NOVEL WEB Chapter 92: Carribean Base (3)
Inside the Caribbean base command center, chaos reigned. Desperate voices filled the comms. "Leader, we've failed to intercept—" "Mayday! Ejecting now—!" "Save us—!"
Some pilots managed to pull their ejection handles just before their planes exploded. Their parachutes unfurled like white umbrellas, but their relief was short-lived. Zack's particle beams sliced through them mid-descent, leaving lifeless bodies floating gently toward the earth.
"In my skies, there's no such thing as a 'no-kill' rule for parachuters," Zack muttered coldly, watching the scene unfold below. He have no plan leaving behind uncertain factor, for him it's kill or be killed the moment they come to his doorstep. From start to finish, the battle lasted only one minute and twenty seconds. Nineteen fighter planes reduced to burning wreckage. Nineteen pilots dead. From the ground, the falling debris resembled a fiery metal rain.
Zack's voice cut through the comms again, this time directed at Caribbean base. "What's your next move?" His tone was icy, unrelenting as he accelerated toward the base.
Inside Caribbean base, the command room was dead silent as Zack's taunting voice echoed through the speakers. Dozens of red blips on their radar had vanished in less than two minutes. The three base leaders—Jock, Kshatti, and Navas—stared at the screen, their faces pale and drenched in cold sweat.
Jock slammed his fist on the console, his frustration boiling over. "What the hell is he even flying?! Not even an F-35 could take down nineteen fighters that quickly! Nineteen!" He seethed, glaring at the room of engineers and techs. "And you useless monkeys can't even get a clear satellite image of him!" He paced angrily, his voice rising with every word. "Nineteen planes! These weren't some toy drones—they were state-of-the-art fighters! And we still have no idea what we're dealing with!"
Kshatti raised a hand, trying to calm him down. "The priority now is stopping him," he said firmly, pointing at the radar. Zack's red dot was approaching the base at an alarming speed.
Jock took a deep breath, grabbed the microphone, and switched to the public channel. His voice, now forced into a mock-calm tone, echoed across the battlefield.
"I am Jock Forsman, leader of Caribbean base." He paused briefly before hurriedly adding, "One of the leaders." He continued, his tone shifting to one of strained diplomacy. "We didn't mean to provoke you. The two planes we sent earlier were only delivering a message, not attacking. Yet you've destroyed more than twenty of our fighters." He sighed, as if trying to appear magnanimous.
"Even so, we're willing to overlook this. Turn around now, and we won't pursue this matter further. Better yet…" He glanced at his fellow leaders, who nodded in silent agreement. "Join us. With your strength, you could become the fourth leader of Caribbean base. You must know—we're the most powerful base left in the world. Together, we can achieve even greater things."
Jock forced a smile, though it looked more like a grimace. "What do you say?"
About two or three seconds passed before Zack's joking voice echoed through the channel.
"I'll be flying over your base soon~" he teased. "You'd better start planning a grand ceremony to welcome your new leader. Otherwise, if the new leader gets upset, well…" He paused for dramatic effect. "The consequences might be… difficult to handle!"
He chuckled lightly, clearly enjoying his own performance.
Hearing that Jock and his group were considering recruiting him, Zack nearly burst out laughing. "Seriously? Looks like you guys haven't learned your lesson yet," he muttered with a smirk. Jock, on the other hand, wasn't amused. He understood Zack's mockery all too well. The polite, fake smile on his face vanished in an instant, replaced by a grim look.
"Fine. If that's how you want to play it, let me spell it out for you!" Jock snapped. "Our base has missile silos. Do you know what that means?" His voice was heavy with warning.
"Nuclear bombs, right?" Zack replied nonchalantly, his tone as calm as if they were discussing the weather. "Go ahead, fire away if you feel like it. I'll be there soon anyway, and no matter what you do, I'll still be faster." With that, Zack cut the communication abruptly.
"…What?" Jock and his group were stunned into silence. Who acts like that? Is he not afraid of a nuclear bomb? "It has to be a bluff!" Jock growled, trying to shake off his unease. "Nobody's crazy enough to not fear a nuclear bomb. Open the missile silo and target NYC City!"
"Sir, they've opened the missile silo," Ego informed calmly.
Through the LSI satellite's surveillance, every movement at the Caribbean base was being tracked. Nothing could escape their watchful eyes. "Let them do whatever they want," Zack replied, his anger start burning even further.
He cast a quick glance at the alert on his HUD but didn't bother reacting further. Whether or not they managed to launch missiles didn't matter. Even if they did, the state-of-the-art air defense system protecting NYC City could intercept them effortlessly. The tech was so advanced, it was like something out of a sci-fi movie.
"Where's the Avalon?" Zack asked, shifting focus to the positions of Ava and the others.
"They've crossed the border and are expected to reach the Caribbean base in about twenty minutes," Ego reported.
"Twenty minutes, huh?" Zack mused. "Looks like I'll be making the first move."
Engaging his thrusters to full power, Zack accelerated rapidly. His speed climbed steadily, reaching a jaw-dropping Mach 4.8. At such velocity, it wasn't long before the sprawling Caribbean base came into view on the horizon—a compound the size of a small town, stretching over several kilometers.
"Sir, anti-aircraft weapons have been deployed. Evasive maneuvers are recommended," Ego warned. At the edge of the base, anti-aircraft missiles roared to life, trailing long, fiery streaks as they locked onto Zack. Simultaneously, large-caliber anti-aircraft cannons began firing from armored vehicles stationed along the base's perimeter. The cannons thundered loudly, their shells exploding in the sky, scattering deadly shrapnel across Zack's flight path.
If Zack maintained his current speed, he would plow straight into the shrapnel field. Slowing down, however, would make him an easy target for the dozens of missiles chasing him. "Not bad. Old-school but effective," Zack remarked casually, as if critiquing a museum exhibit.
Instead of slowing down, he pushed his thrusters harder, barreling straight into the firestorm at nearly Mach 5. The result was a deafening cacophony of metal on metal as countless shards of shrapnel collided with his armor. However, the Apex suit, crafted from Ultralium alloy, barely took a scratch. The paintwork suffered a few scuffs at most, but the suit itself remained completely intact, shrugging off the impact like it was nothing.
The ground shook as anti-aircraft vehicles and short-range rotary cannons unleashed a relentless barrage. Streams of tracer rounds lit up the sky, forming fiery arcs that tracked Zack's movements. "Time to thread the needle," Zack muttered, activating his flaps. With precision only achievable by cutting-edge technology and immense skill, he wove through the hail of bullets and explosions, narrowly avoiding every deadly obstacle.