Chapter 95
Chapter 95
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 95
Chapter Title: Chapter 7 Masquerade (11)
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***
Head. A bit dizzy, but manageable. About the same as when I spent two straight nights wide awake in a trench during the war.
Body. Hungry. Come to think of it, I only scarfed down breakfast and skipped lunch before all this shit hit the fan. Both hunger and stamina are running low. Plus, bruises big and small all over my body.
Arms. Fucking hurt. Well, yeah, I dangled from a speeding truck and snagged a crate full of mortar rounds with a crowbar? It's a miracle my joints didn't pop out. Got lucky.
Beyond that, just some minor scrapes. Nothing serious. Overall, no impact on mission performance.
‘That’s weird? They really handled me gently and handed me back? I figured even if I died, you’d throw a tantrum and refuse to let go.’
[Yaaawn. I really wanted to... but honestly, I was on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion way before that. Way more tiring than I thought.]
‘Tired, huh... Well, makes sense.’
Skimming through its memories, I could understand right away. Reviewing every bit of info stored in the subconscious? It’s like taking in all the useless crap our brains filter out automatically—like how a roadside sign was bent, or the white center line on the road was slightly faded—and drowning in that ocean of garbage data to fish out the useful bits. No wonder it was mentally drained.
‘Sorry. I did look at your plan... but I couldn’t hold out. Guess I’m just wired that way.’
‘Can’t be helped. Honestly, I didn’t expect 100% compliance anyway. Just hoped you’d get a read on the situation from it.’
The plan I came up with was just piecing together predictions of what might happen before Old Picture went berserk. In a mess tangled with Old Picture, Raptors, Dome, and countless other variables, even half that plan working out would be insane luck.
‘Plans in the field always have to be fluid, but with the one guy in the trio who actually uses his brain knocked out, I had no choice but to go with the most passive, safest route.’
If I’d been awake, I probably would’ve been a bit more proactive. In a way, Hide pulled off better than I expected.
‘Did good? For real? I thought I’d get chewed out big time once I came back!’
‘Go crash, dude. You did better than I thought, but not praise-worthy good.’
In the end, Hide wasn’t me. Instead of using the situation to steer what came next, it just stopped the immediate threat right in front of us.
‘With Old Picture that far gone, it probably would’ve chased us even if we’d run pretty far. Luring it right into the swarm of incoming Raptors would’ve been juicy.’
My personal perfect-score answer sheet... Drag Old Picture straight into the heart of a Dome-Raptor battlefield.
Old Picture’s physical prowess is just big Type-2 mutant level. The real danger is its psychic waves. Dome troops with self-generating shields tech, plastering exosuits to military vehicles. Raptor troops mostly rocking outdated early-21st-century gear. Who’d suffer more from Old Picture’s influence? Obvious as hell. Even a thin shield cuts the effect way down.
“Still, not bad at all. For Hide’s work.”
“Gaaahhh! I’ll kill you! My truck! My livelihood! I’ll kill you all! Shove dynamite in every hole and bake you in an oven!!!”
...Minor damage aside. The key point is we neutralized Old Picture way earlier than expected.
While ignoring the raging Professor, a small figure that had been hanging back sneaked up behind him.
“Um...”
“Oh, Bex! Must’ve been tough syncing with Hide. Good work.”
“It really is Hapburn! You’re back!”
“Ugh, hey. I get you’re happy, but wipe off some blood first. You look like a psycho serial killer.”
“Kee-hee-hee! It really is Hapburn!”
Blood-splattered head to toe, Bex beamed with that gore-streaked face.
“Anyway, Hide told me your plan, so we got this far. Monster’s caught—now what?”
“Uh, well, my plan... whatever. Good’s good.”
“?”
“Don’t worry about it. Anyway, Old Picture’s down, so we just wait for Inspection Division to show.”
“Inspection Division... hold on. Neutralized? Not dead? With its head blown off like that?”
“Type-3 variants are memory-based creatures, right? Can’t you tell from how it shifted from that shoe-pile form to this upper-body giant? The body shape doesn’t mean much to it. Right now, it’s just shocked from losing nearly 30% of its mass and gone inactive. Give it time, it’ll regenerate and go berserk again.”
If Hide had studied my memories on Old Picture a bit more, it wouldn’t have bothered climbing up high to blow the head off. Neutralizing it isn’t about targeting specific spots—it’s accumulating damage over a wide area. Just dumping those mortar rounds in a choke point and blowing them would’ve done the same. Then Ian’s truck would’ve been fine too?
