Sin City Boom!
With a cheerful boom!, the bike shattered. John Friedman flew through the air with a whoosh before crashing onto the road and tumbling away. Cheol-woo shouldered his railgun, took careful aim at the bastard's head, and fired. Bang! Right after the sound, the guy's skull exploded, splattering green slime and brain matter everywhere.
Confirmed kill—finally, Cheol-woo let out a breath of relief. The fucker was too dangerous to let escape and find another host.
It's really over—only then did it sink in, and Cheol-woo flopped onto the ground. This was the moment the strategic objective of expelling all remaining federal forces from the West had been achieved.
The NewTontonMan suit let out a long puhaaa as Yuri pulled off her helmet and collapsed beside him. A soldier with bullet graze marks on his chest walked over, chuckling wryly.
"You asked if we had the Bond, so I wondered what for. Turns out it was to glue back together some already fucked biscuit. Should've given us a heads-up. I nearly shot for real, thinking you were actually handing over the launch codes."
"Don't worry. Even if you tried, I'd take you down before your finger touched the trigger."
"Haha..."
At first, when the launch codes got "disposed of" on the sly, it had been bewildering, but in the end, they'd come in handy. To the parasites, those nuclear launch codes were a joker card they had to seize at any cost—a deus ex machina. If they could get the codes, they'd sacrifice the entire federal West in a heartbeat. That's the psychology they'd exploited.
"So the launch codes are gone for good?"
"Yep. Incinerated. Of course, this is classified. The U.S. losing control of its nukes must never leak out."
"Naturally. I'll remind everyone who knows about them."
He'd burned the black card's contents and slipped in a note saying "dumbass" instead. Too bad he hadn't seen John Friedman's face when he pulled it out—that was a regret for the ages.
Once the soldier turned and walked far enough away, Yuri turned her head and whispered quietly.
"Bullshit, right?"
"Total bullshit. I memorized it all."
"Knew it. You sneaky fuck."
Burn the nuclear codes just like that? No way in hell. Cheol-woo had memorized every cipher before torching the documents. Now the codes existed only in his head. If the U.S. faced invasion before updating them, he'd need to use these. Couldn't just trash something that tied into America's fate—and the dollar and defense stocks turning to confetti.
"Nah, can't just sit it out."
The West was flooded with blue drug, dispersed in the air. Regular troops couldn't even enter, and planes stayed grounded fearing engine damage. Only ability-user forces could operate here—and the feds' were now wiped out. All military facilities in the West were rebel hands, momentum secured. Kicking out the nuke-less feds was just a matter of time.
"Party in Vegas? What d'you think?"
"Ugh, dunno. I just wanna peel this off, shower, and crash..."
"Vegas it is. Leave the rest to them."
Time to rest—Cheol-woo and Yuri clasped hands and stood. Glancing back, he saw surrendered federal troops being restrained. Among the POWs stood out someone totally out of place. A blonde girl? Didn't look like an adult, no uniform either.
"Who's that?"
"Kid from the enemy command vehicle. Won't say a word about ID."
"She looks rough. Instead of cuffing her, ship to Vegas for food, water, then interrogate separately?"
"Smart. Let's do it."
Family of an enemy soldier? Hollow eyes, unresponsive—clearly traumatized. She'd dehydrate or collapse before LA transport arrived. Vegas was best.
Las Vegas PD rolled up quick on contact. Soldiers stayed to escort POWs to LA; Cheol-woo, Yuri, the blonde girl, and her guard hopped in the cop car toward Vegas.
"Looks harmless enough... but we'll hold her at the station just in case. I'll handle watch and questioning—you two rest easy."
"Thanks."
"Yawwwn... fuck, I'm dying of sleep..."
Two days no shut-eye, running nonstop. No wonder she was beat. Cheol-woo flexed his hand, feeling mild fatigue—not crashing yet. Blue drug awakening lingered.
City of pleasure, my ass. Quieter than expected.
Contrary to expectations, Vegas was subdued. Not just residential—not even the casino-packed Strip. Few people, no flashing lights, no fountains or shows.
"This Vegas?"
"War's on. No tourists, no party vibe."
Go have fun, they said—no fun to be had. Cheol-woo looked a bit disappointed when the cop glanced back from the driver's seat.
"Rebels or feds?"
"Aussies. Supporting rebels."
"Oh. Big win? Rebels hitting Vegas is rare. Weren't they pinned in LA?"
