Chapter 170
Chapter 170
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 170
Chapter Title: Lead and Silver Coins
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Chapter 10 Lead and Silver Coins (24)
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“But why are we rushing like this? We’ve already taken down the Inspectorate. Do we really need to sneak through back alleys like we’re fugitives?”
“Exactly because we haven’t. The ones we caught were just tower guards—flashy posers at best. The real agents are probably sprinting like their heels are on fire right now.”
Things had gone smoothly at the tower partly because the group’s individual skills were exceptional, but mostly—about seventy percent—due to perfect timing. The Inspectorate’s competent agents had been out handling the string of recent disasters that had befallen them.
“There were beds and personal belongings inside, right? Looks like they switched to the radio tower as their new HQ after the eastern branch got hit. They must’ve left some defensive forces behind, given the situation.”
“Identity checks might’ve failed, but the turrets were still active. The moment an intruder shows hostility, they unleash over 130 rounds of 7.62mm per minute. Each bullet’s about 9.5 grams, so that’s over 1.2kg of lead slamming in per second. With hundreds of those insane turrets, they probably didn’t sweat base defense much. Not that they knew a lighter could neutralize them.”
No matter how rotten they were, these guys were one of the pillars of power in Zone 38’s Dome. We’d only killed the enemies charging at us, not hunted down every last soul in the tower, so some must’ve slipped away. It wouldn’t take long for word to spread about who caused the mess.
Tadak!
‘Alley, footsteps!’
Footsteps echoed from ahead. Tense breathing and the glint of metal off a weapon shone plainly down the alley—no attempt to hide.
“D-Die!”
Pfuuk!
Thirteen? Fourteen? The boy clutching a cloth-wrapped blade didn’t even get a swing in before Ian’s kick sent him flying. Bex grimaced, but no one condemned him. After all, the kid had shouted “Die” himself.
“...That was just a kid? Don’t street rats usually know who to pick a fight with?”
“Looks like there’s a bounty on us.”
“Tch. No wonder that Inspectorate guy from last night wouldn’t shut up about how loaded they were.”
As the Inspectorate spokesman had bragged the night before, their real power wasn’t the radio tower they’d occupied or their agents—it was money. Vast wealth from merchants intertwined with authority. The moment they caught wind of the raid, they’d probably dumped a fortune into bounties.
‘And if those rich bastards are serious about the bounty...’
Pew—whiiing
Pfuuk!
“Sniper!”
“2 o’clock, house rooftop or third-floor railing!”
“Damn it, 2 o’clock! Confirmed!”
A bullet whistled through the air, chipping fragments from the wall behind them.
The group instantly echoed the direction and took cover in a blind spot.
Professor peeked out to gauge the outside, then extended a hand beyond the alley.
Kakagagang! Ppakang! Ppakang!
“...Not bad.”
Bullets poured the instant his left hand appeared. Good accuracy, and they stopped firing right away to reposition—not shabby at all. No damage, so maybe they thought it was a decoy model or something.
‘Tch. If they’d kept shooting, I could’ve pinned the exact spot.’
He had a rough idea, but snipers who shoot-and-scoot made that intel pretty useless unless you could charge them immediately.
“...One on the rooftop of the awning-covered building one over, first floor. Three more on other rooftops, unknown positions. They know what they’re doing.”
“Now that you mention it, kids around here love sniping since a shield breach means instant rad kill. We’ve got some real pros on us.”
Ezel raised his rifle with a tense expression. He knew it was pointless against elevated snipers, biting his lip in frustration.
“Bullet sponges... Inspectorate couldn’t be here this soon... Partners?”
“Partners?”
“Yeah. Caravans. Scavengers. You’ve cleared out traders for their goods before. Carry guns and sell stuff? Caravan. Kill and loot? Scavenger. Hunt bounties? Bounty hunter.”
He recalled the other groups at last night’s caravan camp. Trapped here by the explosive mutant surge outside, unable to move. Itching to sell their wares but stuck in the city, watching profits rot.
Pfuuk! Pfuuk!
Pababak!
“Ugh, fuck!”
As he timed an exit, muffled suppressor shots rang out, fragments spraying the rear wall and making Ian stumble.
“Hit?!”
“...Grazed. Ricochet shooter! Left, second floor security bars!”
While Ian jammed a hemostatic into his thigh, Bex bolted out and hurled himself into the opposite building’s entrance.
Tutatatatata!
Pew whiiing—pew whiiing—
Bullets kicked up dirt tracking Bex’s path, as if they’d been waiting.
“...These motherfucking punks think they can toy with us!”
Ian, his uniform pants soaked in blood and white powder, lobbed a grenade through the entrance. The explosion triggered a booby trap, and through the smoke, Bex’s shadow darted inside.
Seconds later, a bloodied hand dangled limply from the sniper’s security bars. Got him.
Ian growled, pulling a grenade launcher from his pack.
“...These guys play dirtier than our local trash. Not just trigger-pullers. Rush and we’re done.”
“Hesitate and we’re really done. Someone saw our ride heading to Admin this morning. They know our route—they’ll just keep piling on if we give ’em time. Lucky it’s fresh bounty, or there’d be more.”
“Then... breakthrough it is.”
Chak-chak!
Tong—
The launcher round struck a shabby building wall.
Kwaaaang!
Hudududuk!
Suppressive fire poured precisely toward their alley amid spreading smoke and raining debris.
These bastards were annoyingly good at long-range harassment.