“That’s why Inspection Division uses electric shockers on huge variants. Stops movement easy, and sustained zaps burn them out area-wide for quick takedowns.”
“Inspection Division... uses shockers?”
“Oh, you wouldn’t know. They mount those weird robot gauntlets on exosuits...”
Clank, clank!
No real tasks, so I started explaining exosuits to Bex when a familiar mechanical whir came from the opposite side of the slope Old Picture had crawled up. Speak of the devil—Inspection Division strike team already here...
‘No. Only one sound, so scout? But even for recon, exposing a single suit when output’s precious makes no sense...’
“”“Proooffessoorrrr!”“”
Clankclankclankclankclank!
Whirr—
Crunch!
A silver mechanical exoskeleton with yellow gauntlets like boxing gloves vaulted powerfully over the hill, speakers amplifying the mechanical roar, landing at the overlook with our group.
“”“Everyone fall back! I’ll handle it, I’ll... uh?”“”
Ezel, who’d amped output and yelled heroically at the massive flesh blob upon cresting the hill, froze at the unexpected scene. Professor sprawled on the ground with that short old guy. The big dude tied up again like last time, gnawing at his belt with his teeth—Ian.
And hanging motionless from the overlook edge, somehow missing a vital contour...
“Oh, Ezel! Right, you’re Inspection. Fast arrival.”
“”“Uh, yeah, long time... no! That monster! That’s Old Picture, right? Where’s its head?!”“”
“Oh, that? Took care of it somehow. Anyway, quick response. Where’s the rest?”
“”“No, I came to save you guys...”“”
Ezel couldn’t sort out what to ask first in the whirlwind. What the hell happened? Why’d it rampage, where’s Enforcement, and why’s this walking apocalypse looking like Durahan? No one else around? No way... these three really did that?
Everyone knows HIV fights well—both Enforcement and Inspection. But confirmed intel pegged it as survival skills, evasion, guerrilla tactics. Now claiming three of them took down a living bioweapon, berserk Old Picture? Like heading out for theater and casually going, ‘Oh, rampaging? That’s a problem,’ then beating it?
Step step step.
Professor approaching his exosuit, brushing off his wrists. Ezel’s mind frantically upped HIV’s threat level.
“Eut-cha. Ezel, comm line open?”
“Huh? Y-yeah, it... is?”
“Good. Perfect timing. Thanks. Real good timing. Open comms a sec. Got stuff to say about the situation.”
“Uh, s-sure.”
Spotless smile, but with an oddly commanding vibe—Ezel forgot rules like [Never let outsiders touch Dome’s high-tech gear], handing the comm to Professor.
Click, hiss—
[S-Sir! Comms connected!]
[What? Hey, Ezel! You hear me? Answer, damn it!]
[No response? That explosion earlier...]
[Delmar, you bastard! Quit yapping and haul ass to the rally point! Ezel! Respond! Say anything—even a groan—just signal you’re alive!]
Comms linked, and Inspection voices exploded chaotically.
“You... didn’t go AWOL, did you?”
“Not AWOL. Sir and I beat the others there, saw you dragging Old Picture, so he said wait. Couldn’t just watch...”
“So. You shut off comms and charged solo? Leaving your CO behind?”
“Heh heh... Worried you might be in danger...”
“Sigh. Good job, idiot. Heartwarming.”
Desperate voices—they were worried sick. Yeah, subordinate charges a building-sized monster, then boom soon after. I’d be pacing, blaming myself: ‘He’s done! Should’ve stopped him!’
[What if it’s just comms linked? Like, explosion wrecked lungs or throat—can’t speak, but barely moved a finger to hit the button...]
[Delmaaaar!!! How long?!]
[Armed 1st Platoon’s rolling out! Three minutes!]
[Three minutes?! Ezel could swim the Styx and have time left, you idiots! Our baby’s dying!]
“...See? Gotta say something quick?”
“Fucked... Never seen Mong Chief that pissed. What do I even say...”
Ezel was exactly that—head hot, ears plugged, brain off, charging in. Sanity returning, now trembling at the backlash.
“Tch. No words? I’ll handle it?”
“I passed out! Please! Say we fought Old Picture epically together, and I blacked out!”
Hat off, pleading desperately—Professor chuckled, leaning into the comm.
