He shot forward, a blur of red and black, straight into the nearest group of Ninders.
His right fist connected with the first Ninder's chest plate. A CRUNCH of metal. The robot stumbled, red light flickering in its visor. He didn't wait. His left foot swept out, catching another Ninder low, sending it sprawling.
He grabbed the first Ninder's head, twisting. The neck joint SCREECHED and gave way. The robot slumped, dead before it hit the ground.
Two more Ninders closed in. One swung a vibro-blade, a high-pitched WHINE filling the air. He ducked under it, his spider-sense a dull throb, not a sharp warning. It was all too close, too fast, too much at once.
He slammed his elbow into the Ninder's midsection. Another CRACK. He felt its frame buckle, then a quick web shot wrapped around its arm, pulling it off balance. The second Ninder fired its plasma rifle. A bolt of red energy ZAPPED past his ear.
Too close.
He pushed off the first Ninder, using its dying form as a shield, letting the plasma bolt sizzle against its damaged plating. Then he was on the rifle-wielding Ninder, a quick kick to its knee. The joint gave, and the robot dropped. He stomped, crushing its head under his boot. SQUELCH.
He didn't look back. There was no time. The dull thrumming of his spider-sense intensified, a constant pressure in his skull.
There are too many.
He threw a quick web at a Ninder's plasma rifle, yanking it free. The weapon spun through the air, clattering against a missile casing. He shot another web, this time directly into the Ninder's optical sensor, blinding it.
Then he charged.
They're just robots.
He grabbed a Ninder, its lightweight alloy frame surprisingly easy to lift. He swung it like a club, slamming it into two other Ninders that rushed him from the side. Metal CLANGED against metal. The three robots crumpled together, sparks flying. He tossed the first Ninder aside. It skidded across the dirt, then lay still.
His vision narrowed. All he saw were the red visors, the black forms. Each one was a piece of the Iron Cross Army. Each one was a target.
He fired webs, binding one Ninder's legs, another's arms. He pulled hard, sending them crashing into each other. A third Ninder tried to flank him, but he saw the movement out of the corner of his eye. His right hand shot out, a venom fang strike to its chest core. CRACKLE. Red energy lines flared, then died.
His movements were quick, almost frantic. He moved on pure instinct, a driven engine of destruction. Garia's lessons about fluid motion, about weaving the web, were lost in the roar of his blood. This was about power. This was about vengeance.
A Ninder jabbed with a vibro-blade. He caught the arm, twisting with brutal force. The joint snapped. He spun, using the Ninder's own momentum to throw it, a red and black projectile, straight into the side of a missile. THUD. A dent appeared in the missile's casing.
He grinned beneath his mask.
Damage them all.
More Ninders surrounded him, their numbers seemingly endless. They came from all directions, a tide of faceless soldiers. He met them head-on, a hurricane of fists and feet and webs.
He didn't dodge as much as he simply pushed through, his strength overwhelming their lighter frames. Every strike was a focused blast of pure, unfiltered rage. Each destroyed Ninder was a tiny victory.
His knuckles ached, but the pain was a distant thing, a dull reminder of why he was here. He needed to keep going. He needed to make them pay. He needed to stop those missiles.
The low hum from the missile platform shifted. It grew louder, a deep thrumming that vibrated through the ground beneath his feet. He heard a series of distinct clicks and whirs, an unsettling rhythm that broke through the CLANG and CRACK of battle.
He saw Amazoness. She moved toward the control panel, her silver hair flowing, her red eyes fixed on the display. Her movements indicated the final launch sequence had begun.
The missiles.
His focus snapped to the massive rockets. They glowed with an internal red light, a sign they were moments from firing. His heart hammered against his ribs.
He broke from the Ninders, ignoring the half-dozen still standing. His full attention was now on Amazoness and the missiles. He moved like a shot, faster than he thought possible, launching himself towards her.
Amazoness glanced back, a mocking smile curling her lips.
"You think you can disrupt my plans, insect?"
Her energy whip lashed out, a streak of red plasma. He reacted, ducking under the first crack. The heat kissed his costume.
Too close.
His spider-sense tingled, a frantic alarm, but he was still reeling from the Ninder fight. It couldn't predict the whip's second, arcing strike. It caught him a glancing blow to his side.
A searing pain. The suit hissed where the plasma grazed it.
"You're pathetic."
He ignored the taunt, the pain. He landed, pushing off the ground, a powerful two-handed shove. His palms connected with her chest plate. She stumbled back, the high heels digging into the dirt.
