From Bullets To Billions Chapter 639: The End Of the Battle (Part 1)

~4 minute read · 876 words
Previously on From Bullets To Billions...
Max systematically dismantled the remnants of Ramon's exoskeleton with precise, powerful kicks, exploiting the scientist's predictable movements and superior skill gap. Despite total mechanical failure, Ramon charged blindly and was hurled across the arena by Max's devastating strike, followed by both ankles shattered to immobilize him. Max condemned Ramon for turning business rivalry into violence, as Ramon probed about Max's ties to the Invitation—which Max denied—moments before the battered Rangers, Na, and Darno arrived triumphant.

Ramon lay in utter disbelief, his mind staggered by the harsh truth of his defeat at Max's hands. He simply refused to accept it—his strategies had been impeccable, his tech unmatched. Still, sprawled on the ground, just one stark explanation emerged for the unthinkable: his opponent possessed superhuman prowess. Ramon hadn't realized this earlier because Max's skills lacked flashy displays. They weren't glaringly apparent during the clash.

Max had merely appeared a touch stronger, quicker, and tougher than an elite athlete. Yet Ramon forced himself to recall his own full-body exoskeleton—a pinnacle of engineering, blazingly swift and immensely potent. For any ordinary human to shatter such premium gear using only fists and feet, as Max had, demanded a superhuman physique as the sole rational conclusion.

Even more baffling was how his entire elite squad, armored in matching exoskeletons and hardened by decades of combat, had also crumbled in their fights. This was an Organization-tier syndicate, powerful enough to overthrow minor regimes. They had surged from obscurity, climbing ranks at breakneck speed. Could they harbor deeper mysteries than even the Stern family?

'How is that possible?' Ramon pondered, breaths ragged and shallow. 'They must've scouted all these perfect allies, overlooked gems no one else noticed. Hidden talents lurking in the dark.'

'No, that doesn't add up,' he refuted inwardly. 'Big-time syndicates and crews would've thrown fat deals their way if they were that elite. No cause to back a rookie like Max. Unless... he cultivated them himself, shaping them from the ground up into what they are today. That alone fits.'

Yet even that twisted logic felt off to him. Picturing such a youthful boss with the vision and magnetic pull to forge a devoted, deadly core team from nothing stretched credulity.

"It looks like the fight is over," Max declared, his words slicing into Ramon's whirling mind. Max caught a peculiar high-pitched whine, then spotted it: a drone descending from the beams, its lens fixed on them like an electronic stare.

"This is Vivian," a voice static-ed over the comms. "I've positioned drones on every level to film the closing scenes, and now I'm streaming the footage across all screens in the facility. One of your men even hauled a heavy-duty projector to the building's front, letting the outside crowds witness the outcome firsthand."

At that instant, every display inside the structure and the huge projection glowing on the outer walls broadcast the irrefutable proof of the Black Hounds' downfall. Gilt Rats members gazed upon their top warriors defeated, Ramon—their scheming boss—crumpled on the platform. Victorious foes stood tall by comparison, outlined dramatically against the arena's glow.

"You... have lost this war," Max stated, advancing toward the drone and staring straight into the lens. His gaze burned icy and relentless. "And if you don't stop fighting right now, I promise I won't spare a single one of you. This is your final warning."

Across the facility, ongoing fighters, the wounded sprawled below, and those tempted to rise again halted dead. The live feed sparked grave doubts. Some suspected trickery—a fake, deepfake, or staged clip designed to shatter spirits.

Others had beheld the peak showdown directly. Some shared the chamber of that decisive brawl. They spotted Jett unmoving on the ground, felled by the Rangers. They saw their scientist leader toppled at last. If those sights rang true, their whole front's disintegration likely was too.

A handful led the way first, choosing surrender and flight while life remained. Weapons clanged to the floors amid echoing halls as they bolted for their rides. When comrades witnessed the deserters, panic contagion exploded. Hope evaporated. Mere headcount was all they clutched, yet doubts loomed against the beasts who'd crushed the Black Hounds. Each one chose retreat to cars, vanishing into the darkness.

While a few possessed the courtesy to haul their downed comrades along, pulling them into the backs of vans, others just left them lying on the frigid earth. However, one fact stood out unmistakably: this massive brawl had finally reached its end.

"It looks like the Gilt Rats and Black Hounds have officially left the building," Vivian confirmed, her voice carrying a tone of relief.

Right as the tension snapped, Joe began slumping backward, his legs at last buckling beneath him. He collapsed to the floor with a resounding, hefty thump that shocked everyone around.

"Are you okay?" Stephen inquired, hurrying to his side.

"You know, after getting beaten up and hit so much tonight, I think I’m starting to get a little numb to all of the pain," Joe said, a tired grin crossing his battered features. "I think I might be going crazy as well."

"I think we all might be going crazy," Wolf chimed in, resting against a column while clearing blood from his eyes. "And for some reason, I don’t think the ride is going to be stopping here. This was just one hurdle."

"The real question is, what do we do with them now, right?" Stephen wondered, pointing at the defeated enemy leaders. "What’s going to happen to the Gilt Rats after tonight?"