2195 Apartheid (11)
Blood droplets scattered through the air like confetti. The peeled-off mask traced a parabola before succumbing to gravity and clattering across the floor. I'd thought seeing so much blood and bodies today had numbed me completely, but my mind shattered anyway. My chest burned like a dagger plunged into it.
Logically, I should've drawn my rifle right then and fired back to survive. But my hands were already following Horatio, grabbing Omen by the back and dragging him along.
"Omen---!!"
"Those fucking honorless psycho bastards...!!"
Rat-a-tat-tat---!! Bang!! Bang...!!
I had no idea if my puny strength helped at all. But I dragged Omen's collapsing body—thud!—whatever it took to shield him from the hail of bullets and haul him under the stairs.
Domino, who'd been poking out just his pistol to return fire, ducked low once it seemed the traitorous suppression team wasn't pursuing anymore.
"Hoo... haa... huff!"
Sizzle...!
In that brief moment, he'd yanked out the bullet lodged in his shoulder with a jackknife, no hesitation. Blood streamed out, and whether from blood loss or the drug's side effects, his legs trembled visibly even as he leaned against the wall.
"You fucking assholes!! Look before you shoot, look!"
"That's why we only shot Omen and the netrunner, right? Daredevil or a hacker's bound to have skinweave anyway..."
"That's not something you know for sure, so we said shoot the skin only...!! You really wanna die here?!"
Ignoring the chatter from above, we secured the immediate area and checked on Omen first.
I probed his sprawled-out abdomen, facing the ceiling. The closer I got to the wound he'd been covering, the stickier the liquid on my hands. It hadn't been this soaked just moments ago... These mercenaries knew exactly where to rip into.
Forcing down the fear, I lifted my gaze a bit. His muscular chest rose and fell slowly. He was still breathing...!
"Omen!! Can you hear me?! You're alive, right?!"
".........My head hurts like hell."
"...!!"
For a fleeting second, joy surged at that heavy response—like a hungover dad grumbling on a morning after a bender. But his face... it was in bad shape.
They'd succeeded in prying open his existing wounds, but cracking that Zygote-reinforced skull seemed beyond them. Crumpled bullets were embedded in his forehead and scalp. His cheek was deeply torn, exposing teeth even with his mouth shut, and his collapsed nose made breathing ragged, whistles escaping constantly.
But the worst wound was elsewhere.
"......Can't see shit. Did those bastards kill the lights...?"
"......"
Horatio bit his lip. He had to. Where Omen's sharp eyes should've been... only red blood and shredded flesh oozed from both sockets.
If the optic nerves were totally wrecked, even Enama's top-tier regen service might not save his sight—basic treatment pods or serums wouldn't cut it. And for guys like them, dumping every credit into mods or gear, billions weren't lying around.
That satisfied gaze back at the hotel. The flickering eyes in battle. The inner light shining through his stiff, antisocial facade—gone forever.
Zygote procedures rebuilt you into a whole new body, reconstructing nearly everything. Made sense it'd change you. But if memory served, the one part that stayed the same was the eyes...
How must he feel, robbed of them...?
"...I'll hook you up with some killer cyber eyes later. X-ray vision sound good...?"
"......Better off blind for life. ...Hack! Don't even dream of dragging me to that chop shop you went to..."
I could only admire how these two still had jokes left in this mess.
Once, teetering on death's edge, I'd given up and closed my eyes. I'd killed outlaws cursing to the end, seen beasts beg for life in the underbelly.
This was their strength. Ready to face any obstacle head-on, no dodging. A shine born from desperation I could never match—pearls forged in the darkest depths.
Bzzz...!
A low hum, and Horatio's implants lit up again. Right—nothing was over yet.
The suppression team heading for 7th Street had shown the heaviest firepower and quickest cleanup, but our side wasn't pushovers. Plus, Paradise waited outside with their prize incoming. Time was on our side...!
Boom!!
Daredevil leaped up. No way was I staying a bystander—I prone on the jagged stairs like Domino, rifle barrel braced at the edge.
I didn't know their full game plan, but screwing a Mega Corp over the head? The price would be brutal.
- This is the retrieval team returning!! Right now......!
- "Like hell that's happening...!!"
The enemy captain, who'd been cowering behind ballistic shields to hold the perimeter, smugly kicked a crate our way. In his hand: a sinister detonator.
The basement, bathed in Daredevil's green glow, gained a new light source. What emerged... a long coil wrapped in dangerous sparks, plastered with miscellaneous parts.
"!!"
