Hunting the Voice Phishers
Voice phishers are animals of adaptation. What was insanely tough at first has now become manageable. Life used to feel utterly hopeless ahead, but now skipping workouts leaves me feeling oddly empty.
Seeing you work out so hard lately makes me proud, Master.
I don't know why, but my muscles seem to be building faster than usual, and Athena loves it when I hit the gym hard.
"Guess I've adapted? It's more doable than I thought."
Adapted, Master?
Her voice drips with mischief—something feels off.
"...I've adapted, yeah?"
Got it. I'll tell the squad to ramp up the workout volume starting tomorrow.
One slip of the tongue, and tomorrow I'll be crawling on the floor again. No way she'd back off now even if I begged.
"Fuck this. I'll kill the door lock power and go ghost tomorrow."
Workout done, dinner eaten—what's next for a total NEET like me? Only one thing: nap time. Rest is just as crucial as training, right?
I was deep in a sofa nap when my phone suddenly blared. Unknown number starting with 010. My social circle's tiny, college on hiatus—who the hell?
Pissed at the rude wake-up, I pick up anyway, just in case.
"...Hello?"
My voice is hoarse from sleep—sounds grave.
"Is this Kwon Hyuk?"
"Yeah."
"This is Prosecutor Kim Min-su from the Seoul Central District Prosecutors' Office. An account in your name is linked to criminal activity..."
These fuckers haven't updated their script in years.
"Does your mom know you're pulling this shit?"
Waking me for voice phishing? I can't hold back, drop the mom jab, and hang up.
If anyone could tie Athena-managed accounts to crime, I'd gladly let 'em have it. But that's impossible—this caller's 100% a scammer.
Hang up, try to sleep again, but once you're up, you're up.
"...The more I think, the madder I get. Why doesn't the country nab these pricks?"
The country won't, so shall we?
"These assholes are in Southeast Asia or China, not Korea. Chasing 'em there wastes time."
The callers are in Cambodia. But their boss is in Korea.
"Boss in Korea? Where?"
Outskirts of Gyeonggi Province, a standalone house. Looks like a normal family home, but it's really a hub for overseas call centers, domestic money laundering bosses, and execs.
Gyeonggi outskirts—perfect spot where one missing person wouldn't raise flags. Shady operators like them? It'll take ages to notice.
"Call the squad. Was wondering when to test their skills—heaven just dropped a golden opportunity."
Moments later, the doorbell rings, and the squad files in.
"Morning report and now evening? Good evening."
They take seats at my greeting. TV on, stand nearby—windows tint opaque, blocking outside views.
"Dawn raid today on this house. Targets: bosses and execs running domestic phishing ops."
Their eyes shift instantly—no playful gym glares, just cold pro stares.
"Boss, ROE? Subdue all, or kill?"
Jacob asks in a deeper tone than usual.
Ideally, send 'em all to Jesus, but goal is subdue and hand to cops for judgment. Unless they resist hard or pose a leak risk later.
"No kills. Let the law judge 'em. But fierce resistance or threat of spilling on us? Different story."
TV screen pops up photos and profiles of eight men.
Total 8 in target house. 2 guards in yard, 6 inside. Combat level: street thug tier. Bats and knives max. Cut power/comms on entry cue, isolate, neutralize.
"Any other intel?"
Carlos asks, eyes gleaming, jovial vibe gone.
Of the 6 inside, 2 are MMA black belts. Rest: armed civilians. Primary: subdue. On-site judgment for kills OK, per Master.
Brief over, squad stands.
"Op time?"
0200 hours. Gear up, head to Taetan Industry, arm up, insert.
Planned to spectate from home, but curiosity won—I tagged along. Safe in the car anyway.
0030, first time back at the factory post-mod. Hand control to Athena per request; she pilots my body smoothly inside, hauls five Pelican cases to the squad's table.
Cases down, gesture—they crack 'em open.
"Boss made all this?"
Yes, Eric. Reverse-engineered from market guns, printed in high-precision alloy. Double durability, half noise.
'I didn't make shit like that.'
Shh, Master made them.
Suddenly charged with illegal firearms manufacturing, but no arrests coming, so whatever.
Jacob grabs his rifle and pistol first, tweaks and tests.
"Perfect. Balance is spot-on."
Custom-fit for each squad member, FYI.
Jacob's thrilled—must be top-notch.
Carlos caresses his heavy shotgun, LMG, and sledgehammer.
"This'll smash walls, not just doors? Boss, thanks—gonna blow off steam tonight."
"Easy does it, Carlos. All issued ammo is non-lethal: rubber and tranq rounds. Power-limited, so no kills unless headshots. Spray away."
Athena-in-my-body explains as they gear up preferred weapons and load into vehicles. Jovial vibes gone—they radiate "turn and run if you see 'em on the street."
0150, near the scammers' Gyeonggi outskirts house. Two vehicles, lights off, fog-hidden.
Benz back seat, slouched—five screens pop up: silent overhead drone, four helmet cams.
Approval, Master?
Scan screens, approve.
"...Go."
My word drops—four feeds bustle. Drone view: house quiet save second-floor lights, then pitch black as Athena cuts power.
Op start. All areas jammed.
Athena's voice hits squad—Liam ghosts forward. His NVG feed: eerie green glow.
Silent wall approach, vault, yard—closes on two smoking guards like a specter.
Pop-pop!
Suppressor coughs. Guards crumple with weird gurgles.
"...They look dead, no?"
Collapse looks fatal-ish. Just KO'd—don't worry.
Liam confirms downed guards, radios short.
"Yard clear, gate unlocked. Race, blocking rear exfil."
Liam unlocks front, heads rear—Jacob, Carlos, Eric feeds enlarge front-door.
Eye contact, Jacob signals mystery hand-sign. Carlos hefts Athena's sledge, sets.
"Breaching."