From Bullets To Billions

Chapter 622: The Iron Chest

In the heart of the legal department, the air was thick with the scent of old toner and the frantic energy of a hunt. While the rest of the facility may have been embroiled in direct, bloody confrontations, there was one person in particular who wasn’t taking part in a conventional fight. Wolf moved with a fluid, predatory grace that seemed to mock the rigid movements of the exoskeleton user currently stalking him through the cubicles.

Every time the man attempted to close the distance, lunging forward with mechanical assistance, Wolf would shift with uncanny timing. He didn’t just retreat; he wove a complex path through the office landscape. He moved in a specific direction, almost wandering intentionally around heavy oak desks and filing cabinets to force them into his opponent’s path. It was a game of cat and mouse where the mouse was leading the cat into every sharp corner in the room.

Out of pure frustration, the exoskeleton user finally snapped. Rather than following the winding path Wolf had laid out, the man gathered his strength and leapt. His boots slammed onto the surface of a long conference table, the wood groaning under the artificial weight of his suit. As he landed, a massive wake of legal briefs and documents went flying.

The room became a blizzard of white. Papers spiraled through the air in chaotic patterns, obscuring sightlines and creating a shimmering curtain of cellulose. This chaos made it nearly impossible for the attacker to track Wolf’s exact position. He squinted through the fluttering debris, searching for a silhouette, but the distraction was the perfect shroud.

Wolf didn’t wait for the air to clear.

Like a shadow emerging from the paper storm, Wolf launched a low, sweeping kick. The strike connected perfectly with the man’s bracing leg, the sheer kinetic force causing his limb to buckle. The exoskeleton user collapsed, falling heavily onto the tabletop he had just been standing on. The thud was immense, a metallic, heavy sound that echoed off the high ceilings.

Wolf didn’t stop there. Capitalizing on the moment of vulnerability, he followed up immediately. He chambered his leg high into the air, his silhouette momentarily blocking out the overhead lights, before swinging his heel down in a brutal descending arc toward the man’s chest.

As the bottom of his heel dug into the center of the man’s torso, a sharp, searing pain shot through Wolf’s own body. It wasn’t the pain of a bruise, but the jarring vibration of flesh meeting something far harder than bone. It felt as though he had kicked the hull of a tank. As the man’s hands flew up to grab his leg in a vice grip, Wolf reacted on instinct, snapping his foot back and leaping away from the cluster of tables to put distance between them.

"Now, that was strange," Wolf muttered to himself. He stood a few paces back, shaking his foot vigorously to lessen the stinging numbness traveling up his calf. "I thought something was up with this guy, but I believed I might have been imagining things at first."

The man rolled off the table, his movements fueled by rage. When he hit the carpeted floor, he didn’t wait to reset. He began grabbing heavy office chairs by their frames, hoisting them aloft with terrifying ease and hurling them toward Wolf. The projectiles were deadly, but the trajectory of the attacks was predictable. The man was relying on raw power rather than finesse, making it easy for Wolf to read the arc of each flying chair and avoid them with a series of casual leans and sidesteps.

As Wolf slipped past the final chair, he saw his opening. He closed the gap in a blur of motion, swinging something from behind his back as he approached. The man, acting on pure defensive instinct, threw out a massive fist to intercept the incoming strike.

His fist crashed into the object, but there was no solid impact. It was a thick wad of papers Wolf had snatched from a nearby desk. The force of the punch caused the bundle to explode, sending another cloud of documents into the man’s face.

In the middle of this fresh distraction, Wolf pivoted. He swung his leg out in a high roundhouse, the strike catching the man squarely on the side of the head. The impact sent the man staggering, his body tilting dangerously to the side.

Wolf charged again, leading with his knee aimed directly at the man’s face to finish the bout. However, the man’s reflexes, bolstered by his gear, were just fast enough. His hands came up, blocking the knee strike and shoving outward with a burst of mechanical strength. The shove sent Wolf flying backward. He hit the ground hard, but used the momentum to perform a tactical roll, popping back up to his feet in a combat-ready crouch before the man could follow up.

