John sat in the back of a van with a few other soldiers who stared at him, either in fear, or admiration. He was two heads bigger than all of them. He looked at the one across of him, “Do we have a problem? You keep staring at me.”

“No, sir, no, we don’t have a problem,” the soldier quickly looked away.

John grinned, “I am just messing, I have been on your side for a long time, I have just been, upgraded.” The van stopped, the door opened, John looked at a piece of wasteland, destroyed streets and buildings sat near the barricade, rebels and Voodoopunks were fighting soldiers, this was an almost never ending thing. Battles occurring on the sides of the border.

The air hung heavy with the acrid scent of burning debris, and the broken remnants of once sturdy buildings jutted out like skeletal remains against the overcast sky.

Crumbled structures formed a jagged skyline, their shattered windows and exposed rebar telling the tale of a city that was torn apart by conflict. Streets that once bustled with life now served as a battleground, littered with the detritus of war abandoned vehicles. Overturned barricades, and the occasional flicker of a damaged streetlamp. There was smoke and debris everywhere as guns were fired, Voodoopunks threw mystic energy around.

A figure emerged from the smoke and debris, a harbinger of destruction and relentless power. It was John, the newly transformed super soldier who decided to enter the fray. His metallic arm glinting ominously in the fractured sunlight. The soldiers on the frontline paused, a mix of awe and trepidation filled the air as they witnessed the arrival of this formidable force.

The Voodoopunks and rebels, engaged in fierce combat, momentarily halted their onslaught as they realized the gravity of the situation. John’s crimson mechanical eye scanned the battlefield, calculating his approach with ruthless precision. He moved with an almost supernatural speed, closing the distance between himself and the opposing forces in the blink of an eye.

The first to feel the wrath of the super soldier were the Voodoopunks. John’s mechanical arm unleashed a torrent of fire, engulfing several cult members in searing flames. Their dark attire offered little protection as they screamed and burned, their mystic symbols powerless against the overwhelming force of his flamethrower.

With a swift and brutal efficiency, John incapacitated Voodoopunks with a combination of hand-to-hand combat and the devastating capabilities of his enhanced strength. His mechanical arm delivered bone crushing blows, and the rebels, witnessing this onslaught, hesitated, their morale crumbled under the might of the super soldier.

The remainder of rebels and Voodoopunks attempted to regroup, but John moved like a force of nature, plowing through their ranks with unstoppable momentum. His enhanced muscles allowed him to lift and hurl debris with ease, creating makeshift projectiles that sent rebels sprawling. The streets became a battlefield littered with fallen adversaries as John’s relentless assault continued.

The soldiers, initially stunned by the arrival of their mechanical ally, now rallied behind him. With John leading the charge, they advanced with renewed vigor, pushing the rebels and Voodoopunks into a disorganized retreat. The once defiant rebels found themselves overwhelmed by the sheer brutality of John’s attacks and the disciplined advance of the military forces.

As John fought, his face remained an expressionless mask, devoid of emotion. His movements were a deadly dance, a symphony of destruction that left a path of devastation in its wake. The rebels, caught between the military and the super soldier, found their resistance shattered.

The cries of the defeated echoed through the broken streets as John, the super soldier, stood amidst the wreckage. The soldiers, emboldened by this display of overwhelming power, secured their victory over the Voodoopunks and rebels. The once contested battleground now lay silent, a testament to the devastating force that had single handedly turned the tide of war in favor of the military regime.

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John grunted, “That was barely a challenge,” he looked at the soldiers who were returning to the border to protect it. He noticed a shadow in the alleyway. John, stepping on corpses he had left behind, made his way to the shadow.

Byron stepped out of the shadow, not recognizing him, “Who are you?”

“I am, the Iron Golem, and I have just stopped your assault on our border. This territorial border is not yours any longer, it is ours. You can surrender, I will crush all the rebels, and the Voodoopunks too.”

Byron gritted his teeth as he looked at all the corpses, he saw blood everywhere. “You are the super soldier, you are already here. Oh my god, this is horrible.” He started chanting to entrance him, “Dolly, oh, dolly!”

