries through, extending to strike the other thug who had misfired, his neck taking the brunt of the impact as he collapses to the ground.

The baton you had hurled swiftly sails through the air towards Matt, who reacts with lightning reflexes. He jumps and executes a swift kick, altering the baton's trajectory mid-flight.

It connects with one of the thugs' faces, knocking him unconscious. Seizing the opportunity, Matt rolls forward, catching the still-falling baton with expert precision. In one fluid motion, he slams it into another assailant's head, swiftly neutralising the threat.

As you scan your surroundings, you observe that one of the men who had been aiming at Matt has redirected his focus towards you. Two others are scrambling to retrieve their fallen firearms, one of whom appears to be nursing his injured shoulder. Three additional assailants have closed in on you, armed with bats and a knife.

In the heat of the moment, your senses heighten as you start with a burst of speed. As the bat-wielding thugs swing their heavy weapons towards you, you duck low with swiftness, the bats whistling harmlessly above your head.

You then plant your palms on the ground and launch into a powerful kick-up, driving your feet directly into the underarms of the two thugs, targeting the vulnerable nerves. The force is so precise and swift that it not only disarms them but also sends them flipping backward in a disoriented heap.

Still in motion and using your momentum, you spin on your heel standing up coming face to face with another knife-wielding attacker. As he lunges, knife aimed for your torso, you sidestep with a dancer's grace, your body swaying just out of the blade's deadly path.

Seizing his outstretched arm, you exert just enough strength to twist his wrist sharply, causing him to drop the knife. With a fluid motion, you yank him into the path of the oncoming gunman, transforming him into an impromptu human shield just as the gun discharges.

The bullet grazes the thug's side, stunning both him and the shooter with the unexpected betrayal.

Using this moment of shock to your advantage, you shove the dazed thug towards the gunman. As the gunman instinctively catches him, you dash forward and swing your baton with precision, striking both on their heads. The impact of the metal on their skulls is sharp and decisive, sending them crumpling to the ground unconscious.

You swiftly turn to assess the rest of the battlefield. Two thugs have managed to recover their firearms and are now aiming them at you. Across the field, Matt, though heavily wounded, has neutralised his immediate threats and is now dodging bullets from two other gunmen. He moves with a desperate, zigzagging urgency towards them, making him a difficult target.

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself, ready to end this fight decisively.

As you attempted to strategise a way to distract the assailants targeting Matt, your concentration wavered momentarily—a costly lapse in such a dire situation.

Bang Bang

The gunmen open fire relentlessly, their bullets pounding against your flickering personal shield, jolting you back to the immediate threat. In a desperate attempt to disarm the nearest thug, you sprint forward, but his reaction is swift; a bullet grazes your arm, sending a sharp pang of pain shooting through you—a stark reminder of the peril you're in.

You retaliate with a swift strike of your baton aimed at his arms, but the impact is superficial; his grip on the gun is unyielding, fueled by his fury for you. Both gunmen quickly regroup and aim their weapons at you once more.

Boom

Before you can react further, a resounding blast from behind catches you off guard. Emerging from the shadows behind a nearby container, a scarred, middle-aged man advances with a shotgun aimed directly at you. His first shot lands heavily against your back, the force hurling you to the ground as your personal shield shatters from the impact.

Dazed and vulnerable, you scramble to activate your psionic shield just as he fires again. The shield flickers and nearly disintegrates but holds just long enough to absorb the brunt of the blast, sparing you from a lethal wound.

"Po'shyol 'na hui!" he curses in baffled rage, witnessing your survival despite the direct hits.

As he fumbles to reload, the other two thugs exploit the moment to continue their barrage. Bullets ricochet around you, striking the ground in rapid succession. Pain sears through you as one bullet pierces your hand and another burrows into your leg. You grit your teeth against the sharp stings, which, though excruciating, aren't as painful as you feared.

Heavy breaths echo inside your metal helmet, sweat pouring down your face as the reality of your dire situation sets in. With every ounce of strength left, you know you must muster the resolve for one final, decisive action to turn the tide of this deadly encounter and ensure your survival.

Gasping for air within your metal helmet, the harsh reality of your situation presses heavily upon you. Yet, amidst the chaos and pain, you summon your last reserves of strength and activate your Chi Manipulation power. A surge of vitality washes over you, the overwhelming fatigue and pain momentarily subsiding as your endurance spikes.

Simultaneously, you activate your Personal Anti-Force, focusing primarily on its anti-gravity feature to lighten your body weight. Unbeknownst to you, this also affects the trajectory of a bullet aimed at you—it slows and it halts just before piercing your skin, its momentum inexplicably lost. But your attention is elsewhere so you do not notice this.

