From Titan Corporation to the Empire of Man

Chapter 707 "What the hell is that monster again?"

Deep inside the subway, the air was filled with the smell of dampness and rust.

Thump, thump!

The three surviving special police officers ran through the dark tunnel, their boots making a dull, rapid sound as they stepped on the dust and puddles.

Whew!
Their heavy breathing, mingled with the clanging of guns and equipment, echoed for a long time in the narrow tunnel, like an invisible alarm bell reminding them.
Time is running out.

At this point, concealing their whereabouts was out of the question. All three knew that if they continued to hesitate, the shelter might be caught up by the Blood Cross and fall before they could return.

This mission, which was supposed to be just a routine reconnaissance and resupply operation, turned into a complete rout.

The loss of half of their colleagues had everyone on edge, but what weighed heavily on their hearts was the fact that they hadn't heard the captain's final explosion.

Several improvised bombs were their last hope for survival.

But now, there is neither fire nor roar; everything seems to be swallowed by darkness.

"Captain...who exactly is he...?"

As one of the special police officers ran, he couldn't help but whisper in a low voice, his tone filled with unease and fear. He dared not utter the worst thoughts.

The other man remained silent, his fingers gripping the rifle turning white.

They all understood that if even the captain failed to self-destruct, and might have already become an infected member of the Blood Cross, then the safety of the entire shelter would be completely exposed.

At that time, even the sturdiest iron gate deep underground will be nothing more than an unstoppable coffin lid.

They dared not think too much and could only quicken their pace.

Soon after, an inconspicuous iron gate appeared at the end of the tunnel; it was the disguised entrance to the subway workshop.

The footprints at the entrance were messy, and there were traces of manual mopping on the ground.

The three stopped, exchanged glances, their breathing still rapid, but they forced themselves to suppress their panic.

One of the SWAT officers took a deep breath, raised his hand, and quickly knocked on the door.

Three long, two short.

The rhythm is clear, crisp, and efficient.

After a brief silence, the sound of metal scraping came from inside the door.

Then, with a "click," the heavy iron door slowly opened, revealing a narrow gap.

Behind the gap were a pair of bloodshot eyes, sharp and cautious, which only relaxed slowly when they recognized the person who had come in.

It's you guys.

The person who opened the door was an elderly police officer with graying hair. He was thin, but he still gripped an old pump-action shotgun tightly, the muzzle gleaming coldly in the dim light.

The old police officer's voice was hoarse, seemingly carrying the heaviness of years of smoking and exhaustion.

When he realized that only three people had returned, a look of surprise and pain flashed across his face.

But he quickly suppressed his emotions and regained his composure, though his hands subtly tightened their grip on the shotgun.

"What about the rest?"

These few words, like stones crashing into the tunnel, made the air even heavier.

The three special police officers remained silent, their eyes lowered. Their silence spoke volumes.

The old policeman's eyes twitched slightly, and the wrinkles on his face seemed to deepen.

"Okay, I understand."

He nodded slowly, his sigh echoing in the narrow passageway, carrying a sense of helpless sorrow.

He didn't ask any further questions, because the answer was already written on the three figures covered in dust and blood.

The veteran officer stepped aside to make way and whispered, "Come in, but don't let anything outside smell it."

The three filed in, and the iron gate was closed behind them again. The heavy lock clicked shut, shutting out the cold and bloodshed from the outside world.

However, they all knew in their hearts that even the thickest iron gate might not be able to keep out the coming storm.

Upon entering the "workspace," the space suddenly becomes much more open.

The survivors had transformed this place into a temporary shelter, with dim light bulbs hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the scattered beds, makeshift tables and chairs, and piles of supplies.

The dozens of survivors were either sitting or lying down. Most of them were pale and had tired eyes, like a group of animals driven to the brink of despair, alert and numb.

When the three special police officers appeared, many people turned their gazes toward them, their eyes filled with anticipation and questions.

When they saw how few people there were and that they had returned empty-handed, the air fell into a deathly silence once again.

A young mother instinctively hugged her feverish child tightly, her eyes filled with unease. A middle-aged man's Adam's apple bobbed, as if he wanted to speak, but in the end he just clenched his teeth and couldn't make a sound.

Disappointment, sadness, fear.
These emotions spread silently.

