Chapter 635: Chapter 635: Persistence (Part 5)

Don moved first. His hands separated, then came together again in the same motion—

CLAP!~

Another blast of force surged upward, distorting the air above him.

A few falling bodies twisted off course, spinning mid-air before crashing into the street at awkward angles.

One struck a streetlight and wrapped around it before dropping limp.

K-4’s head snapped to the side. He spotted his rifle half-buried under debris, sprinted two steps, and snatched it up in one motion.

Blood slid down past his eye, but he didn’t blink it away. He raised the weapon, braced the stock into his shoulder, and fired.

CRACK—CRACK—CRACK!~

Three shots. Three hits.

Each round punched clean through skull or chest, dropping targets before they could hit the ground.

But it wasn’t clean work. Pieces came down too—arms, fragments, things that still moved after they landed.

He adjusted his aim constantly, breath controlled despite the chaos around him.

Charles shifted his footing, wincing as he forced his wing forward. Feathers along its edge lifted, humming faintly before launching upward in a wide spread.

SHFFFT!~

The volley tore through the falling mass. Some feathers pierced straight through torsos, pinning bodies mid-fall before ripping free.

Others struck glancing blows, altering descent just enough to send them crashing into walls instead of the team below.

Not as precise but still effective.

Olynk moved fast, boots scraping against the street as he closed the distance to the wrecked chopper.

His eyes flicked between the sky and the ground, tracking movement, calculating risk.

He spotted his rifle just ahead—half under a bent panel—and pushed toward it.

Behind him, Charles raised his voice, forcing it through the comms. "We need emergency pickup! Code Blackfall!"

Static crackled for half a second.

Then—

"This is Watcher," the voice came through, steadier than expected. "Command received. Code Blackfall acknowledged. Exfil in motion. ETA six minutes."

Six minutes.

Olynk reached down, fingers brushing the rifle—

It shook.

Not just the rifle.

The ground.

A low vibration ran through the street, subtle at first, then growing just enough to shift loose debris.

Small fragments trembled, sliding slightly across the surface.

Olynk’s hand froze for half a second.

Then he grabbed the weapon and snapped his head back toward the others, eyes narrowing. "Something’s coming!"

He slung the rifle up, already scanning. "Watcher, can you confirm!"

Gunfire continued around him—K-4 and Don maintaining pressure on the falling threats—while the reply came through, edged with interference.

"This is Watcher. Drone footage is currently unavailable. All drones are offline."

A separate voice cut in, quieter, directly into Don’s ear.

Winter.

"It should be the Vanguard-7 interceptors," she said. "They likely don’t want unauthorized aerial footage of whatever operation they are carrying out." A brief pause. "This could be concerning."

Don didn’t respond. His hands came together again—

CLAP!~

Another upward burst scattered a cluster of descending bodies before they could reach street level.

Olynk didn’t dwell on it. He adjusted his stance, sighting down his rifle as he fired controlled bursts into the air. "What’s the last direction that showed the least activity?"

A short delay.

Then Watcher again. "North-east corridor. Minimal movement recorded before feed loss."

Olynk nodded once, already shifting his weight. "Let’s move!"

He turned—

"CONTACT!!"

K-4’s voice cut through everything.

Not shouted wildly. Directed.

Everyone followed his line of sight.

At the far end of the street, beyond the wreckage and scattered fires, something moved through the haze that hadn’t fully cleared there. Not falling. Not erratic.

Advancing.

Slow at first, then clearer as it stepped into view.

The horde wasn’t just dropping from above anymore.

Another was coming from the ground.

Figures pushed forward through wrecked vehicles and broken storefronts, their movement uneven but persistent.

Some dragged limbs that didn’t work right. Others moved too well, heads fixed forward, pace steady.

One climbed over a crushed car, slipping once before correcting and continuing forward without pause.

More shapes gathered behind them.

A lot more.

The sound reached them next—a layered mess of impacts, scraping, low, broken vocalizations that carried across the street in a steady wave.

Closing.

K-4 adjusted his grip on the rifle, blood still trailing down his face, eyes locked forward. Olynk shifted his stance beside him, angling slightly to cover a wider arc.

Charles pulled his wing back in, feathers already lifting again despite the strain. Don stood just ahead of them, hands lowering slightly as he stared down the length of the street.

Charles didn’t hesitate. He forced his wing outward again, teeth clenched as he pushed through the strain. "We need to move, now!"

Don was already moving.

His focus narrowed, not on sight but sound. The street fed him everything at once—distant impacts, scattered gunfire, the wet drag of bodies across concrete, the low rumble of something far off.

He filtered it fast. Two directions stood out. Both loud. Both crowded.

He picked the one that sounded worse.

"That way!"

He didn’t wait for agreement.

Olynk’s eyes flicked toward the direction, doubt clear in the set of his brow, but the moment Charles committed and pushed forward, he followed without another word. One hand came up, gesturing sharply toward K-4.

"Move!"

They broke into a run. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Boots slammed against cracked asphalt as they pushed through the street, weaving around debris and bodies without slowing.

Don led, pace uneven only because he kept adjusting—small shifts left or right, avoiding weak points, reading the ground ahead before stepping into it.

Then—

BOOM!~

The air cracked overhead.

Jets tore across the sky so fast they barely registered as shapes, just streaks cutting through cloud and smoke.

The shockwave hit a moment later, slamming down into the street with enough force to rattle loose glass from window frames and kick up a violent gust that shoved against their backs.

Loose debris skidded across the ground. A hanging sign tore free and slammed into a wall. Dust lifted again in a rolling wave.

Still, they ran.

Don didn’t even look up. His stride lengthened instead, pushing harder through the resistance.

Behind him, Olynk leaned forward into the gust, keeping balance while tracking their surroundings.

K-4 stayed tight, rifle angled slightly upward now, ready to snap and fire if anything dropped in.

Charles lagged half a step, wing dragging slightly lower, but he forced himself to keep pace.