"You! Why don’t you fight me properly instead of fighting with these dirty tricks?" the man shouted, his voice rasping with irritation. He gestured to the mess of the room. "Throwing papers everywhere and hitting me with those quick stabs... don’t you want to go head-to-head like a real man?"

Wolf let out a small, dry chuckle. "Hey," he said, tilting his head. "Those papers are quite precious. I’m sure there were some very important legal precedents in there. Although, these days everything has a digital backup, so the firm will be fine. And fighting fair? Aren’t you the one using a part-cyborg body or whatever that rig is?"

The man didn’t offer a rebuttal. He rushed forward, his boots heavy on the floor. Wolf reacted by hooking a nearby chair with the crook of his foot. With a practiced flick, he sent the chair spinning into the air, launching it directly at the charging member of the Gilt Rats.

The man caught the chair mid-flight, but his anger had reached a boiling point. He gripped the metal frame and pushed inward. Under the immense pressure of his grip, the entire chair crumpled and bent, shrinking to half its original size as the metal shrieked. He then flung the mangled ball of steel right back at Wolf.

As usual, Wolf twisted his body, the metal mass whistling past his ear. The man looked around, startled, searching for where Wolf would go next, until he realized Wolf was already right in front of him. Rather than ducking to the side to avoid the projectile, Wolf had ducked under the flying chair, using the man’s own attack as a screen to rush forward.

He flicked out his leg, kicking the man directly in the center of the chest. Again, Wolf felt it, that heavy, jarring thud against his foot. Even through the thick soles of his shoes, there was the unmistakable sensation of hitting something metallic and unyielding.

Quickly, Wolf rolled away, putting distance between them once more. He knew the man would be hot on his heels, so as he moved, he snatched up a heavy box of files and flung it. The box burst on impact, showering the man in another wave of white sheets.

Wolf took this chance to turn back. He was committed to the hit-and-run tactic, refusing to let the man settle into a rhythm.

’I’m just going to borrow this from a friend of mine!’ Wolf claimed internally, visualizing the explosive power of a comrade’s signature move. He spun his body in a tight, violent circle, building up massive centrifugal force. With the full power of the spin behind him, he swung his leg out and slammed it into the man’s chest exactly where he had struck before.

A loud, distinct cracking sound echoed through the legal department.

The force of the blow was enough to lift the man clean off his feet. He sailed backward, crashing through a partition before finally coming to a rest, lying flat on the floor, gasping for air.

Wolf stood over him, exhaling slowly. "I thought something was strange from the beginning," he said, his voice calm as he analyzed his opponent. "All of you lab coats have an exoskeleton, but I couldn’t see them clearly on your hands or limbs like the others I’ve encountered."

He watched the man struggle to rise. "Your movement was slower than what I expected as well, at least with your arms and when you were lifting those objects. It didn’t match the power you were showing. That’s because your exoskeleton isn’t a full suit. It’s a chest piece."

Wolf pointed toward the man’s torso. "It’s enhanced you in specific areas, like raw strength and the ability to crush things together. But the thing is, with these exoskeletons, you guys are making yourselves a rather large, easy target. You rely on the armor too much."

He stepped closer, his eyes cold. "A machine is a machine. And especially a prototype like the ones you guys are wearing... hit it in the same spot enough times and it will get destroyed. And what do you have to fall back on then? Just a man in a broken tin suit."

Despite his confident words, Wolf looked down at the man and felt a spark of genuine curiosity. Seeing how much raw power a single chest piece had granted this operative made him wonder. If a person had multiple pieces of these exoskeletons integrated together, arms, legs, and core, just how strong would they become? The thought of a fully armored "complete" version was a troubling prospect for the battles to come.