With your body now almost weightless, you explosively push off the ground with one hand, spinning into a powerful 180-degree kick. Your boot connects with the shotgun-wielding man's face with a sickening crunch, sending him crumpling to the ground, his weapon clattering aside.

The remaining two thugs, momentarily stunned by your swift counterattack, regain their senses and aim their guns at you. Reacting quickly, you hurl your baton with precision, striking one assailant in the eye.

"AAAGH"

His agonised scream pierces the air as he collapses, clutching his face. Lunging at the other, you tackle him to the ground, swiftly locking his arms and striking him twice in the temple, ensuring he falls unconscious.

You then go to that screaming guy and with a solid kick to his face make him unconscious.

Turning your attention to Matt, you see him sprawled beside a defeated adversary, breathing heavily. His injuries are severe, mirroring the dire straits you've both survived.

As your chi manipulation subsides, the numbness wanes, and pain floods back into your consciousness. You notice a bullet wound in your upper arm and another in your leg; both are through-and-through shots, mercifully missing bone but still bleeding profusely.

Relief washes over you as you realise the fight is finally over. Though victorious, the immediate need to tend to your injuries presses on you.

For now, the battlefield falls silent, leaving you to gather your strength and address your wounds. A deep breath escapes your lips, a mixture of pain and relief, as you prepare to tend to the aftermath of this brutal confrontation.

You quickly tear the sleeve of your shirt, fashioning makeshift bandages to stem your bleeding.

A quick survey of the battlefield reveals to you two conscious foes, who despite their injuries, are still awake.

Reluctantly, you activate your Telepathy power—a tool you seldom use—and quickly extract the information you need from their minds before rendering them unconscious with a precise strike.

Turning your attention to Matt, you find him lying next to a thug whose face is severely bruised—Matt must have really used him as a punching bag. Gently, you help Matt sit up.

"Ughhh," Matt groans, his fists bloodied, blood trickling from his mouth, and a deep gash visible on his side, someone had cut him pretty bad.

"Sorry, ha, for dragging you into this," he manages to say between heavy breaths.

"It wasn't your fault," you respond, shrugging as you tear part of his shirt to bandage his wound.

"No, ugh, I was careless. They must have figured out that I uncovered the info about this warehouse, ha. I expected them to send reinforcements, but I didn't anticipate this many people and that too armed to the teeth," he admits with a pained sigh.

"Well, we won, so it's all good. Definitely a night to remember for my first outing as a vigilante," you chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

"Honestly, if you weren't here, escaping would have been difficult, let alone winning," he says with a wry smile.

"See, you're lucky I was around," you reply with a smirk.

"Yes, thank you. Also, help me up; there are still people trapped in the containers," Matt says, gaining a bit of strength.

After patching him up properly, you both stand and he wobbles towards the containers, leaning on you for support.

As you approach the eerily quiet containers, you can't help but feel uneasy. After such a tumultuous battle, the silence from the containers seems unnatural.

The girls couldn't still be sleeping, can they?, you ponder, as you reach the containers.

You make Matt steps aside, as you focus on the lock. You touch it and activate your ability, Metal Constructs, transforming the metal lock into a metal stick, unlocking the door effortlessly.

Matt gives you a knowing look, clearly having caught glimpses of your Metal manipulation during the fight, but he holds his questions.

The door creaks open, releasing a wave of foul odour. Inside the dimly lit container, numerous women sit huddled together on the ground, their clothes torn and dirty, their faces etched with fear.

You wonder silently about their living conditions—how long they've been here, what they've been fed, and where do they relieve themselves, the latter probably explained the stench.

"The police will be here soon. You should wait outside the warehouse until they arrive," Matt instructs the women, his voice firm.

But the women stare blankly, either too frightened to move or numb from their ordeal.

"Now!" Matt suddenly yells, banging on the container's side. The sharp noise startles the women, they scream and hurriedly scramble out.

You watch them exit the warehouse, hoping they won't scatter and risk recapture.

Together with Matt, you continue clearing the containers, there were five of them, each one revealing another group of terrified women, totalling nearly fifty victims tonight alone.

The gravity of the situation sickens you. You think ruefully how you could have hit those traffickers even harder.

As you prepare to move on, you notice a girl standing apart from the others, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and hesitation.

"What is it?" you ask gently, realising too late that your metal mask might seem more intimidating than Matt's.

"I-I can't let the police find me... th-they will deport me!" she stammers, her gaze dropping to the floor.

"What's your name?" you inquire, sensing something familiar about her.

"A-Anya, Anya Corazon … from Mexico," she replies with a quivering voice.