Horizon Ho (2)

Jack, the sixth member of the black market gang—masked and clutching an assault rifle—was combing through the forest of countless containers in search of their target. According to orders, they were after a special container: a deep red one. Inside it, a black box—that was the prize. Finding it would net him enough money to live like a king for life. Of course, as a lowly grunt, he wasn't privy to more details than that.

"Tch. Red containers? There ain't just one or two of 'em. Hell, I can see dozens right in front of me."

This ridiculously massive ship was loaded with thousands—maybe more—containers at a glance. Hundreds of them had to be red among that horde. Jack hated the organization's sloppy methods.

"The locks are unusually heavy-duty, so focus on those. Don't just chase every red one you see."

Alex, number seven, peered through binoculars at the containers overhead while barking the order.

"Gimme the binoculars then, asshole. Hogging 'em all for yourself."

"Fuck off, retard. Use your scope."

After bickering like that, their search turned up nothing. Jack glanced at the steel beam: a faded white-painted letter B.

He grabbed the radio.

"Uh, uh. This is Jack and Alex. No target in row B. Moving to search elsewhere."

Static—<Row D? That's where we are. Uh, this is James.>

"No, not D—B! Row B!"

<What?>

"B! Row B! Can't you hear me?"

<Waves are too loud. Speak clearly.>

"Ah, fuck—"

<Fuck off, shut up! Shift channels one by one, you idiots!>

The boss's booming voice exploded from the radio. It was so loud Jack nearly dropped it.

"Whoa! Sir? If we find the target..."

<Switch back to the original channel and report, morons!>

"...Yes, sir. Got it."

Jack pressed the arrow button until the channel changed, then finally pocketed the radio.

"Ah... fuck."

"You suck at enunciating, dumbass."

Alex's mocking jab. Jack barely restrained the urge to smash his fist into that sneering face.

Just as they moved to another row—

—Thud!

"?"

"What? What was that?"

A heavy sound from behind. Like striking something solid. Teams 3 and 4 were in row D, so this wasn't them.

"......"

Jack and Alex raised their rifles and crept toward it slowly.

—Step, step.

"...Nobody here? But that was a big noise."

"Maybe a container door swinging in the wind? Check ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it out."

They scanned around—no open containers. Just fierce sea wind whistling through the gaps.

"Nah, nothing like that. Probably heard wrong—"

Jack turned—and there was Alex's body right in front of him. It had been facing him a second ago, but now... he saw the back of Alex's head.

"Huh?"

The world flipped. Ears ringing, head splitting. He dropped his gun without realizing. Lost balance, tumbling. A strong grip yanked him. Then a sharp, icy bite at his throat.

That was the last sensation Jack ever felt.

I pulled out the knife and wiped the blood clean.

Two corpses sprawled before me.

My trait, [Stealthy Steps]. Thanks to it, I ambushed them undetected. I'd had it since possessing this body, and it'd saved my ass plenty. At first, I dismissed it as some lame perk.

I finished cleaning the dagger's blood and turned to Nelson.

"The other two are in row D. I'll head up top and move along the beams—you head to D carefully, senior."

Nelson, gripping his futuristic pistol glowing green, eyed me warily.

"...Didn't know you were this strong. Snapping necks like that in a blink? Even I haven't pulled that off."

"Not hard."

Exactly. Here's what went down: I eavesdropped on their radio with ours while watching from the beams. Lucky the frequencies matched. Had Nelson make noise, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠waited for the two to split toward it, then dropped. The rest? As you saw. Killing felt natural after a rough year.

"How many shots left in that pistol?"

"Two more."

Anti-superhuman rounds wrecked normals even harder.

"Alright. Let's move. No time."

Snagged their radios from the bodies and hurried off. Overheard their lower and upper teams used different channels—no direct comms. Kill the last two, hit the bridge for rescue signal. Flare and wait.

One worry: time until rescue, and that energy weapon.

'The guy with it headed below.'

Every energy weapon I'd seen packed a punch—sometimes rivaling top superhumans. Bridge might be tough, but one hit could vaporize it. Plus their cyborg boss brute. Superhuman for sure, but powers unknown.

Simple divide: superpowers make a Villain; none, just criminal. I'd scrapped plenty this year, including Villains—but weak ones. Never a real powerhouse.

Kept moving. Beams were tricky.

Soon, I snuck along the girders, peering down. Two guys patrolling the area. One probably James from the radio.