John tilted his head, “I am no longer a man, your chants do not work on me.”

Byron, realized how fucked he was, immediately stopped. “Can we talk about this? You know, like peaceful people?”

John grinned, “I am no longer people, you want to talk, I have no interest in a conversation, I will let you go, do you know why?”

Byron frowned his eyebrow, “Tell me, why?”

“So you can tell your cult, your rebels, your leaders, how fucked you are. There is no way you can beat me, your whole army could not put a dent in me.”

Byron looked at his dead comrades, “You killed them, like they were nothing. Does it even haunt you?”

“No, it does not, they are the reason I lost everything. The military will take back control, we will take our districts back from you. I am going to start with stopping the assaults on our border. Then I am going to the rebel hideout and squeeze the life out of them.”

Byron grunted, “Let me guess, your next target will be my base, and my loved ones?”

John slowly nodded, “You guessed correctly, you are a quick learner. Let my show of power here,” he gestured at the corpses, “Be a sign that you cannot win, I was barely getting started.” He played with his mechanical hand, “I am still getting used to this.”

Byron had been mumbling in between and gathering a lot of mystical energy that slowly formed into a blade, John gasped, as he noticed.

John’s mechanical arm glinted menacingly as he advanced, a silent and unstoppable force. His crimson mechanical eye scanned Byron, assessing the opponent before him. Byron, despite his magical prowess and leadership skills, understood the magnitude of the threat that stood before him.

As the first strike was unleashed, the impact resonated through the desolate landscape. Byron, relying on his agility and mystical abilities, danced around John’s powerful blows. The super soldier’s strength was undeniable, but Byron’s connection to the mystic energies granted him a level of reflexes that defied the limits of all human capability.

Sparks flew as John’s mechanical arm clashed with Byron’s enchanted blade he had conjured as John talked. The clash of metal and magic echoed through the war torn streets, a testament to the clash of ideologies and powers. Byron, drawing upon the residual magic within the area, wove protective spells to deflect the onslaught of a mechanical force.

The battle unfolded with a frenetic intensity, both combatants pushing themselves to their limits. John’s physical might and resilience were matched by Byron’s mystical finesse and strategic acumen. The skirmish was a symphony of destruction, leaving a trail of shattered debris and crackling magical energy in its wake.

Despite Byron’s skill and determination, the relentless power of the super soldier began to take its toll. A powerful blow from John sent Byron sprawling, his body crashed against a fractured wall. The impact left him battered and bloodied, his magical defenses strained to their limits.

John, unyielding in his pursuit, closed in on the injured Byron. The super soldier’s mechanical arm whirred with lethal intent as he prepared to deliver the finishing blow. However, at that critical moment, a surge of mystic energy emanated from Bryon.

In a desperate attempt to turn the tide, Byron channeled the last reserves of his magical strength. A protective barrier shimmered into existence, deflecting John’s impending strike. The clash reached a momentary impasse as both adversaries locked eyes, each recognizing the tenacity of the other.

With a final burst of magical energy, Byron conjured a blinding flash of light, disorienting John for a crucial moment. Seizing the opportunity, Byron, battered and wounded, retreated into the shadows, disappearing from the immediate battlefield. John screamed as he grabbed his eyes, “Where did you go?”

As he calmed down, the super soldier, scanned the area, unable to locate his elusive opponent. John looked at his torso, Byron had managed to cut him, he was stronger than he had expected. As he checked his wound, he grumbled, “This is not the end, Byron, do you hear me, we will fight again, and the next time, I will not misjudge your strength!”

Byron, panting, wounded, and bleeding in an alleyway, managed to mask himself. “Goddamn it, I almost died there. Whoever this Iron Golem is, he is far too strong. We must resort to another way to beat him. I fear we need the MCG to enchant him.” He skulked back into the sewers, back to the base.

John, walked back to district one, he needed to patch up his wounds. How could that, moron, be that strong? No wonder the military was losing the civil war.