Korea University (7): Robots on the Gallows
Before the North Korean flag that had vanished fifteen years ago, the robots—once South Korea's pride—hung like criminals mounted on the gallows.
The chat was a total shitstorm of chaos.
The broadcast people were watching didn't show the mystery EMP blast. Naturally, the robots looked like they'd just glitched out, so the reactions made sense.
Terrorists might execute college kids any second in this high-stakes crisis. And yet Conel was cool as ice.
"On the contrary, total failure means it's fine."
"Y... yeah."
"Considering the damage, they should've tried negotiating first... They put way too much faith in their weapons."
States rarely negotiate with terrorists. Once you give in once, it snowballs—victims pile up, and innocents pay the price.
"...First terror site for me, but do they ever re-enter after failing?"
"Lost their main gear, so probably not easy. But they'll try again. And..."
Conel let out a small sigh, utterly convinced.
"They'll fail. With a lot of people dying in the process."
I shut off my still-buzzing phone and pocketed it. Situation was absolute worst-case, and it could get uglier. I didn't get Conel's certainty, but in three years of gaming with her, she never bullshitted.
First, survive.
Thinking that, I pulled my Glock 22—right on cue, Shai showed up.
While we prepped, she'd snuck around scouting terrorists trying to enter the Liberal Arts Building.
"Eleven of 'em. HK-416 assault rifles, max level 3 body armor, full helmets included. Sidearms look like Glocks or Berettas."
"What?"
The gear on these terrorists made the earlier ones look like jokes. Ours? Captured Glock 22 pistol and MP5 SMG. No way that firepower pierced level 3 vests. No joke—even in a game, unless you were farming noobs, you'd get wrecked.
Conel eyed me thoughtfully, then spoke.
"Seal the west stairs first. Shai holds there. B2, you're backup. I'll block the opposite corridor with the MP5."
Even with vests, weak spots exist. This plan could buy time.
But was that enough?
"It's fine. Our goal isn't victory—it's delaying. Drones are down, surveillance crippled for now, but it'll recover."
"Hmm..."
"They don't wanna linger either. Force 'em back, then execute the next plan."
Conel's logic checked out. Bridging the gap with tactics. Oh, and speaking of defense—one solid option came to mind. Liberal Arts Building was my old department's haunt. The fire curtains here could be a game-changer.
I grabbed Conel's arm as she headed for the stairs.
Snap!
"Hold up."
She startled, then sighed.
"I know what you're thinking, but it's reckless."
"Huh? No, but."
No explanation given, and bam—opposition.
Dropping the fire curtain was noisy, sure, but reckless?
"Attacking makes sense. Current plan can't hold the third floor—civilians hiding up there get screwed if terrorists slip by."
"Civilians? Oh, right... yeah?"
"But... yeah, you'd wanna save as many as possible."
I never said attack.
Time to explain the fire curtain properly.
"No, I—"
"I'm all for it. Kinda iffy letting people die, and we three can handle it, right?"
"True... Given the time elapsed, they got no real intel on us. With B2's skills, we got a shot."
"That's—"
"B2, you said it in the private room. You'd pick the best outcome where everyone's happy."
"..."
They decided in seconds, tweaking the plan.
Refuse here, and I'm the asshole letting civilians die?
"Ah..."
"B2, and... could you let go of my arm?"
"Sorry."
I released her. Conel's face flushed oddly as she said,
"Your initiative is impossible to rein in. Just like in the game."
Her expression—mildly pissed? Couldn't ruin the mood, so I forced some cheer.
"Y-yeah, let's stick to the plan then."
"No time—move to positions, fast."
That cooled her off quick; she smiled.
It looked dumb at first glance, but attacking was actually viable. If they were willing to sacrifice, defense was the reckless play. When cornered, sow chaos with offense—keep 'em from focusing fire.
...Or so I figured.
Didn't wanna pick it, though.
I sighed, hugging the lecture hall wall alone.
Three years later, Korea University felt unchanged. Same gross shiny beige tiles, faint musty smell, warm sunlight.
Thud!
Difference? Folks who shouldn't be here, stomping military boots.
"Really someone here? Heard women attacked? What the hell's that mean..."
"Move it! Slackin' till sunset? Shape up!"
"Shut it. Ain't all for the dough?"