"Major victory. West's all ours now."
"No shit? Awesome. You there... uh, what to call you? Real name classified?"
"Call me SteelRain."
"SteelRain. SteelRain... wait."
The cop murmured it softly, then eyes widened.
"SteelRain! That psycho from the radio chatter!?"
"...Pardon?"
"You know you're huge in Vegas? Radio's nonstop: SteelRain wrecked a company, a battalion! Brace yourself— you're popular here."
"...?"
What the hell? Cheol-woo was baffled, lost for words.
Despite the Sin City nickname, Vegas stayed quiet through the war. Folks fled south from blue drug tornadoes; survivors minimized outdoor time to curb mutants, living like any other city. Winds died down, air concentration dropped—no more gas masks outdoors—but Vegas didn't change. Flaunting wealth would just draw feds for looting.
That vibe held until SteelRain showed up.
"SteelRain! SteelRain! SteelRain! SteelRain!"
"Hey! More booze! No—all of it!"
Vegas streets, once barren, filled with people and lights in an instant, pulsing with festival energy. Prime entertainment had been eavesdropping on battlefield radio—sipping beer, gauging the war. Lately, "SteelRain" callsign exploded in frequency.
One-man army cornering John Friedman's division—that was Vegas's view of SteelRain. Now he'd arrived, announcing he'd killed Friedman and dismantled his forces. Word spread citywide; cheers erupted, party engulfed all.
"Fuck. How'm I supposed to sleep..."
Thump-thump-thump-thump—vibrations shook the whole room. Yuri gave up on sleep and got up. Going insane—whole city partying, nowhere to hide. Quieter in residential? Nope—houses blasting music, folks dancing wild.
"Ugh..."
Door open—assault of ear-splitting noise. Yuri winced. Good soundproofing, huh—but building-shaking racket laughed at walls.
Cheol-woo asleep? Next room empty. Amenities untouched—hadn't even entered. What the hell at this hour? Yuri swallowed irritation, headed to the first-floor club.
"Having a blast, huh..."
Sure enough—Cheol-woo at a wide table, sipping booze. Flanked by scantily clad women, downing drinks happily. Guy who hated booze taste usually, but sweet-talking worked wonders.
Fuck—why so gross? Yuri clenched fists, charged—then superhuman restraint stopped her. Ruining his fun felt bad.
"Asshole. Guess I sleep after he crashes."
Won't get tangled with some weirdo or spy, right? Worried, Yuri returned to his room to wait.
No enemies in Vegas, but disguised spies could stir shit—couldn't fully relax.
Tick-tock—four hours passed, no sign. Yuri rose to drag him by the hair—
"Whoa! Presidential suite? First time!"
"Kuhuhu. Me too. Hotel boss handed keys when I dropped my callsign."
"Ooh, so cool~!"
Thud—door flew open, chatter and footsteps flooded in. Cheol-woo appeared in the hall, beaming, women on each arm. Spotting stone-faced Yuri arms-crossed on the sofa—froze solid.
No wrongdoing, but guilt hit hard.
"Who's she?"
"My... wife. Ignore her."
"For real?"
"Hehe. If not joining, send us out, SteelRain."
Yuri's face soured more. Did I fuck up? Cheol-woo hiccuped.
Felt guilty, but no reason to bow.
"Sis, still up?"
"Not up—couldn't sleep. Worried about you."
"R-Right. Can you leave? Wanna rest."
"..."
Yuri eyed Cheol-woo and half-naked women arms-crossed. Clinging like lovers, hands roaming. One grinned up at him with a condom in her mouth.
'Rest' meaning obvious.
"What? Gotta ask sis to bring girls to my room? Chill—no dating."
"..."
Cheol-woo pushed hard—regretted instant as Yuri stood and approached. Getting beat? Wouldn't survive sis's punches. Eyes squeezed shut—then Yuri faced the woman on his right arm. Snap—snatched the condom.
Ripped it open, filled with sink water. Ballooned, then leaked from hole at tip. Yuri shot Cheol-woo an I knew it glare.
"See? You advertise SteelRain everywhere, sluts swarm for your genes."
"..."
SteelRain as one-man army rumors rife; maybe strong kids inherit powers? But actual gene theft? Women eyed each other, backed off, fled.
Yuri ground teeth, yanked Cheol-woo's collar close.
"Shower and sleep. And never let that dick run wild again."
"O-Okay..."
Cheol-woo meekly agreed. Nothing else to say.