From Bullets To Billions Chapter 621: What A Boss Should Do

The man wearing the Exoskeleton scanned the room, his eyes bulging in shock. Together, the Gilt Rat thugs and Black Hounds outnumbered the Bloodline crew by a wide margin. They were supposed to crush them without effort. Then why had nearly every fighter in the media room already fallen? And crucially, why weren't reinforcements rushing in anymore?

Only at that moment did realization hit him—no more aid was coming. No pounding footsteps climbed the stairs, no yells echoed through the halls, absolutely no backup. A shiver of dread snaked up his back.

Am I imagining things... no way that's possible, is it? he wondered, eyeing the corpses littering the floor and the Bloodline fighters closing in around him.

"You!" he bellowed out of nowhere, jabbing a finger toward Joe. "You set this up deliberately, didn't you? Explains why you kept scurrying away from me everywhere! You were taking out all our guys just to gain the advantage here!"

Joe blinked in surprise, then gradually took in the surroundings. Corpses littered the place. His Bloodline allies stood poised behind him. Gilt Rats and Black Hounds lay sprawled, out cold or moaning in pain.

Hold on... this happened because of my actions? I was pummeling them before the scientists' reinforcements showed up. We'd already balanced the fight. As they chased me, I cleared whoever blocked my path... and now it's like this?

While the Exoskeleton wearer was convinced Joe had orchestrated it all, Joe knew full well it was pure coincidence. A wild, sloppy, utterly accidental mess.

Noticing the chance, the Bloodline crew surged forward.

The initial Bloodline fighter to close in brought his baton crashing down with maximum power. Yet the Gilt Rat enforcer parried it using his powered arm. He didn't just block—he shattered the baton in two.

Next, his free arm lashed out, slamming a Bloodline thug square in the gut and hurling him airborne. He whirled to nail another, flinging both tumbling away. Luckily, their light armor cushioned the blows somewhat. Joe understood that punch's raw power intimately. Unprotected, it would've been lethal.

"Whether I'm alone or surrounded," the Exoskeleton user declared with a smirk, "this setup is ideal for collecting data on group fights versus solo ones!"

Both arms lifted, primed for the onslaught.

Give them credit, the Bloodline fighters refused to retreat. Despite the failed initial strikes, they kept pressing on, aiming to bury him under sheer numbers. Pipes, batons, and improvised tools whistled through the air as they hunted for weaknesses.

A powerful fist hurtled toward one fighter's face, halted only when someone leaped in its path.

"YOU!" the man roared upon recognizing the intruder.

Joe.

The strike collided with Joe's upraised palm. He absorbed part of the impact, but far from all. It powered through anyway, exploding against his face in a blaze of agony that rocked his head.

Teeth clenched, Joe seized the Exoskeleton user's arm in a double-handed vise.

"Hey, if there's one thing I'm great at, it's absorbing punishment," Joe growled through gritted teeth. "And as a Ranger, that sorta makes me the leader here. So taking a couple blows for the team? No big deal!"

He clung fast, unyielding even as the foe cocked his other fist.

Joe jerked his head side to side, dodging a facial hit. The punch landed on his ribs instead. A crack echoed as one snapped, stabbing inward. Torment ripped across his chest, yet his hold stayed ironclad.

I can recover from this. But for them... one such hit might end it all. Pain fades. Death doesn't.

Once more, the Exoskeleton user drew back his arm for a crushing follow-up.

Yet prior to the swing, a bat cracked against the rear of his skull. It connected solidly, and more blows rained down right after—targeting his legs and exposed areas.

Just the arms benefited from Exoskeleton protection. The rest lay open to assault. The head blow dazed his sight. Leg strikes buckled his knees to the ground.

That created their perfect window.

The Bloodline team piled on, hammering blow after blow without mercy. No opportunity for recovery, air, or retaliation. Each strike eroded his stamina until at last,

Joe sensed the grip in those fingers slacken.

Down crashed the Exoskeleton user to the floor.

"Stop! Stop!" Joe yelled, his command slicing through the frenzy.

The Bloodline fighters pulled back, panting hard, weapons poised warily.

"Joe, you certain?" one questioned. "This bastard, all of them—they'd slaughter us and you in a heartbeat. We gotta finish him off proper."

Joe ignored the fallen foe entirely.

Crouched nearby, his gaze fixed on the Exoskeleton limbs.

"No, you morons, forget the guy," Joe snapped, eyeing the gear with an irritated huff. "That equipment... crap. One arm's totally wrecked. But hey... the other's still functional."

The team had feared that enemy device enough to smash it first, ensuring it couldn't turn against them.

With a heavy sigh, he pressed his fractured ribs, blood trickling along his jawline.

Half-damaged or not, that Exoskeleton limb could prove valuable.

And Joe had zero intention of wasting it.

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