"What?"
Gruff voices. Botched North Korean dialect mixed with Russian.
"Me half Russkiy. Wouldn'ta sailed from Dalian without the cash."
"You Yankee vulture! People's Democratic Republic of..."
Bickering. I cracked the door.
Metal structures by the pillars—for fire curtains. Reflections showed the terrorists: eleven heavily armed goons shambling like workers.
If not for rifles and helmets, anyway.
I whispered,
"Almost all here."
"Copy."
Shai's voice from the opposite hall. Tensing up, steadying breath—then her arm shot out.
"What?"
No answer to my whisper. Instead, middle finger up.
"Ha."
This woman's got balls.
Plan was scout, ambush, GTFO. That signal? Game call for cover on a rush. No stop signal screwed us again.
Too late to yell—enemies closing.
Terrorists kept arguing, then a shout.
"Comrades, shut it! Focus on search! Commander said bring heads!"
Superior? Voice silenced the squabble.
Like a cue.
Rat-tat-tat!
"What the—!"
"Enemy! Enemy!"
To them, bullets rained from afar. Conel spraying MP5 from opposite stairs.
Too far to pierce plates, sadly. But it forced cover.
Plan: pick 'em off one by one post-cover.
I gritted teeth, flung door open for Shai's cover.
Creak!
"Sooka..."
Sudden me—guy panics, spits Russian curse, raises gun.
I closed on him mid-wall hug, squeezed trigger.
Bang!
Bang!
"Gaaah..."
Level 3 vests can't fully tank close pistol impacts. Grabbed the gut-shot guy, shoved—cleared outside lane easy.
"Wh-who..."
Vest guy as shield blanks left flank. Swung pistol at shocked face on right.
Bang!
Aimed for jaw. Helmets or not, chin shot drops 'em.
Worked... kinda.
"Urk!"
Shit—trusting rumors was dumb. Head snapped back, but he endured, gun coming up...
Screech!
Slipped on slick tiles, ass-planted clean. Trigger pull sent burst ceiling-ward.
Rat-tat-tat!
"Enemy here too!"
"Ah..."
Too risky, yeah.
They spotted me instant. Dove for original room—then disaster.
Prior drone blast cracked corridor wall. Recent shots spiderwebbed ceiling—domino collapse.
"Gah! Attack!"
"Casualties!"
Bigger than expected. Lights, concrete chunks, tiles rained with dust, slamming hard.
Behind start point, I dodged direct hit. Dust blinded everything.
Snatched gun from my shield's holster meantime.
"Shoot! Blast 'im!"
Spotters yelled. Thanks for the heads-up—I raised shield.
...Sorry, bud. Cowered behind vested corpse.
Thud-thud-thud!
Plates held vs. 5.56. Body jerked with hits—pain-glazed eyes rolled white.
Silent prayer, then spotted something on him.
"Shai!"
Called wherever she was.
Thud-thud!
Footsteps—she charged my way.
"You crazy bastard!"
"Huh?"
"Said ambush and bounce."
First aggressor now pissed? No time to argue—showed looted item.
"Recognize?"
"Wocao! Fine, do it quick!"
Shai's Chinese curse hit. Yanked pin on flashbang.
Tossed into dust.
Boom!
Blinding light, brutal shockwave.
Then...
"Gaaaah!"
"Eeeek..."
Ears wrecked, balance gone.
We plastered walls at bang. Dodge stray shots.
Eyes met—dashed forward in sync.
Still outnumbered. Rifle shouldered, leaped into haze.
Mid-run, spotted huddled, writhing guy.
No shot—kneed instead.
Thump!
"Keurk!"
Bowled him aside, legs hit floor. Muzzle forward, silhouettes—fired.
Bang-bang!
"Kkh! F-friendly fire, don't shoot!"
Helmet tunnel vision—no friend/foe ID. We had it easy.
"B2, down!"
Ducked instinct—dagger flew, sank in shoulder of guy aiming at me.
Screech!
Slick tiles slid me low. Perfect leg-shot angle.
Bang!
Bang!
"Hoo..."
No standees post-shoot. Dust settled—bleeding bodies, groaners.
Conel sprinted from afar.
Shai beside me, huge sigh.
"You maniac! How?!"
"Uh... just did."
Beats me. How'd this... work?