2195 Apartheid (7)
Numerous faces twisted in terror. Even I couldn't have made a rational judgment in that situation. But... knowing full well it was almost impossible, they instinctively turned their backs on the threat to their lives and screamed.
"!! Those crazy corporate bastards actually fired...!!"
"We gotta get inside right now...!!"
Tukwa-kakakak------!!
All I could hear was up to that point. If the grenade I'd detonated point-blank earlier had left me with ringing ears, this gunfire—beyond the audible range—created a complete zone of silence instead.
Crack...
Bodies reeling from direct hits by the projectiles didn't even have time to hit the ground before the storm swept them away, limbs disintegrating. They might've made plenty of wrong choices and mistakes in life, but whatever had once been human was dismantled in an instant, splattered evenly across the pavement and walls.
The gruesome, blood-soaked silent film unfolding before my eyes numbed the sensation in my limbs. Was my body simply frozen from witnessing overwhelming violence, or was it cognitive dissonance from a scene too unreal to process? Hard to pinpoint.
I'm not exactly denying the logic of survival of the fittest, something as crucial as capital itself.
Take me, for instance—I'd ground Enama Corp's forces to dust just like this, blown outlaws' heads without a second thought, slept fine afterward, and felt no regrets.
"......"
I snuck a glance at my teammates' faces. They could've passed for fresh-faced early-20s grads in the 21st century, yet they stood their ground silently, as if they'd anticipated this carnage.
But... no way in hell could I say they looked remotely pleased, even as a joke.
Horatio kept clenching and unclenching his fists, busy reining himself in. Domino crossed his arms and shut his eyes tight. Omen... his twitching muscles kept knocking his mask askew, so he adjusted it with one hand.
...The tendons bulging furiously on his neck from sheer rage were kinda scary.
The other mercs, meanwhile, just stayed vigilant in case those turrets turned on them, showing no real complaints about the tactics.
......Obviously better to kill than be killed.
Maybe we should be grateful the Mega Corp folks were slashing enemy numbers and risk with such a flashy preemptive strike.
But would stomping on people who'd never posed a threat in the first place really make us safer...?
Kururung...
As the smoke cleared, the only moving things were chunks of concrete crumbling from the cracked building walls. The overheated barrel gradually cooled, and new comms came in.
"....... 1st Street's done...?"
I muttered, and in the meantime, the merc team—night-vision geared up—stormed the building in perfect sync.
Luckily, it really was an abandoned wreck; they finished searching without much fuss or gunfire and pulled out...
Which also meant no targets.
"...This is too fucking much...!!"
A visceral revulsion I couldn't logically explain forced its way out of my gut.
"They're gonna keep bulldozing like this until they sniff out Painkiller and the boss. ...Might've been too intense for you, sis."
"......The rights of the overwhelmingly strong."
"Long as I get to kill that Dusk fucker, I got no complaints."
The three chimed in, one after another, with a hint of resignation.
The wall of reality that crushed their hearts—after clawing their way to a position secure enough to live comfortably, with strength and cash to boot.
This was the terror of a Mega Corp.
......But something felt off.
That realization sparked a tiny flame in the part of me ready to back off, figuring a mere hacker like me couldn't do shit.
"Fuck this...!"
Even if it was just the history of some game world totally divorced from reality.
Even if it was riding the massive flow—the main scenario—I'd smashed every mega-corp and system in existence hundreds of times over.
Didn't matter if my role in Neo Haven Prime wasn't the protagonist.
I had the skills and knowledge to bulldoze the bullshit right in front of me...!
"...Hey, you guys said you're from the slums, right? No clue how long Painkiller or whatever's been around, but spit out every spot you suspect might be their base. Especially you, Domino—you seem to have a personal grudge, so don't hold back."
""......""
The dense idiots stared at each other, not getting it. I spotted residents in the 2nd Street building eyeing our jittery convoy and mercs from the corner of my vision, so I quickly added,
"Corps don't do shit that loses them money, even if you beat 'em to death...! They're only pulling this brute-force crap 'cause the ammo and op costs are cheaper than the data value or the bill for probing Yellow Sector!"
So... just help me out a little. Help me do the right thing, ease my conscience.
The distance between people can feel infinite even face-to-face.
But the moment sincere words spill out, it's miraculously close.
...My utterly selfish sincerity got through better than anyone's.
"...Between 5th and 7th. That area's got heavy patrols, sis!"
"This the... big-sis tolerance? Seen a few shady types near 6th. ...Not certain."
"That's plenty...!!"
Whack!!
"Guhk?! Hacker girl!?"
I snatched the broker's laptop wedged under his arm.
No matter how linked to the city's mega-network, diving my consciousness straight in needed a medium.
Once this was over, I had to buy a proper terminal for hacks.
My mind floated briefly, and I stepped into my familiar study.
Kugung!!
First, I swept away the useless bookshelves manifesting the laptop's junk data with a gesture.
Searching Harvest Planet's connected network for Painkiller, Dusk, and Brightside Avenue unleashed a near-infinite data flood.
The overly broad query had the computer's processors screaming in protest...
Please finish the job and die!
My head hurts more!!
Finally, I peered into the massive vortex of info.
Sales of their drugs handled by thoroughly compartmentalized grunts...? Useless.
Intermittent vibrations detected near 6th. Old post, not sure if relevant.
A veiled photo of Painkiller's boss, presumed to be Dusk...?
......Bingo!
Shitty quality, but dark skin, fat build. The slum rich-black-guy vibe matched the target intel from the Mega Corp pretty well.
"?! Sis! Your nose is bleeding...!"
"?! Shut up! You're breaking my focus!!"
I snapped at Horatio for disrupting my accelerated mental image.
Never tested how vividly external stimuli bled through during a hack—didn't realize it'd be this intense.
...Needs work.
I reached out, scraping together floating images from the digital realm.
Filming zone limited to Brightside Avenue. No matter how hardcore the criminal, they had to step outside sometime in life.
Compared, cross-referenced, analyzed, overlaid photos and vids.
..........Found you, asshole.
Tak... tak!
Exiting the study, I manipulated the laptop.
Attached all the evidence and blasted it to the shared comms channel for everyone to see.
...Figured plenty of mercs hated combing buildings and shooting all night for the same pay...
But who I was really convincing? The Paradise Corp staff and commandos controlling this op and the turrets, absent from the scene.
...The turret vehicles and mercs heading for 2nd Street slowed to a crawl.
In this world, nothing hits harder than realizing how inefficient and credit-wasting your actions are.
"Haaa......"
The breath I'd been holding burst out.
"Sis......!"
"...What if I burn out before the op even starts."
A deep, resonant voice—nothing like the prior robotic tones—rumbled in my head, nearly buckling my knees right there.
I shot Omen a grateful look as his big hand gently supported my back.
Wiped my stinging nose on my forearm.
...The jacket's stain-resistant material left noseblood smeared all over my mouth. Annoying.
I shoved the probably-fried laptop—components likely toast—back into our broker's chest with all my pettiness.
"Ugh?!"
"Better scrap this laptop entirely. ......It's got logs of unauthorized intrusions everywhere."
"......What?"
Whatever his sour face over unplanned expenses, or the siblings' awe at top-tier hacker prowess and worldly truths, or the residents' relief as the army passed their humble homes...
Heavy weapons... droids... and most crucially, drugs.
A bit too vicious for a mere crime syndicate, chewing over the hidden intel.
A bad premonition this night would drag on forever—I tilted my head back and stared at the sky.
......When the hell would this nosebleed stop?