Chapter 23
Chapter 23
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: For That Handful of Silver (6)
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***
“No matter how I think about it, that place over there, uh, that... the one we just passed by...”
“Market?”
“Yeah! Market! Anyway, wouldn’t it have been better to just loot it decently and get the hell out?”
“Tsk tsk, Bex, that’s not it.”
The scavengers’ group had taken over the market, and now, at the passage leading down to basement level 2, Professor and Bex were riding the elevator cables downward.
“You said it yourself, clear as day—this is a ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ opportunity.”
“Didn’t I...?”
“So if we grab this ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ opportunity and only walk away with 10 or 15 gold, is that a loss? Or not?”
“Hmm... Well, we still get something out of it, so profit?”
“No! There’s this thing called opportunity cost, you idiot!”
“Ow! Hapbun! Don’t push me! I’ll fall!”
I took a running leap from above, planting my foot on Bex’s shoulder, and he started groaning. Professor eyeballed the open elevator door and the distance to it. Looked plenty far.
“Fall? I saw you swinging around on power lines just yesterday. Quit whining and brace yourself. I need a boost to jump across.”
“Ow! The door! It’s still open! Just bounce off and go! I can reach it if I stretch! Grab the edge and climb up!”
“Ssh—listen to your big bro. Grip that cable tight!”
“You only pull that big bro crap when you—Ow!”
Professor kicked off Bex’s shoulder with force and landed stylishly a good distance from the elevator entrance.
“We’ve got a ways to go still!”
“Heh heh, as the Buddha said, the wise point at the moon, but fools stare at the finger. Knew it’d be like this.”
Professor pulled out his machete, lit the lantern attached to it, and shone the light as he cautiously approached the open elevator entrance.
“Hey, Bex.”
“Just a sec! Let me cross first!”
“No, stay there and look over here.”
When Professor aimed the lantern low to the ground, a thin tripwire glinted in the lantern light.
“Booby trap. If we’d just jumped, we’d both be shredded rags right now.”
“!”
“Hmm... Usually these have both tension and release triggers, but this one’s rushed—only a tension trigger. Makes disarming easy.”
Tension trigger explodes when pulled; release trigger when cut. Together they’re a headache, but just one? Simple. Follow the wire to the explosive at the end, disconnect the tripwire from the trigger. The explosive was a tin can bomb, common in the wasteland—metal can packed with gunpowder, glass shards, scrap metal.
‘This one’s high-end for a tin can bomb. Uses grenade safety handle and pin to time the blast, fixing the usual drawback. Probably parts from a dud grenade.’
“Hmm, not a bad haul already? One tin can bomb and some tripwire.”
Hop—
Bex gave a little bounce to cross, then inspected the tripwire spot and whistled in admiration.
“Damn, a straight jump would’ve caught me right at knee height.”
“Of course. They wouldn’t waste good explosives on a half-assed job.”
“You hardly ever see these outside, even with fights breaking out every damn day.”
“’Cause it doesn’t pay off. In Sector 45, crawling with sniper spots, way better to grab a prime one than lay a trap here and wait for enemies. Most don’t even have the scrap for cheap bombs like this.”
But this place was different. Narrow, dark, limited paths down. Perfect terrain for traps like this.
‘And it means some scavenger actually thought it through and set it up.’
“Bex, stay sharp. Real sharp.”
“Been on edge since we came down here.”
“No, I mean the ‘one slip and you’re dead’ kind of sharp.”
Because the guys ahead? They seemed like the real deal.
Professor recalled a brutal urban fight from long ago and switched off the lantern.
***
Drip—drip—
Water seeped from cracks in the ceiling.
‘Groundwater...? No idea if it was like this before we entered or if we triggered it, but this building won’t hold much longer.’
Deeper in, a large room appeared, filled with round tables.
“This place... looks like a cafeteria?”
“Yeah. Check it—forks and knives.”
Professor wiped the stained cutlery on his clothes and pocketed it. Stainless steel was valuable iron, fetched a good price.
“Anyway, visibility’s pretty good up ahead? Even with dark adaptation, you need light to see, right?”
“Means there’s light. Saw something like it once in the Underdome. Pipes sunlight down from the surface.”