[No can do. I’m heading out now—follow behind!]
[No, sir! If you go into that deathtrap where Ezel’s already dead—]
[One minute! Just one—!]
Hiss, hiss—
[A, ah. Mic test. One, two—hear me?]
Speaking into comm, Ezel’s ‘EZ-07’ lit green on the small display—silence blanketed Inspection’s line.
In stunned quiet, blinking green on ‘LM-01’.
[Ezel...? Voice is off, but that annoying vibe...]
[01’s the chief, right. This is... hold on. Voice sounds familiar. LM... Ezel calls you Mong Chief, so Ralph? Ralph Montclair? You’re the boss now?]
[Not Ezel... Don’t know who, but if you took him down or he’s under protection, better keep him safe. You know my name, so you know what I’m like...]
From worried neighborhood uncle to icy Inspection threat—Professor snickered into comm.
[Aigoo, of course. The psycho famous for ‘Mongral’s back’ or ‘ bumper crop of Mongrals’ a few years ago—right, Mr. Ralph?]
[Mr. Ralph? You don’t mean...?]
World’s small. Thought I was alone in the wastes, but nah. Old ties popping up everywhere.
Professor cleared his throat, recalling a half-bald uncle-figure who’d helped tons back when he lived clueless with mom under Dome.
[Ahem. Nice to meet you. I’m BDSM’s head, known as H—Hapburn—of the mostly-known HIV crew. Resident of Sector 47, Park... Pro... fessor.]
[Professor...? Hold up. That Execution badass from six years ago?]
[Heh heh. Long time, Ralph-hyung.]
[Y-y-you... you were dead...!]
‘That’s the Dome story. Cleaner for Execution if a whistleblower recruit fleeing exposes dirt—better he died on duty. Not like I’d go around yelling I’m Professor.’
Chatrooms or spots calling me Professor? Just from my ‘professor’ ID. Real name known only to Execution ties, Ian, Bex, Old Man Woojin.
‘But not anymore. Execution fucked up big, exposed weakness, walked out from Dome’s invincible shield. No reason to hide my name now.’
Five years. Long. So long sharpening revenge blade it wore away.
Revenge moment here—time to reveal who wields the knife.
Professor savored his name, ignoring wide-mouthed, bug-eyed Ezel, replying to flustered Ralph.
[Yeah. Should’ve died that day, but somehow survived. Ralph-hyung, and all you Inspection folks—listen up from here.]
Same silence before, but totally different.
[Ezel’s fine, by the way.]
[Wooooh!!!]
[Figures—that dummy’s so noisy, even Grim Reaper’d drop him!]
[Any injuries?]
Ralph spoke—Professor glanced back; Ezel silently mimed slitting throat.
[Uh... pristine. Too pristine, worrying about getting chewed out back home. Wanted me to say he passed out—]
“Hey!!!”
[—yeah. Haha!]
“Professor, you...!”
“Gifts given, gifts returned? Even steven?”
Whew, refreshing. Repaid about 1/100th.
[S-so. That explosion? Not an exosuit blowing?]
[Oh, that was our BDSM sales truck. Had to, dealing with Old Picture. Bill Dome later—BDSM the civvie corp handled your event.]
[Handled? Killed? Old Picture?]
[Psh, you know it won’t die that easy. Neutralized. Right now—]
Blub, blorp!
[Uh... seven? Eight minutes? Starting to twitch soon.]
[So, really took it down with just that black truck. Damn... always knew you were freakishly talented... Anyway, good work. It’s down, incident’s mostly wrapped—hand it over now—]
[Psh, hyung. Wrapped? It’s just starting. No time. Emergency, emergency.]
[Emergency? Beyond Old Picture?]
[Eh? You don’t know?]
From the vibe, not hiding—genuinely clueless.
‘Oh ho. If Inspection hasn’t caught on, internal terror hasn’t hit yet?’
Thanks to nabbing Old Picture first, we’re a step ahead. Unplanned luck. Waste it, and I’m the idiot.
Professor organized thoughts, sending clear, simple words for the confused Inspections.
[Enforcement betrayed, allied with Raptors. While we yap, remaining Enforcement in Dome launches terror, Raptors swarm to trash the place—that’s the word.]
[Wh-what?!]
“What?!?!”
Surround-sound shock from comm and ear—Professor replied cheerfully.
[Sorry to you who raced here, but head back now. I cleaned up here—just block the burglars.]
***
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