Blood Pack Technology (1)
There's a saying about giving with one hand and taking with the other. Everyone goes through it at least once in life, but you really feel it when you're running an infiltration op in the middle of a storm.
Flash. A white bolt of lightning lit up the dark world for a split second before vanishing. It dragged everyone trying to hide out into the open before nature's fury. Not a welcome guest when you're sneaking into the enemy's lair.
Rumble. Two seconds later, thunder shook the earth. Now that's a welcome guest. For someone slipping in under cover, thunder is like being cradled in the arms of the gods.
"What a hell of a storm," I muttered, and raindrops pelted my lips like mad.
Below the chopper I was riding, a vast conifer forest stretched out. Countless pine trees with sharp peaks swayed in the wind and rain. The scene—bleached by lightning and warped by shadows—didn't look like nature's beauty so much as fanatics raising their arms on stage, cheering wildly.
Crackle! It was the worst flying conditions, but the expedition team in the chopper stared straight ahead without flinching. Only their glowing red eyes showed they were active. The 12.7mm battle rifles on their laps looked mighty reassuring. When those things spat fire, they'd give the thunder outside a run for its money.
We were probably the last army left on this land. No air strikes, artillery, or armored support to count on. The infected hordes charged more ferociously than drugged-up rebels. For infantry like us, who had to push through every hardship with small arms, switching from standard rifles to 12.7mm was inevitable. The firepower shortage of 5.56mm had become a glaring problem.
Some squad members were armed with fully automatic shotguns fitted with new auto-loaders. They could fire specialty rounds without swapping mags, adapting to any combat situation.
The storm-lashed forest looked empty at a glance, but it was anything but.
"Thermal scope."
A scope slapped into my outstretched hand from behind. Peering through it, I spotted red and yellow blobs lurking everywhere in the woods. Back in the day, I'd have smiled, thinking they were birds or squirrels. But now... how many of those heat signatures were native Earth critters? Hell, were there even any left that weren't half-infected?
A red blob dashed unnaturally across treetops. It pounced on a yellow blob crouched between branches. Splat! Yellow fragments sprayed out.
I pulled off the scope, and a raging river came into view. The once-clear surface was murky from the storm clouds, its currents vicious like a beast's fangs. Pure water mirrors beauty cleanly, but murk reflects endless gloom.
No ducks in sight today, usually everywhere. Hope they'd all hunkered down safe somewhere.
The Shelter had firepower leagues beyond the early infection days, but purifying the world with guns and bombs? Impossible. There were way more of them than our bullets.
We crested the mountain, and the city appeared—a ruin packed with shattered buildings. Charred black skeletons slumped over, glass shattered, twisted rebar jutting out like compound fractures.
Pedestrian crossings where people once stared at phones were now ponds big enough for elephants to swim. Missile craters, probably loaded with human bone shards below.
Coffee chains once jammed with customers had lost their roofs. Charred seats and counters visible, ribs heaving in the wind between them.
Crack! Lightning flashed, roads glowing bright. Glass shards from wrecked cars, APCs, and tanks reflected the light.
A perfect wasteland, but the city wasn't empty. Normally crawling with infected hordes. But in this weather, they hid from the rain—in subways, caves, buildings, or burrowing underground depending on the type.
That's why we flew in this hellstorm.
Look at what these idiots did. Power struggles, dodging blame, unchecked greed. This is the endgame of their reckless rush.
Before the infection hit, politicians and UN bigwigs prioritized stopping the war crisis they'd sparked. Then alien ships popped up in Mars orbit—like a lifeline. As Artemis called it, a knee-jerk reaction. Exploration was purely political, rushed. Protocols skipped. Even warnings about what might be at the end of that rope ignored.
The result? We all know.
We could've resisted together, but they fought among themselves instead.
Not aimed at me, but it made me squirm anyway. Sensing it, Artemis went quiet.
Lots of buildings sliced vertically, guts exposed like dissections. Amazing they hadn't collapsed.
"Fucking grim."
Hundreds of eerie eyes glared from a collapsed cross-section. Infected, of course. And not just one or two buildings like that. Did even they feel down in this weather? Eyes burning with hate, but no screams, no movement. Good thing empty air and rain separated us from the horde less than 200 meters away.
Flash! Rumble! Lightning pierced a ruined building, bleaching twisted human shapes white.
Right now, I felt like a soul halted inches from hell's gate. Like a heart jolted back by a defibrillator just before crossing the Styx. What faces would the shades on the other side make watching that lucky bastard return? That's how the infected in that building stared at me.
Grip. My hands tightened on my rifle instinctively. Just seconds of eye contact, but it felt like minutes.
Lots of rooftops scrawled with SOS or HELP.
"That?"
People waving arms on one. My mind snapped alert.