“Hapbun, you’ve been to the Underdome?”
“...By accident.”
The two quietly scanned the surroundings. Traces of past enemies everywhere, mutant corpses. And...
“Grrraaa—”
“Uuuuuh—”
“Ugh. This is rough.”
“Yeah. Looks like the locals didn’t live too happily.”
In what looked like a kitchen, they swallowed groans at mutants hooked on meat hooks. Hole marks showed they’d died hooked up, then turned.
“This... kinda looks like what we thought, huh?”
“Probably. Shelter this size would be self-sufficient on food... meat shortage?”
“Or some ritual thing? Plenty of those types outside.”
“Or the rich folks got bored without entertainment.”
Whatever it was, something horrific had happened here.
Professor examined a wriggling mutant on a hook.
‘Hands, feet, jaw blown off. Method for mutants that won’t die easy when you can’t burn the bodies... but why on ones already hooked and harmless? And the wounds—wrists, ankles, jaw—all gunshot.”
One or the other. Either meticulous types who neutralize even immobilized mutants, or typical scavengers who love pumping lead into anything twitching. Either way, they weren’t short on ammo.
“Booby traps, footprints show decent numbers, and plenty of ammo... Bex, what weapons you got?”
“One kukri, three throwing knives, one flashbang, two-shot decorative pistol with five rounds.”
“What, a flintlock? Where’d you get that crap? Effective range even 10 meters?”
“Made it myself. Works in a pinch.”
“Pinch meaning you need to die quick?”
‘No ranged firepower from Bex, then.’
Professor thought of the twenty-four shotgun shells in his vest. Firefights would favor them, so avoid combat and head down—but traces were thickening, distant blasts echoing. Full avoidance looked tough.
‘Then, pick ’em off one by one.’
“Bex, those throwing knives from earlier—reliable?”
“Yeah. Easier for me than guns. For killing people.”
Makes sense. His agility suited ambushes over open fights.
Boom—!
An explosion rocked the hall, ringing their ears unpleasantly. Much closer than before.
“...They’ve caught up.”
“Dodge this one too?”
“...No. Using that much explosive means they’re fighting mutants. Sneak behind, watch them fight for us, then when the path clears—”
Slice—
Professor mimed slitting a throat, and Bex grinned eagerly.
“Kee hee hee! Right up my alley!”
Bex looked thrilled at the free ride.
***
Five minutes later.
Bex and Professor’s happy fantasy shattered in seconds.
“Grrraaa—!!”
“Grraaah! Raaaaah!!!”
“Bex! Bex! Fall back!”
“Shit! What the hell is this! There were barely any of these trash mobs a second ago!”
Bang!
Clack!
“Twelve rounds! Fall back while firing! Won’t kill ’em all anyway!”
“Uwaaaah!!!! Damn it!”
Stealth had been perfect. Bex moved silent as a ghost, and Professor was pretty good at quiet too.
The change hit when they spotted muzzle flashes far ahead.
Crunch—
“!”
“!!!”
Broken glass shards. Lantern off to avoid detection, no time to check every footstep fragment.
Tap-tap—
“[Rear / Retreat]”
“[Front / Enemy]”
Bex’s signal—up ahead, a patrolling mutant heard and headed their way.
Crunch—crunch—
“!”
“!!!”
As it moved, glass crunched underfoot with each step, echoing.
“[Front / Debris / All over]”
“[Trap / Trap / Trap / Trap]”
“[Escape / Retreat / Enemy / Reinforcements]”
“Aw, fuck! Just say it! We’re busted anyway!”
“Hapbun! It’s a trap!”
“I know!”
‘Glass happens, but filling a whole path? Unnatural! Someone set it deliberately to lure mutants!’
Clatter clang! Thud!
As if proving it, clanging empty cans echoed from the gathering mutants.
“Damn! One of the guys ahead’s got a brain!”
Smart bastards. They’d smashed cafeteria glass on the way, hung cans on tripwires at shoulder height. Mutants passing by hit them, noise draws more—a mutant barrier via alarm trap.
‘Alarm faded when enough packed in to stall. Then we made noise—right outside that cluster!’
“Shit! Bex! We gotta break out!”
“Hapbun! Rear’s blocked too!”