The three special police officers felt even more uneasy.

They knew that everyone was waiting for them to bring back an answer, an answer that was more despairing than death itself.

The veteran officer stepped to the front of the crowd and said in a deep voice, "They have done their best."

Those few words, however brief, brought forth a torrent of grief that filled the shelter.

Some people sobbed softly, some sat helplessly on the ground covering their faces, and many more just gritted their teeth and forced back their tears.

This cramped subway work area was once again shrouded in despair.

But no one dared to cry out loud, no one dared to ask too many questions. Everyone knew very well that the outside world could swallow them up completely at any moment.

In the dead silence, the three SWAT officers exchanged glances, a heavier thought rising in their minds—

If the captain really fails to hold on and becomes a member of the Blood Cross, then their hideout probably won't last much longer.

“We must evacuate immediately; this place will eventually be exposed to them,” a SWAT officer said gravely. “We must carry out an emergency evacuation right now.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the air in the entire shelter seemed to freeze, so heavy that it was hard to breathe.

Under the dim light, the plan proposed by the three special police officers was like a sharp blade, piercing straight into the hearts of every survivor.

At that moment, a SWAT officer noticed all the remaining improvised explosive devices piled up on the corner of the table. The crude devices, pieced together from discarded parts, seemed to exude a cold aura in the air, like the whisper of death itself.

“If we act as bait,” the SWAT officer began, his voice hoarse, as if each word had been uttered with immense effort.
"Drawing away the Blood Cross will at least leave everyone a way to survive."

As soon as he finished speaking, a cacophony of dissent erupted in the shelter.

"Absolutely not!"

"What will we do if you leave? There's only one old police officer left here, and even guarding the gate will be a problem!"

"We can't hold on for more than a few days! Without you, it's the same as giving up!"

Emotions exploded instantly, fear, anger, and despair intertwined like a flood about to burst its banks.

Some people slammed their hands on the table with trembling hands, their eyes red and swollen. Others hugged their families tightly and shook their heads desperately, afraid that these last remaining guardians would be taken away in the next second.

The three SWAT officers' faces grew even more grim. They understood the fear these people had, but reason told them that the shelter was not a long-term solution.

If the Blood Cross really does find this place by following the trail, then the so-called waiting is just postponing death by a few hours. The old police officer slowly raised his shotgun, remained silent for a long time, and then spoke: "I know what you mean, but without your protection, these people won't last a week at all. If you leave, they, including me, will just wait to die."

His words weren't heavy, but they weighed on everyone's hearts like lead.

Indeed, the SWAT team was the last line of defense for this group.

They are familiar with tactics, proficient in firearms, and possess the courage and experience to go head-to-head with the Blood Cross.

If they also leave, the shelter's thick iron gates and meticulous defenses will be nothing more than paper walls.

A young SWAT officer gritted his teeth, his fists clenched tightly, and looked at the survivors before him, his eyes filled with struggle and resentment:
"But if we do nothing, everyone will still die when the Blood Cross finds this place."

This sentence silenced everyone.

Yes, not doing anything means being passively exploited.

If we do it, there might still be a glimmer of hope.

But human nature is such that when faced with death, few people are willing to willingly die.

A trembling whisper came from the crowd: "Then let's die together. At least dying here is better than starving to death."

These words acted as a fuse, turning the brief silence in the shelter into suppressed sobs. Most people simply stared numbly at the ground, as if they had already accepted their fate.

Ultimately, everyone made their choice—

Maintaining the status quo.

Since they could neither escape nor find another refuge, the only thing they could do was to stay here and fight to the death.

Even if the Blood Cross does find them, they will fight to the last drop of blood.

This decision is not true courage, but a kind of helpless stubbornness, like a herd of beasts with nowhere to run, even knowing that the hunter's gun is ahead, they will still do their best to fight back, even if it is just to win a dignified end for themselves.

The three special police officers had extremely complex expressions. Disappointment flashed deep in their eyes, but it quickly turned into a cold and resolute expression.

They knew that this was not the optimal solution, but it was the choice that most people were willing to accept.

"In that case, we will stay with everyone and stand guard."

The lead SWAT officer finally spoke, his tone low and firm.

These words were like a promise, gradually calming the panicked crowd. However, they only clung tightly to their loved ones, as if they were the only lifeline they could grasp at that moment.

