Chapter 73: The Factory War

 

Moscow. "Red October" Factory. 11:15 AM.

BOOM. Another section of the factory wall collapsed as the Crimson Guard’s APC fired its 30mm cannon. "They brought a tank to a gunfight!" Ivan yelled, laughing maniacally as he fired an RPG from behind a crate of AK-47s. WOOSH. BANG. The rocket hit the APC’s tracks, blowing them off. The vehicle spun out, crashing into a pillar.

"Go! Go! Go!" Dozens of elite Syndicate soldiers poured out of the smoke, moving in tactical formation. They wore red armbands. They didn't scream. They killed efficiently.

"Harper! High ground!" Sebastian’s voice crackled over the comms. It sounded synthetic, filtered through the helmet’s modulator.

"On it," Harper grabbed the AS Val suppressed rifle. She scrambled up a ladder to the overhead crane walkway. She looked down through her scope. Breath in. Breath out. Pfft. Pfft. Two soldiers dropped, holes in their visors.

But there were too many of them. "They are flanking us!" Harper shouted. "Ivan's men are pinned down!"

"Not for long," Sebastian said.

---

[The Ghost in the Armor]

From the shadows of the assembly line emerged a figure. Matte black armor. Glowing red eyes (the thermal HUD). Hydraulic servos hissing with every step. Sebastian Sterling.

A squad of five soldiers saw him. They opened fire. RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT. Bullets sparked against the ceramic plating of the exoskeleton. Sebastian didn't run for cover. He walked through the fire.

He raised his right arm. The suit's integrated gauntlet gun fired. Bang. Bang. Bang. Three headshots. Perfect accuracy. The serum slowed down his perception of time; the suit compensated for the recoil.

Two soldiers charged him with combat knives. Sebastian caught the first man’s wrist. With the hydraulic assist, he snapped the arm like a dry twig. He spun and kicked the second man in the chest. CRUNCH. The man flew twenty feet, smashing into a forklift.

"He's a monster!" one of the surviving soldiers screamed in Russian.

"No," Sebastian’s amplified voice boomed. "I am the CEO."

He grabbed a heavy machine gun turret ripped from a destroyed jeep. It weighed 80 pounds. He held it with one hand. BRRRRRRRT. A wall of lead tore through the enemy cover. Wood splintered. Concrete exploded. The Crimson Guard retreated in panic.

On the catwalk, Harper watched in awe. This wasn't just fighting. It was... math. Sebastian was calculating angles, velocity, and structural integrity in real-time. He was dismantling an army like he dismantled a bad business deal.

---

[The Submarine]

"Ivan!" Sebastian threw the empty machine gun aside. "The exit!"

"Under the blast furnace!" Ivan shouted, reloading his golden pistol (he had a spare). "Dr. Braun! Stop crying and move!"

Dr. Braun was hiding under a tank, clutching his medical bag. "I'm a pacifist! I'm a pacifist!" Harper jumped down from the catwalk, grabbed Braun by the collar, and dragged him. "Today, you're a sprinter!"

They reached a massive industrial elevator. Ivan punched a code. The floor dropped. Down. Down. Down. Into the dark, flooded basements of Soviet Moscow.

The elevator opened into a subterranean canal. Floating there, dark and ominous, was a rusty behemoth. Project 877 "Paltus" (Kilo-class Submarine).

"She's old," Ivan patted the hull lovingly. "But she's quiet."

"Get on board!" Sebastian ordered, covering the rear.

From the elevator shaft above, rappelling lines dropped. The Crimson Guard was following them down. "Flashbangs!" Harper threw three grenades into the shaft. BANG! BANG! BANG! White light blinded the attackers.

They scrambled across the gangplank and into the sub's hatch. Ivan stayed on the dock.

"Aren't you coming?" Harper yelled.

"This is my city," Ivan grinned, lighting a cigar. "Besides, someone has to blow the tunnel so they can't follow you." He held up a detonator. "Say hello to America for me, Sebastian! And don't forget my distribution rights!"

Sebastian looked at his old friend/enemy. "Give them hell, Ivan."

"I always do."

---

[The Dive]

They sealed the hatch. The submarine smelled of diesel, cabbage, and sweat. The captain, a bearded man who looked like Santa Claus if Santa was an alcoholic, shouted orders. "Dive! Dive! Dive!"

Klaxon. The sub lurched. Water flooded the ballast tanks. Outside, a massive explosion shook the canal. Ivan had blown the tunnel. rocks and concrete sealed the entrance forever.

Sebastian stood in the Command Center, still wearing his armor. He watched the depth gauge. 50 meters... 100 meters... 200 meters.

"We are clear," the captain announced. "Running silent."

Sebastian took off his helmet. His face was drenched in sweat. His nose was bleeding slightly. The adrenaline crash hit him hard. He stumbled.

"Sebastian!" Harper caught him.

"I'm fine," Sebastian leaned against the periscope. "Just... overheating." The suit was heavy. The serum was burning calories faster than he could replenish them.

Dr. Braun checked his pulse. "140 beats per minute. Resting. You need glucose. Now." He shoved a chocolate bar (stolen from Ivan's stash) into Sebastian’s mouth.

Sebastian ate it. He looked at Harper. She was checking her rifle, wiping oil from her cheek. She looked exhausted but alive. "We're underwater," Harper whispered. "They can't track us here."

"Not yet," Sebastian looked at the sonar screen. "We have to cross the Arctic Circle. Under the ice." "To Alaska."

He looked at the map. A red line stretched from Moscow, under the North Pole, to the wild coast of Alaska. "Get some sleep, Harper," Sebastian said softly. "It's going to be a long, cold night."