“Fuck! Side paths rigged the same! They heard and swarmed!”
Sandwiched. Only option: across the hall, through the door where gunfire and blasts came from.
‘Blasts that big? Huge space. Way easier to handle than mutant-packed hall!’
Professor pulled the trigger on his homemade shotgun, long saved.
Bang!
Clack—
“Twenty-three! Bex! We punch through!”
“Impossible! Over a hundred easy!”
“Not all! That door! To where they’re fighting!”
“What? Think they’ll welcome us?”
“They’ve been fighting! No time to pick sides!”
Bang!
Crude shotgun roared, shoving back a couple mutants. Made for punch over lethality due to scrap. Ammo and power laughable against this horde.
“No time! We die here anyway!”
“Ugh... damn it! That’s why I said loot the mart and bounce! Me!”
“Ah, watch front! Front! Front!”
“Grraaaahhh!!!”
“Uwaaaack!”
.
.
.
.
Bang—
“Eleven!”
And that’s how it came to this.
“Door! Door! We’re through! That many mutants!”
Bang!
Clack—!
“Ten! Less yapping, move!”
“I’m in!”
“Bust it oooopen!!”
Crack!
Shotgun blasts cleared mutants, then kicks shattered the door—rotted from moisture—revealing open space.
KABOOM—!
“Ugh!”
Heat blasted their faces on entry, making them flinch.
“Grraaah!! Gugrraaah!!!”
“Hapbun, snap out!”
“I know, man! Just... crazier bastards than I thought!”
Designed for events or gatherings, the vast high-ceilinged plaza was a warzone. Blast scars everywhere, fires raging like daylight, heaps of exploded, burning mutant corpses.
Bang—!
“There! People there!”
“How many!”
“One!”
One alone puzzled them briefly, but no time to think—they ran. Mutants jammed in the doorframe were spilling out, soon a flood.
Professor eyed the figure while running.
‘Big build, strong. Dual-wielding shotguns? Too well-equipped for a scavenger—clothes, gear top-notch. No human bodies around. Did this one guy cause all this?’
Racing toward him, weighing friend or foe, Professor spotted something familiar.
“Huh.”
“Huh?”
“Bex, know that guy?”
“Kinda. Matches the rumors. You?”
“...Not super well. But he’d recognize if I called.”
“Acquaintance? Ally then!”
“Not necessarily...”
Then, spotting them, the guy swung his barrels their way.
“What’re you doing! Call out! Blind approach in tight sightlines gets you shot!”
“Uh, screw it.”
Professor watched the shotgun turning slowly toward them and yelled.
“Hey! ‘DOOMgay’! The guy who consigned at Marketplace! Direct trade!”
Flinch!
“420k sealings! Antique double-barrel shotgun, right!”
Bang!
The man’s right-hand shotgun flashed, blasting a pursuing mutant behind Professor.
‘Side-by-side barrels, double triggers, wooden stock, even the scratches! Gotta be it—the one in Corduro’s purchase list!’
No mistake. He’d memorized it like a tattoo to avoid scams in a deal.
The gunman blanked out a second, then barked a rough laugh.
“Kh, kuhaha! Thought some scavenger punk came crawling back to die on me again.”
“H-Hapbun, th-that!”
“Fuck! Down!!”
Ting—
KABOOOOOM!!!!
A building-shaking blast wiped the cavern and mutants ahead. The man, backlit by gorgeous smoke, tipped his hat in casual salute.
“Some welcome! Dragging our VIP customer here himself! Hahaha!”
“That fake jaw, the crazy shit...”
“Bex, what do you know about him?”
“Live in the 40s and not know? That’s the ‘Spice Merchant’! ‘Metal Jaw’ Ian!”
“Richtig!”
Humming like on a stroll, the man descended the stairs, grabbed the blast-tumbled Professor’s hand, and pulled him up.
“So, what brings our esteemed customer chasing this lowly peddler Metal Joe all the way off the meetup spot?”
Jaw half-gone maybe—half his teeth gleamed metallic. He flashed a grin over lifted shades, his unmoving metal jaw creating an eerie vibe.
“C-Came for a refund...”
“...You, trash?”
Clack—!
His scowl said drop the thought. That smile? Angelic by comparison.
***