The Metahuman Agency: The Superhuman War

Pushing Back

And now...

Now he was gone.

The Director looked back up. She stared at the monitors. Glimpses of soldiers running through hallways, security guards engaging in firefights with enemy combatants, staff members fleeing for their lives unfolded on them. The technician looked at her, his face practically white. "M-ma'am?" He asked.

The Director rubbed her face. She was doing this. She was now responsible for the death of her closest and perhaps only true friend. So many more were dying but this one...this one was truly hitting home.

"Ma'am!" One technician cried helplessly. "What should we do?"

"We've got casualties in floors thirty eight through forty 1!" Another techician yelled.

"Security Forces B and C have been wiped out!"

"Hostiles breaching external perimeters!"

The Director narrowed her eyes. Damn her. But she shakily stood and despite how painful it was, pushed Robertson from her mind. She needed to do her job. No...she had to do it. She needed to stand strong and be the rock that she had always been. She couldn't be compromised. She couldn't feel. She was the Director and she needed to lead.

She strode back to the monitors. She looked them over and barked, "How many staff have made it to the bunker?"

One technician looked at one of the monitors and typed something into his computer. He quickly swiveled around and said, "Fifteen ma'am."

"Fifteen?!" That was barely one percent of the entire personnel of the base. She gritted her teeth and turned to another technician. "What security squads are currently not engaged with the enemy?"

The techician looked over her computer and looked it over. A moment later, she reported, "Squads E and H, ma'am."

"Tell them to prioritize staff rescue. Do not engage the enemy unless absolutely necessary. Escort as many staff members as they can to the bunker."

The technician nodded and quickly began repeating the Director's order into her headset. The Director, folding her arms. This was a shitshow but hopefully, the metahuman team would join the fight and pick up the slack. However, it seemed alarming that the enemy had metahumans of their own.

She knows what this place is. You know that. She's prepared. She knows she couldn't take your team on with normal troops.

One of the technicians looked up from his computer. "Ma'am! We have movement detected. Some sort of object fast moving through the hangar silo."

"What?" She leaned over his shoulder. He pulled a view of the Hangar on his computer. Dozens of dead staff members lay on the floor, lying in mountains of blood, ravaged by gunfire. The Panther and The Behemoth lay nearby, untouched. She gritted her teeth. "It could another missile. Brace for-"

Then a figure landed in the center of the chamber. It looked like a person but wearing a metal suit of sorts. The Director narrowed her eyes. "Zoom in." She ordered. The technician obeyed, the camera zooming in closer to the figure.

Now she could see it in closer range. The figure was indeed wearing a metal suit, its design almost avian. The figure's helmeted face was bird-like in appearance and it was wearing what looked like a jet pack. Two metal wings extended from the pack, resembling bird wings. A minigun and a grenade launcher were mounted on the figure's wrists. The figure's wings folded and it began to stride forward, moving slowly, its huge feet kicking aside bodies.

"What...what is that?" The technician stammered.

"Doesn't look like a metahuman..." The Director hissed. "I'd imagine its either one of her mercenaries wearing a suit of advanced powered armor or a robot. But I'm sure it's going to be bad news. She always did have a head for designing weapons..." She stood back up. "Keep track of it. See if we can't slow it down, or hell, stop it." She turned the other technicians. "Any luck with getting through the jamming frequency?"