'Nelson's on the right. Good.'

Crouched low, leaped silently to the next container despite the rifle on my back. [Stealthy Steps] made it possible.

Faint voices below.

"Nothing here either. Where the hell'd they hide it?"

"Row B was empty too. How many rows on this thing?"

"If it's up to Z, we'd have to check every—"

'Now.'

Signaled Nelson and dropped. Drew dagger midair. Gravity pulled me down in a flash—my shadow overlapped one's shoulder.

—Squelch!

Body weight drove the blade into his neck, twisted. Crunch. He slumped.

"Wha—"

Green flash erupted from behind the other container.

—Whirr!

Ultrasonic pulse from the special pistol staggered him.

"Guh, guaaah...!"

His rifle clattered. I charged, yanked his head into my knee, then stabbed his throat.

Short scream. Silence.

Pulled the dagger free, laid the limp body down. Deck clear of enemies.

Caught my breath, grabbed his radio. Just static. They didn't know yet.

"Done."

"...Fucking psycho. You're a real monster."

I chuckled dryly at Nelson.

'With how many stronger out there? They really haven't seen shit.'

Glanced toward the bow. Bridge direction. Below: energy guy and cyborg still prowling. But deck empty.

"Let's go. Rescue signal first."

We dashed through containers to the forward superstructure. Footsteps echoed on metal walkways.

Approaching the bridge, I glimpsed inside through the windows.

"......"

"What, what's up? Why'd you—gasp!"

Nelson behind me sucked in a breath.

The bridge was a slaughterhouse. Maybe twenty crew, blood-soaked and broken. Limbs severed as baseline; guts and bone shards everywhere. Horrific.

So that's where the crew went. Captain probably ordered them here. They obeyed blindly—and died.

—Creak.

Door ajar. Thick ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠blood reek stabbed my nose.

"Fucking insane..."

Rescue first. Headed to the console.

"...Damn."

Smashed to hell. Wheel yanked out broken; screens shot to bits.

"...How do we call for help now?"

Nelson's right. We're security, not crew. Knew stern and bow layout, nothing else—no protocols. No manuals on walls. Captain must've been in on it.

"......"

Stuck. Thought bridge meant safety. Nope. Just confirmed crew massacre—worse.

"...Let's get out."

"Y-yeah. Place is fucked."

Escaped the stench, leaned on wall. Bloody footprints trailed my shoes. Tension eased; deep sigh escaped.

"Hoo..."

Now what? No signal, ship full of hostiles. Crew dead. Pistol down to one shot. Underground foes likely way tougher.

"...Rain now too."

Drops fell from the sky. Drizzle now, but instinct screamed downpour soon. Gloomy day turned pitch-dark for morning.

"......"

Standing still, dark thoughts crept in.

'Die here? This pathetically?'

This world: blood daily, fights endless, nights of gunfire and screams. Dodged death countless times. Always survived. Lived hard-won life—end like this? On a bad ship ride? No.

Never.

Decision made. Looked up at Nelson. Grim face, silent.

"Senior."

"Y-yeah? What?"

"Only way's killing them all. So we hit underground now."

"......"

"Waiting? They'll notice no radio from deck team, spot us. Or finish and come up."

Cracked neck—satisfying pops.

"Then we're cornered topside. No chance. They've got superhumans, energy weapons."

"But they don't know us yet. Underground favors us—tight, sealed. Hard for them to fire big guns."

Drew assault rifle. No need for stealth now.

"Ambush fast before they wise up. Escape later."

Nelson silent. Rain ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠drummed harder, filling the quiet.

"...Hah."

Rubbed face—blood smeared forehead.

"Didn't sign up for this shit joining the company."

"No choice."

"Yeah."

He looked up slowly. Eyes hardened with resolve, fear lingering.

"You're right. Sit tight? Die to them or ship blows. "

Raised glowing pistol, wry smile.

"Never thought I'd trust my life to a 25-year-old kid in this mess."

"Wouldn't be here without you, senior."

"...True."

Holstered, turned to me.

"Where to drop?"

"Bridge has schematics. Grab 'em."

We moved wordlessly.

—Pouring.

Rain raged. Distant thunder over sea. Deck lights blurred in puddles; container shadows deepened.

Looked down. Underground. Enemy turf. Fists clenched.

"...Seongjin."

"Yeah."

"We live. For real."

"We will."