"Survivors!"
No.
Through the scope, their true nature showed. Infected. A variant, specifically. Half-human, half-plant walkers with flowers blooming near their heads. Like Andy Dufresne escaping Shawshank, arms stretched skyward. Arms discolored green, stem-like texture, writhing. Needle-thorn tips at the ends—not just punctures, those were for injecting something.
They writhed happily in the downpour. Whether infected grasped "happy" was debatable.
30 seconds to target.
A massive building loomed ahead. Probably the city's biggest. Sign read: Blood Pack Technology. Usually shortened to Blood Tech.
The chopper hovered over the roof.
Helipad too damaged for landing.
Missile blast scars—over 70% of the top floor sloped badly.
"No problem. We'll fast-rope down."
The view below was brutal. Streets tiny. Rain so thick it vanished midway down, like invisible hands snatching drops.
Now.
She signaled as wind eased. Whirr. Ropes dropped; we slid fast to the roof. Chopper close enough—quick drop.
Thud! Thud! Squad landed one by one. "Raider" series suits—less metal, reinforced plastic for lightness. "Insomniac" heavies were too bulky for infil: overloaded elevators, hit Black Hawk weight limits easy, collapsed floors or crumbling holds on climbs.
Lightweight R&D ongoing.
Thud! Last man down, chopper banked away.
Can't loiter on fuel. Sending to safe zone nearby; call for evac. Minimum 3 minutes even in emergency—keep that in mind.
"Three minutes? That's blazing fast."
She thought it slow, but to an ex-soldier like me, it was like an ultra-express cab.
Click. Ka-chunk. Squad chambered rounds, safeties off. Chopper faded.
"Hup. Ha."
Six pairs of red eyes met mine. Artemis-tuned hardware and software—each worth a hundred men.
"Move out."
Headed to roof corner door. LED lit above—power on.
Squad secured perimeter, checked door.
Access denied. Unauthorized access via irregular route detected. Security protocol activates in 10 seconds.
"Open the door."
I stepped up.
Access granted. Halting security protocol.
Door slid open.
Welcome, Commander Seo Jinsu.
Squad filed in; I donned sealed helmet gas mask. Logo above door: shield of platelets. Blood Tech's mark—saving humanity through blood.
Cultured meat commercialization spawned artificial blood. Legal blood trade birthed specialists. Blood Tech went beyond donor blood, enhancing blood performance itself.
Shelter got promo catalogs.
From astronauts with flags on their chests rocketing to space, cops guarding good citizens, firefighters charging into infernos as others flee, soldiers holding the front for national security—what's most vital for these heroic jobs risking life for society? PPE? Life insurance? No. It's blood!
Blood carries oxygen, energy, immunity. But sadly, our blood is a millions-year-old obsolete model. Was, that is. Today, Blood Pack Technology has developed blood advanced enough to make up for those millions of stagnant years!
Catalog hyped superhuman feats and life-saving in dangers via artificial blood. Stamina boost key: better than risky artificial lungs for cardio endurance. Plus perfect immunity to blood-based diseases and infections.
Progress to make up for millions of years? With this?
She scoffed; specs looked puny to her.
Give me the source tech, and I'll show real progress.
Not just her brag. Blood culturing and functional blood drool-worthy, but immunity research against pandemics hooked us. Post-war, nationalized for alien infection studies. Data gold for Shelter outbreak prep.
CEO office two floors below penthouse. Big shots always crave heights—convenient for us. Short stair descent from helipad, fire door to office.
Dark corridor beyond quiet door.
> Blood traces detected.
> Blood traces confirmed here too.
Squad fanned out to guard posts.
"Blood everywhere, no bodies."
Never a good sign from experience.
CEO office sealed by reinforced glass door wide for six abreast. Claw marks—held against infected assault.
Can you open it?
No external panel—VIP-only, inside lock. Pulled tools from pack.
"Who you asking?"
Facilities breach specialist, go!
Whirr. 30 seconds to pop it. Two squad lowered, breached, weapons up.
Shhh! Empty room and storm greeted them.
Rumble! Flash lit the wrecked CEO office. Rain blasted in; wind scattered papers.
"Close door, guard entrance."
> Order confirmed.
Squad sealed entry, covered it. Office outer wall all glass, shuttered down.
Playing CCTV footage.
Artemis patched office cams to my PDA.
Playback ended.
Grabbed floor remote, activated. Whirr. Glass rose; rain and roar cut off.
CEO PC had biz data, not research. But building blueprints on shelf pinpointed target floors.
"Alright, let's go."
Primary goal: mid-levels dev dept. Loot the company's guts.
Crack! White lightning flashed behind, casting grotesque shadows. Like the monsters resented us hiding from their eyes.