Pabababak! Chaenggrang! Chaenggrang!
“Argh! Those fucking sniper shits!”
“Heh heh heh. Hey, Cherry. Still scared of killing? Huh?”
“Bullshit! When I catch those bastards, I’ll—argh!—rip their heads off and stick ’em on my ride’s emblem!”
Ezel, bleeding from glass shards from ricochet.
Suddenly inspired, he rummaged through a looted uniform pocket, face lighting up.
“Smoke grenades! Damn, the old man I killed’s saving my ass!”
“No self-respecting sniper hood carries no smokes. Toss ahead, then book it out the alley when it blooms!”
Ping—! Tsssiiiik!
Ezel’s smoke grenade landed perfectly one block ahead. The instant launcher smoke and grenade fog obscured everything top to bottom, the group surged forward without a word.
“Run like hell to Admin!”
“Front, hostiles! Five!”
“Kicks only! No time for those!”
“Fuck! We used up today’s luck at the radio tower!”
Taktaktaktak!
No matter how elite, a lead round to the skull kills you. Even Professor’s crew had no counter to dug-in snipers.
Fifteen minutes later.
Ian’s explosives had pulverized back-alley buildings for cover smoke, acrobatics galore to breach a few blocks, and they finally reached Admin.
“Sanctuary—! Euheuk!”
“Fuck, we lived! Shit! Thought I’d shit myself!”
“What the hell happened...”
Pibibing—!
“Eek!”
Glass shards everywhere, head split from debris meant for smokescreen—by the time they staggered into Admin, bodies and spirits were rags, barely movable.
Seeing Admin spokesman Karel, barefoot and sprinting out, flinch at a deflected round off the shield, hit them with “We’re safe for real.”
“Uwaaaang! Karel! Thought we were goners...”
“Cigs, please, cigs...”
“Water for me. Aaaah, water...”
“Kuaaaa....”
Sod alliance dignity or shame, Professor’s crew flopped at Admin’s entrance.
Karel Belmont directed nearby staff, then approached.
“I heard the newsboys shouting breaking alerts... What the hell did you do to make the Inspectorate slap a 15 million shilling bounty on you?”
“You work with us—how don’t you know? We looted the radio tower.”
“...Didn’t you leave this morning?”
Karel checked the clock at the entrance. 11 a.m. Less than five hours since departure.
“No way... You did the op we talked about this morning as a day trip?”
“It was do-or-die if it dragged... Whatever! Later! Water before I die, water!”
“Booze, cigs!!!”
“Euheuk, send me home...”
Covered in blood, refusing to rise—like kids throwing tantrums for ice cream. Incredibly capable ones.
Urrr!
Hearing inside, Zone 47’s medics from the lab rushed out, gear dangling.
“The rumored Zone 47 fusion human’s hurt!”
“Heard Evelyn’s message from 47—how thrilled was I! Professor himself!”
“Blood! Bleeding! Grab that—not hemostatic, sample vials!”
After,
Professor gnawed a saline bag.
Ian slurped stolen alcohol swabs.
Chaos ended with cigs for Ian, water for Professor, sedative for Ezel—they finally got treated.
“Master code linked! Remote system control nominal!”
“Oh. You can do that?”
The researcher pounding keys piano-style grinned sheepishly at Professor’s question.
“We’re allies in name, but we’ve done jack... Least we can do.”
The master code Professor’s team inserted in the tower’s central control. Admin remotely hooked in, fully disabling the untimed wide-area jammer.
“Security secured too. Wiped the green zone data, loaded Admin personnel and BDSM data. Inspectorate’s locked out now.”
Gulp—gulp—
“Kuaa—! Feels alive. Good they’re screwed, but securing the tower doesn’t profit us much, right?”
Ian popped his second booze bottle. Researchers gawked at him like monkeys eyeing a rival.
“Nonsense. Just as Zone 47’s Dome sits there for Mayer Zeus, we’re in 38 for the radio tower.”
Ian perked at “Zeus.”
“Huh... So it shoots some badass beam too?”
“Heh heh heh. Better. Radio tower’s the pinnacle of old-world info warfare. Brute-force jamming’s crude, right?”
The researcher glanced at Karel, who nodded. He wheeled over a drone, screen alive for the group.
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- Namsae-ya: Yo, messages going through? Clear?
- Bedulgyee: Oh, visible now. Control lifted?
- Namsae-ya: Taxes, comms blackout—fight their own fights, why dump on us.
- Bedulgyee: Watch it. Seen messaging? Reported, done. Food stocked?
- Namsae-ya: Week’s worth. Scary. They say leaving’s death.
.
.
.
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“...Just a chatroom? Why show this?”
“Heh heh heh... Because it’s not public. Private messages, targeted.”
Professor dissected the researcher’s words. Not a chatroom—personal messages. Only parties see them. Yet here, proudly displayed as tower prowess.
“...You’re intercepting this?”
“Yes! Zones 41 to 35, all tower-range comms—intercepted! Argh!”
Snatched the drone, yanked to his face. Real-time exchange. Sensitive Dome policy gripes—no hesitation. Real GG private message interception.
“This is... bigger than Zeus?”
Interception. Jammer off. Intel flow. Spies. General’s allies. Truth.
Possibilities flooded his mind like a galaxy.
“...Lend me this. Now.”
“N-Not hard, but after treatment...”
“Now!”
No time to hesitate.
Professor’s head swirled with plotting Zone 47 coords into that interceptor.
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