"Shit," Xavier muttered under his breath.
They were cutting off his eyes.
Some of his bots were still up, but without the jammers, the enemy's radar would start coming back online soon.
The mercs on foot were rallying now too. They had grouped up with the mechs, started forming defensive lines. Coordinated fire. Snipers. Turrets getting mounted. They weren't in panic anymore—they were fighting smart now.
One of the drones gave him one last view before cutting out. The ship, which was his main target, was guarded from all sides now.
The camp wasn't just reacting anymore.
They were counter-attacking.
And Xavier was still deep inside.
Still dressed like one of them.
Still moving through smoke and blood.
But now... he had to improvise.
He adjusted his glasses, checking which drones were still active. Only three feeds left. Most were down.
His smart gun pinged, reloading. His body tensed.
"Alright," he whispered to himself. "Guess we're doing this the hard way."