The old police officer nodded, his wrinkles deepening.

He knew full well what this decision meant, but he said nothing more. He slowly walked to the iron gate, stroked the rusty lock, and a determined light flashed in his eyes.

"Then we'll hold out until the very last moment."

Under the dim light, the air seemed to be filled with a chilling atmosphere.

Immediately afterwards, every survivor began to prepare silently. They picked up any usable tools, moved the piled-up supplies, and tried their best to transform their already rudimentary shelter into a final fortress.

At this moment, they were no longer exiles struggling to survive, but warriors destined to face their fateful battle in this underground tunnel.

Even with their last breath, they will struggle until their blood runs dry and their lamp goes out.

Not long after.
Thump, thump!

From the moment the low footsteps came from outside, everyone held their breath, like a pack of startled wild beasts.

The children clung tightly to their parents' clothes, their eyes filled with fear, while the adults gripped their makeshift weapons tightly, beads of cold sweat forming on their foreheads.

The SWAT officers quickly adjusted their tactical stance, raising their guns high and aiming them neatly at the rusty gate. The veteran officer stood at the front, gripping his shotgun with both hands, his eyes cold and stern.

The footsteps gradually stopped.

In that instant, all the heartbeats in the shelter seemed to freeze, and you could even hear the sound of blood flowing in the air.

The children's sobs were tightly covered by their parents, and the entire space fell into a deathly silence.

Phew——!
The sudden sound was like a sharp blade slicing through an iron plate, piercing straight to the heart.

Everyone was on edge. Suddenly, a blinding red line appeared on the surface of the heavy metal gate, accompanied by a burning smell and flying iron filings. It was clear that some kind of high-energy laser was cutting through the gate.

"They've found us."

A young SWAT officer murmured, his finger trembling slightly with tension, yet still on the trigger.

The children began to tremble, their cries sounding particularly jarring in the silence.

The veteran officer gritted his teeth and growled in a low voice, "Nobody make a sound!"

However, the cutting sound continued, sparks splashed into the dust under the door, and wisps of white smoke rose up, like the prelude to death.

Bang-!
With a deafening roar, the heavy metal door finally shattered under the violent impact and collapsed to the ground.

In that instant, the SWAT officers and veteran officers almost instinctively pulled the trigger.

Boom—rat-a-tat-tat—!
The roar of shotguns and assault rifles echoed in the confined space, muzzle flashes erupting as bullets rained down on the dark figure at the doorway.

However, what came was not the enemy's cries of agony, but—

Ding! Clang! Ding!
Instead, it was the crisp, metallic sound of steel being struck, clear and piercing.

The bullets had no penetrating power; when they hit the target, it was like hitting a thick iron wall, sparks flew, but they couldn't budge the target in the slightest.

The tense atmosphere completely collapsed at that moment.

Finally, the enormous creature appeared before everyone's eyes.

It was a giant nearly four meters tall, its entire body covered in heavy armor, like a mobile steel fortress.

Rather than a "person", it is more like a walking weapon of war.

He wore a dark trench coat-like cloak that swayed gently with his movements, but it couldn't conceal his heavy, mountain-like metal armor.

Every edge of the armor gleamed with a cold luster, and the shoulder armor, breastplate, and arm guards were engraved with numbers.

In fact, these were not ordinary soldiers, but one of the biological weapons created by the human empire—

tyrant.

The tyrant's eyes emitted a cold beam of light from the red optics beneath his helmet, sweeping across the entire shelter like a sharp blade.

It was a cold and ruthless gaze, devoid of any humanity, carrying only the chilling and oppressive atmosphere of the battlefield.

!!!

For a moment, people's breathing stopped, and the weapons in their hands seemed to become useless toys. They couldn't even muster the courage to continue firing.

The veteran officer's forehead veins bulged as he held his shotgun firmly, blocking the way for the crowd.

He understood that the enemy before him was not someone they could contend with, but as the last line of defense for the survivors, he had to stand there.

"What the hell is that monster again?"

A special police officer gritted his teeth, cold sweat trickling down his temples, his voice almost hoarse.

The tyrant stood silently, his broad breastplate rising and falling slightly with his breath, while the aftershocks of numerous footsteps still echoed through the tunnel.
(End of this chapter)