Before I could finish the distress call or Horatio crush them, that red switch—bringer of civilization's doom—clicked first.
Click...!
..............------------!!
"Fuck...!!"
A wasp's wingbeat roared, and the world crumbled. A white flash hurled my floor-stuck body downward in a shockwave. No clue how to roll properly tumbling down stairs like this. Tried shielding my head, but my temple smacked the edge—vision blacked out.
Clanging metal meant my dropped rifle tumbled with me.
EMP (Electro Magnetic Pulse: powerful electromagnetic surge)... For real...?
These lunatics torching the whole block to jam comms...?! Unshielded electronics everywhere would fry—total chaos...
"Ugh?!"
A flashlight—no, tactical lights from the mercs' guns—shone on my face. I'd thought the head smack blinded me, but the underground passage lights were all dead.
Crack!!
"Gahk...!"
"!! Domino!"
Domino, barely clinging to the upper stairs, got booted by a combat boot and dropped beside me. Amid the chaos, I reached for my pistol at the sight—but dense gun muzzles pinned me. Slowly, I pulled my hand from the holster.
Omen critically wounded, Domino combat-ineffective. But still...!
......Wait, where's Horatio?
The guy who'd moved fiercest couldn't be this quiet. Weird.
Scanning carefully, a green silhouette lay at the bottom with us—like a bottomless pit swallowing the dead, a coffin for corpses in the dark tunnel.
"Ah..."
Direct EMP hit fries circuits physically with surge current. So what happens to a human plastered with implants?
Especially circuits near the brain, a vital spot...?
"......"
Charred like a collapsing ash pile, Horatio twitched in spasms. Scratching the floor with nails midway... Small mercy. His hair carbonized to powder from the tips, but alive.
And... if alive, there's a chance.
"How the hell you gonna live after fucking over a Mega Corp...?"
"...Retrieval team's hacker's got skills but no street smarts. Obviously working for another Mega Corp, right? Enama Corp bid billions for the data and threw in a bomb. Totally different league."
The merc scanning the downed retrieval team tossed back an absurd reply.
......Shortsighted idiots.
For an op Paradise dumped billions into, trying to ash it all with one bomb and hot air? Pathetic.
"...Even if you jammed comms, you won't make it past the control line before we loop back. Paradise'll smoke you. ...Hell, even if you snag the data, you're lab rats."
"......Pretty sexdroid like you's got a sharp tongue. Shame there's no time...!"
The threat unchanged, the merc extended his hand boldly.
"Memory card. Paradise prepped it—should be fine, yeah? Hand it over quick."
"Ha...! Like I'd hand it over and not get shot...?"
Bang!!
"Grk...!!"
"!!"
The bullet hitting his gauntlet ricocheted harmlessly, luck holding. But even that jar made Omen cough blood froth.
"This ain't a negotiation. You ain't in that position."
"......"
My thoughts spun uselessly, bitter bile coating my mouth. No escape in sight. My turn—the least banged-up one—to act, but wrong answers ghosted around.
...Eyes met Domino's, who'd slyly palmed a blue syringe. I blinked denial. What could a wrecked patient do...?
Grrrrrind!!
"I...! Didn't survive this long to die on a day like this...!!"
Another dumb patient. Nails cracking or not, pissed-off Horatio scraped the floor and flipped over.
"...Daredevil. Shoving in junk implants like crazy—look at you now. Yellow trash from the slums get some experimental shit and strut... This is what happens!"
"Fuck off! And you? Citizenship color feeding you so you double-deal...?!"
Gun swung on him, middle finger high defiantly. Half-machine surviving EMP? Lucky, not invincible—yet he acted godlike.
Drag this out, they'll just kill us all and search the bodies. They want Dusk's data. I want... retrieval team's survival.
......Ha. Horatio... said give and take, right...?
Scales unbalanced? No choice. Only thing I could offer was set from the start.
...Playing another's game straight wasn't my style anyway.
Even animals teach lessons—I'd live it now.
Trembling hand into jacket lining. Traitors halting triggers at my move.
Seeing the memory card grudgingly drawn, they grinned viciously. One step, two. Eyes locked on the billion-credit ticket, I transmit the data. Hands and legs shaking anxiously... now!!
"Ah...!!"
"?! You braindead bitch---!!"
The card slipped prettily from my hand, hit the floor—boot crushed it mercilessly. All gaped at billions shattering before them.
Click...!
Peacemaker to my head, they stared dumbfounded—like, what the fuck?
Expected a couple shots drawing the gun. Good start.
"......Now the extracted data's only in my head, so take me too. In exchange... let these three live."