The Great Chaos of Milano (2)

***

Now, this should go without saying, but those self-proclaimed "Milano Guardian Corps" bozos were absolutely not just a bunch of simple bank robbers.

Which made sense, because the weapons those bastards were packing were hardly the kind of garbage junk you'd expect to see in the hands of some ragtag refugees or whatever.

No, to put it precisely, the very first sight of them was enough to make you blurt out, "Whoa, tacti-cool!!!" — they had the complete, textbook appearance of a modern special forces unit.

As the reactions on the gallery made clear, watching them in action gave off an overwhelming vibe of "holy crap, that's badass!"

Especially given where I currently was — all quibbling aside, this was still the government building of a planetary capital — so the scale and quality of the security forces guarding it were, how should I put it.

Measured against Earth's standards, they were at worst on par with, or only slightly below, the presidential security detail protecting the Blue House.

Sure, lately they had a bit of a track record of getting breached every other week, and the previous heads of the Milano-V planetary government had been run out of town by internal unrest, which didn't exactly scream competence, but still.

The users who checked out my verification post all reacted with the same sentiment: "Um, is now really the time to be slacking off like this?"

And then, while I was busy posting my verification thread and scrolling through the reactions, the bastards seemed to have genuinely decided to go all in.

KRA-BOOM! CLANG!

"H-hiik!"

"Captain! Anti-air missile systems, ready to fire!"

"Even if the public security units roll up in armored vehicles, our comrades positioned throughout the building have it locked down and snipers at the ready. They won't be able to reach us here anytime soon."

"Reinforcements are standing by."

The disguised armored vehicles and anti-air missiles made it abundantly obvious they were repeatedly trying to intercept the reinforcements that would come rushing in once the situation was assessed — armored cars, shuttles, helicopters, the whole public security package.

On top of that, every single one of them radiated the air of a hardcore combat specialist, so in a way, the users' panic wasn't entirely misplaced.

President Heisenberg, whom I'd just bid farewell to moments ago, came sprinting back in a flurry, and after sizing up the current situation, he announced:

"My apologies, Benya. Seizing on the confusion of the regime change, a special forces unit that once served as henchmen of this Milano-V's previous administration has launched an attack!"

"Oh, so that's what it is?"

"Indeed. I did wonder why the assault was proceeding faster than expected — it seems they've been using ID credentials that the civil servants hadn't yet revoked."

"ID credentials?"

"After all, a special forces unit can hardly requisition vehicles, shuttles, or spacecraft every time without authorization from the officers in charge."

"...I see. Understood completely."

By furnishing me with a concise explanation of why this situation had come to pass — a one-stop situation briefing via the all-purpose wiki that was Ilena — I found myself freshly reminded of a fundamental truth: this is why keeping the peace and restoring normal administration matter most whenever mindless expansion or chaotic incidents blow up!

Meanwhile, as I listened, I tried picking up what the bastards on the captured first floor were saying through the CCTV feeds.

— "What's the status on the spaceport, the orbital elevator, and the power plant?"

— "Spaceport assault failed. Fighting is ongoing at the orbital elevator. The power plant team hasn't arrived yet."

— "Tell them to hurry. We must use this opportunity to eliminate President Heisenberg and Branch Chief Benya, who are scheduled to meet in this building."

"It appears they've employed the very same methods we used — sow chaos through a broad, sweeping surprise attack, then eliminate or neutralize pinpoint targets."

Listening to exchanges like that drift across the feeds left me feeling, well.

Whether it was the central government faction of the Milano System, convinced that things would genuinely fall apart for them at this rate, striking preemptively — or the original owners, the Milano-V planetary government, launching the raid themselves — I couldn't say.

But regardless, the important thing was that I now knew their target was me and President Heisenberg.

Deciding I'd learned everything worth learning, I turned to Ilena beside me. It was time to teach the bastards holding the first floor a lesson they'd never forget.

"So, assistant?"

"Yes, Doctor."

"How long do you think it'll take to deal with them?"

"Your protection comes first, Doctor."

"...Hmm."

Now, even though she'd clearly grasped my intentions, Ilena was hesitating to act rashly — all because of my protection, thanks to this frail body of mine that couldn't outlast a hamster.

"See, even I know I'm fragile these days, so I came prepared for exactly this! Ggomuli is hiding inside my body, tee-hee."

"Excellent foresight."

Reassuring me that I had nothing to worry about, she revealed that Ggomuli — the single most powerful combatant, and possessor of the mightiest defense, among all my current experiments — was wrapped around my body like a ballistic plate beneath the white lab coat.

She demonstrated that, should the enemy attack, a counterattack was ready to launch at a moment's notice.

Having confirmed just how thoroughly prepared I was, Ilena gave a brief nod at the sight.

"Then I shall depart at once. The forces outside will be handled by the chimera corps and the marines, so please don't worry."

"Okie."

Shedding her demure secretary-slash-adjutant-slash-assistant mode, she let out the full bearing of the current single strongest being in our branch — something that surpassed even Ggomuli and Ulongi.

And then, the very moment I watched the bastards shove the hostages they'd gathered at the center of the first floor into a corner — "they're in the way," apparently — and deploy a quadrupedal combat robot right where the hostages had been standing.

HISS! KRA-KA-BOOM!!

"Uwaaagh?!"

"E-enemy attack!"

"What the hell, that mech just got crushed in one hit... A superhuman! A superhuman has appeared!"

"No mercy for the vermin who came after the Doctor's life. Die."

RATATATATATA!

"Gyaaak!"

"Sh-she's not getting hit even once?!"

Leaping clean off the railing of the thirteenth floor, she collapsed the robot as if stuffing it into a compactor, then immediately began carving a bloody swathe through the mass of soldiers on the first floor.

And as I watched Ilena pull off this sudden genre drift from hostage crisis into slasher film, Heisenberg sidled up next to me.

He fixed me with an expression of exquisite complication — one laced with a faint sense of betrayal, as if to say, 'So you trusted me this little?' — and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dropped a loaded remark.

"Wait, you had something like this all along? That's why you were so confident?"

"Oh, this? It's just a knockoff."

"...Pardon?"

"It's not the real Ggomuli — just a strain infected by Ggomuli. Wearing it automatically handles heating and cooling, and it even absorbs your sweat and body odor for you."

"No, from what you're saying, it sounded like even without Assistant ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Ilena, it could still protect you, Benya."

"It defends, but it can't counterattack."

"...I see."

At my follow-up remark, the betrayal certainly did drain out of Heisenberg's face.

But in its place, an ineffable doubt began pooling in his eyes — the unmistakable look of a man wondering, 'Wait, then did you just bluff about deploying your subordinate to get rid of them?'