I'm Not an Escaped Prisoner, Though (3)
Smooth sailing.
Mina, settled in the middle of the procession, observed the battlefield through the eyes of the escaped prisoners at the front, locked in fierce combat.
A warzone thick with blood and bullets.
People charging ahead at the risk of death.
And guards and prisoners collapsing one by one.
The hellscape unfolding in the narrow corridor was far too brutal for a girl her age to stomach, so she cut off her ability and squeezed her eyes shut tight.
Gonna puke.
How could anyone stay sane watching blood spray and entrails scatter everywhere?
No matter how cutthroat the world had become, drowning in bloodshed, it was still horrifying to her—at least right now.
She hadn’t yet set foot in the shadows.
“You okay?”
“Yeah... I’m fine.”
“Almost done—just hold on a bit longer. We’ll be out of here soon.”
Out? Then what?
The question stuck in her throat, unspoken.
What’s gonna change even if we get out?
A child born to ordinary parents, but with snow-white hair and camera-lens eyes.
She’d lived her whole life hated by everyone since she was little.
You must’ve screwed some other guy—that’s why you popped out this freak!
What the hell are you talking about?!
Her misfortune had started at birth.
Her life—not even adulthood yet—had been nothing but a string of misery from the jump.
Beaten, cursed at, left to fend for herself.
At least she could go to school, a small mercy... but for a kid without parents to care, school was just another hell. She’d grown up in a prison with nowhere to run.
That’s why life in the detention center almost felt cozy by comparison.
She’d gone along with the escape plan because she’d sensed something inexplicable in the eyes of No. 11 watching her.
An emotion she’d never seen before.
It gnawed at her, wondering what it was.
What the hell is it?
The man who’d arrived at the center before her.
He’d been as listless as her once, but suddenly he was like a different person—chatting her up, plotting the escape.
Come to think of it, that weird guy was the first to ever ask my name.
A name an acquaintance had slapped on her out of pity, since her parents couldn’t be bothered.
A name they’d never once called her by.
I wonder if things are going okay over there...
Her musing slid naturally into worry.
And as if shaking her from it, the elderly man beside her spoke up.
“Kid, we’re nearing the end now.”
Mina lifted her head and peered ahead.
Too short to see the front lines clearly, but the crowd’s momentum hadn’t slowed—she figured the breakthrough was going smooth.
“The garage is right ahead! Everyone, push!”
Faces in the throng brightened bit by bit.
Finally, a way out of this hell of gunshots and screams.
The prisoners’ rebellion surged fiercer for it.
Despair, meanwhile, etched itself on the guards’ faces.
“Push back! They’re outnumbered!”
“Damn it! Losing ground to escaped convicts?!”
“Can’t let ’em hit the garage! Hold till the captain gets here!”
Lacking gear and manpower, the guards defended the garage with desperate fury.
If the prisoners broke through, it’d spiral way out of control.
Crushing the revolt right here was the only way to keep the fallout minimal.
Run now, and we’re dead meat!
Fleeing meant a lifetime as fugitives; fight and survive, and maybe leniency.
These janitorial squad guards steeled themselves anew.
But grit couldn’t beat sheer numbers.
Eventually, they fell back to the defensive line at the garage entrance.
“Damn it!”
“There’s a telepath in the mix!”
“Drop the chargers first!”
A hopeless spot—they wouldn’t last ten minutes.
Then a familiar voice rang out from behind.
“Squad leader, status report.”
“Captain! Detention center prisoners revolted! No word from the lab—looks like they’re...”
“Wiped out. Or taken prisoner.”
“Orders, sir?”
“I’ll take it.”
A declaration that screamed suicide.
But not one guard raised a concern.
Relief, instead.
“Clear a path.”
Guards snapped shields aside in unison.
Through the gap strode the Guard Captain to the battlefield’s heart, glaring down the prisoners.
“Vermin who forgot their place and crawled this far.”
Instinct screamed to the front-runners: this guy was different. Like a giant looming before them.
“Move!”
The lead prisoner lunged, bolstered by top-tier body strengthening.
A real threat to any normie.
To the Guard Captain? Pathetic thrashing.
“Time to pay for my men’s blood.”
His voice rumbled like a beast’s growl through the corridor. The prisoner smashed into his fist and rocketed back at full speed, wrecking the formation.
“The guy who tanked bullets... one-shot...”
“Captain’s the real deal!”
“Mop these quick, then hit the lab intruders.”
“Yes, sir!”
“N-no, stay back!”
Bullets and superpowers hammered the Guard Captain’s frame. Nothing pierced.
Never thought the superpower enhancement research would pay off like this.
A black-budget government project.
Abilities grew through endless repetition, sure.
But that took ages, so they’d secretly cooked up enhancement procedures.
Guinea-pigging scraped-up and snatched folks nationwide.
He was prototype stock.
Not perfect—needed regular stabilizers—but his power had spiked noticeably.
Could eat a grenade point-blank, no scratches.
Once these pests are squashed, track down that stabilizer formula.
Institute head alive? Sorted.
Dead? Another lab.
He couldn’t survive without it.
Got a week’s supply...
“Die! Die already!”
“Tickles.”
Bullets that’d shredded endless flesh pinged off his skin to the floor.
Even face shots that looked promising left zero marks. The battlefield flipped in seconds.
“W-we can’t win this...”
As charging prisoners met grisly ends one after another, terror infected the rest.
Terror of death.
Their resolve crumbled against power too vast to breach.
“Damn! Link with Team A first—”
“You’re the linchpin, huh.”
A bullet punched through the telepath’s brow at the formation’s core.
Swift. Dead-on.
Guard Captain holstered his pistol, advanced step by deliberate step.
Trailing sprays of blood and guts.
“Run!”
Pushed back by trash like this...
Hollow, he swung mechanically. The struck man’s head exploded like glass, fountaining blood.
One hit.
Normies couldn’t take it.
“Guards! Able-bodied, on me. Herd these back to the cells and purge the lab raiders.”
Slaughtering them outright was tempting, but the fight raged on.
Save ammo for real threats over gutless quitters, he judged.
No point wasting shots on flies he could pulp barehanded.
Lotta questions for the escape ringleader.
“No shooting—buttstroke ’em. Ammo’s precious.”
“Yes, sir!”
They drove the prisoners rearward, pressing on.
Stragglers became tumbling corpses.
How far they’d gone, he didn’t know.
Then, amid the bodies, the Guard Captain spotted a girl.
“This bitch is still kicking!”
“Weird-looking thing...”
“What now?” “Teach the vermin what happens when they step outta line.”
S-scary...
This the end?
Mina shut her eyes as the captain closed in.
If death was coming anyway—
“No...”
Don’t wanna die.
Ending it like this? Hell no!
“Talking vermin, eh.”
“Mmph... ugh...”
Mina’s legs kicked feebly.
Survival thrashing, but a fragile girl slipping an ability user’s grip? Miracle odds.
“...Captain, kinda wasteful...”
“...Do it.”
Through her dimming sight, Mina pictured someone.
The first to ask her name.
“...Isak-ssi.”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
The Guard Captain threw up a hand on instinct.
Whatever smacked his face was some mystery drug.
Stinging burn on his knuckles.
Dunno the chem.
He flung the out-cold Mina aside and loomed over the tanned man planted boldly before him.
“Filthy vermin...”
“What’s a geezer like you get outta bullying kids?”
No. 11 flashed a shit-eating grin and bellowed.
“Seokho, grab Mina! Rest of you, engage that monster freak!”
The bosses’ showdown kicked off.