Live Terror Broadcast – Starfish Onslaught and Sudden Reversal
The man's voice started in a flat tone. It had a salaryman vibe that didn't match the heavy content at all. That made it... feel even creepier.
[You are our prisoners. If you choose to run, lightning will strike you down.]
"Hm, looks like it's starting."
"About time. I was getting bored anyway."
The two of them calmly listened to the broadcast while sipping water. I tried to act nonchalant, but I was worried. If I died, my family would be devastated.
That gloomy thought triggered my 21st-century human instinct to pull out my phone. Checking the community sites I occasionally browsed, the outside world was in chaos.
"...Live streaming. Classic, but a solid strategy," Conel said admiringly as I followed a link from the community post.
On Xtube, a red LIVE window was broadcasting. The title was "Listen up, South Korean government." Viewers were at around 3,000 and climbing steadily.
The broadcast was still a black screen. Viewers jumped to 10,000 right when the screen lit up.
Half the background was dominated by the North Korean flag, the Inmin'gongwi. Viewers either raged like they'd seen something forbidden or just didn't recognize it.
Moments later, a man stepped into frame. Faded, rough khaki military uniform. Red stripes and four stars on the epaulets. His left chest was weighed down with medals. His face was scarred all over, like he'd spent a lifetime on the battlefield.
The chat was a dizzying mess of confusion. The man spoke expressionlessly. It was the exact same voice from the school broadcast.
Undeterred by the backlash, the man continued.
"We have come here to hold them accountable. South Korea should be grateful we aren't exacting a hundredfold revenge."
The screen switched, and the chat went silent.
Terror-stricken college students. Young men and women wore vest-like devices packed with magazine-like pouches—suicide bomb vests used by terrorist bombers.
"For every hour our demands are delayed, we will execute one bud of South Korea's future."
Conel listened beside me and said, "I see."
"$10 billion? ...Can Korea even pay that?"
"Not unrealistic."
"Really?" That's nearly 15 trillion won.
I nodded as Conel explained. "Starting with an unrealistic demand makes real negotiation hard. So they start high, then concede step by step to something feasible."
"First time at a terror scene, B2? You're sharp on other stuff but clueless here. My guess? It'll settle at a billion."
"Makes sense not to fixate on the money. Their real goal's elsewhere."
Conel eyed me like of course you know. Her apple scent wafted from how close she sat. I racked my brain and answered.
"...The ones they want released matter more."
"Right? Or just standard terrorist talk like al-Qaeda or ISIS."
"Exactly, B2 knew. Not 'people'—person."
Conel answered Shai's retort. Somehow I'd picked one out of 24.
"Person? Who? Checked the list—Koreans all Kims, hard to tell."
Subtle racism from fellow East Asian Shai. Conel, missing the nuance, explained.
"Kim Min-hee. A Kim, like Shai said. B2 would know the name."
"Kim Min-hee? Oh, right."
...Who? Kim Min-hee... Repeating it mentally gave me chills. Looking at Conel, she nailed it.
"The dictator's daughter, Kim Min-hee. Some still dream of reviving that ghost regime."
* * *
The broadcast didn't end after the demands. The man vanished from in front of the flag, leaving the rowdy chat.
From the broadcast, I felt it. The real terror was just beginning.
But I saw hope. "They're gonna fail... right?"
In 2020, I'd be shaking. But considering their outdated gear?
Hope. Hope of going home.
The chat shifted. I split the screen and projected the government's live feed on the wall. Blue sky appeared.
Shai muttered, "This... Seoul sky?"
At the horizon, a cityscape like Seoul flickered.
I glanced at them and brought up the game. "Shai, this is it. Game over."
"Game over? Oh! Korea's that, right?"
We were calm from familiarity, but viewers weren't.
The feed panned up from Seoul airspace. Airplane interior, glossy black shapes swaying. Chasefield X private room folks would geek out. Gear that made Korea the world's safest.
Shai pointed excitedly. "This is Korea's 'Starfish', right? The sea creature?"
"No, the Starfish here is an old Korean legend..."
"Same diff?"
"..."
As I prepped 30 counterarguments, familiar scenery appeared: Korea University, buildings amid green trees.
Thud! Thud! Thud! Vibrations shook the ground outside. The building trembled.
I felt no worry or fear. This wasn't the terrorists.
Right then, a clank! echoed, and the feed dove earthward like skydiving.
Black shapes reached the buildings, then descended into Korea University.
Thud! Thud! Thud! That was the source—Starfish units landing, sound delayed by broadcast lag.
"Block 'em! Block!"
Rat-tat-tat! Panicked terrorists fired wildly.
But the units deflected bullets, advancing steadily. Why we called it game over: In private rooms, if a side wasn't fully crushed, this military gear appeared to end it.
Starfish. Republic of Korea Special Robot Squadron. Reaches anywhere in Korea in max 20 minutes to annihilate targets—ultimate counter-terror force.
Ping! Ping! Clank! After tanking shots, they accelerated like sprinters, tackling retreating terrorists.
Thud!
"Argh! Let go!"
"Cowardly bastards!"
Guns useless against robots. Starfish snatched weapons like trained soldiers, snapped them like twigs, and subdued thrashing terrorists.
Chat exploded in cheers. I cheered inwardly at going home.
Terrorists hadn't quit. "Blow 'em! Kill these iron shells!"
A desperate scream. Massive explosion, flames erupting.
BOOM! Vehicles blocking the university gate—packed with IEDs, detonated.
Flames engulfed people and robots instantly.
"Agh... this... guk."
Despair on a terrorist's charred face. Contrary to myths of fire weakness, Starfish emerged unscathed.
"M-monsters..."
Overwhelming. No winning with 2020s relics.
I pondered ditching Conel's crew safely home. Glanced at their faces.
...Their expressions were off.
"Uh... Conel? Why that face? Looks like it'll end quick."
"Yes. It should end. No matter how I think, that's the result."
Conel nodded but glared at the robots dominating amid cheers.
Then I recalled her cafe words foolishly late. "If convinced of a terror killing at least a thousand?"
Her tone assuming mass death. If true, this was just the start...?
Bzzz! A horrific whine pierced my inner ear. Conel and Shai clutched theirs too.
A thick turquoise pulse swept over us.
"What the—?"
"EMP? But... devices are fine."
Shai and Conel assessed. Distracted by noise, I spotted it first and despaired.
"Oh no..."
The heroic feed spun like a ragdoll, smashing groundward. Terrorists on the ground creaked upright.
As if answering, a terrorist approached the feed and shoved his gun like an execution.
Bang! Screen warped, went black.
Conel spoke first. "Not the time. Now..."
Kaboom! Explosion mid-rise; she dove. Wall nearby crumbled, dust billowing.
"D-drone strike?"
"Worse."
Dust settled, revealing something embedded in the wall.
"Albatross? Why military drone here..."
"EMP'd probably. Surveillance gear in sky neutralized."
"My phone's fine?"
"Military hardened ones fail, civvie gear safe... Targeted jamming? No... Encrypted freq only?"
Conel, usually explanatory, went quiet. They checked weapons. I followed suit, inspecting pistol mag and chamber.
Conel popped MP5 mag, checked rounds. "Situation's complicated."
Clack!
"Planned to slip through chaos to Memorial Hall nearby, grab B2's 'gift'."
"Memorial Hall? Right there... Drone exploding helps movement, no?"
"Yes. It's better now."
Conel looked out window instead of explaining.
"Problem is, we're not the only ones better off."
Screeech! Ominous sound. Outside, three black vehicles rolled up to Liberal Arts Building.
Conel's calm words chilled me. "The terrorists trapped in buildings are fine too."