He bought himself precious seconds.
He spun toward the control panel, his hand reaching for the flashing red buttons.
"You won't touch them."
Amazoness recovered, her speed surprising him. The red whip snaked out, wrapping around his arm. It pulled him back, yanking him off balance.
He twisted, digging his feet in, trying to resist the pull. The whip tightened, burning against his suit.
"You're just a boy playing hero."
"And you're a monster."
He gritted his teeth, his muscles straining. He could feel the countdown in the hum of the missiles, the growing intensity of their red glow. He had to break free. He had to stop them.
I need the GP-7. Now.
"GP-7!"
He screamed the command, his voice raw, even through the mask. The red whip burned, digging into his suit, but he held on. He pulled against Amazoness, not letting her move, not letting her adjust.
A deep rumble echoed through the clearing. WHUMMMMM. The sound grew louder, shaking the ground. The trees at the edge of the clearing swayed.
Amazoness's crimson eyes widened for a fraction of a second. She glanced toward the source of the sound.
That was all he needed.
He released a burst of web fluid from his free hand, not at Amazoness, but at the whip wrapped around his arm. The sticky goo coated the plasma strand, deadening its energy, making it pliable.
He pulled free, the whip slipping from his arm. Amazoness snarled, flicking her wrist to retract the damaged weapon.
Not this time.
A powerful roar ripped through the night. VROOOM!
Headlights sliced through the darkness, a blinding white light that momentarily stunned the remaining Ninders. The GP-7 burst into the clearing, a streak of red and blue, tearing up the earth.
It swerved, kicking up a plume of dirt and leaves. The GP-7 screeched to a halt right beside him.
Perfect timing.
He sprinted toward the open cockpit, adrenaline pumping. He leaped, a surge of power lifting him over the frame, landing him smoothly into the driver's seat. The controls felt familiar, an extension of his will.
He slammed the door shut. The engines pulsed beneath him. He didn't hesitate. His fingers flew across the console. Targeting reticules appeared on the display, locking onto the missile launch platform.
Make them pay.
"Missiles away!"
He squeezed the trigger. WHOOSH!
A volley of GP-7's missiles streaked from the car's hidden launchers, fiery contrails painting lines across the night sky. They hurtled toward the Iron Cross Army's launch platform, a deadly, precise arc.
Amazoness's eyes narrowed, her smirk gone. She watched his counter-attack, a flicker of something he couldn't quite read crossing her face.
Fear? Maybe. Doubt? Good.
Her head snapped towards her Ninders. The GP-7's missiles closed in, growing larger in the night.
"Retreat!"
Her voice cut through the air, sharp and urgent. It was a command, no longer a taunt.
The remaining Ninders scattered, abandoning their positions, their faceless forms disappearing into the forest. They melted into the shadows, gone as quickly as they had appeared. Amazoness followed, a flash of silver hair, a swirl of black and red, then she too vanished into the trees.
Good. Run.
His missiles hit the Iron Cross Army's launch platform with a series of powerful impacts.
BOOM!
CRUNCH!
KABLAM!
The alien missiles, primed and ready to strike Tokyo, detonated in a brilliant, fiery burst. An orange and red fireball erupted into the night, momentarily turning darkness into blinding day. Shrapnel rained down, tearing through the trees, creating new scars on the earth. Smoke billowed upward, a dark column against the stars.
He watched the destruction, a grim satisfaction settling in his chest.
The threat to Tokyo was neutralized. For now.
He sat in the cockpit of the GP-7, the lingering scent of ozone and burnt metal hanging in the air. The explosion had ripped through the night. The missiles, once a threat, were now just smoke and scattered debris. He had stopped them.
Tokyo is safe. For now.
He scanned the clearing, his eyes sweeping over the charred earth. Amazoness and her Ninders were gone. They had vanished as quickly as they came, leaving only the wreckage of their failed attack. A bitter taste filled his mouth.
He had saved the city. But they had escaped. His father's killers. They were still out there.
Not for long.
A cold resolve settled deep in his chest. He would hunt them. He would find them. He would make them pay for everything they had done, for everything they planned to do.
He swore it. A silent promise that echoed in the empty clearing, a vow made to his dead father, to Garia, to himself. He would fight them as long as he lived. He would never let them harm Earth, or his loved ones, again.
***
Advance Chapters on patreon.com/Najicablitz.
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