Seoul Blockade
Tap, tap, tap. The sharp rhythm of fingers drumming on a tidy office desk filled the air. The moment the phone trilled—rrrring—Yu Sil-jang snatched up the receiver like a striking snake. It was Jeong Gwa-jang.
"How'd it go?"
[Park I-sa's team—total annihilation.]
"Total annihilation?"
[Yes. Park I-sa was the only one our Team 1 sniper pulled out with cover fire. The rest are all dead.]
"Haa. That sniper? What the hell was he doing letting Min Cheol-woo walk into his line of fire without dropping him? You didn't tell the kids to capture him alive no matter what, did you?"
[No, sir. I ordered them to kill on sight if they had a clear shot. But Min Cheol-woo suddenly clocked it, locked eyes, and started blasting away, so we had to break position...]
"What the fuck is that supposed to...?"
They'd set up across the Anyang Stream, so watching the Western Expressway meant at least 300 meters. And he'd spotted the sniper at that range, then counter-sniped? No way that sniper fucked up his hide and bolted in panic, right? Had to be. Yu Sil-jang nodded, forcing herself to buy it.
If he could spot a sniper at 300 meters, assassination was off the table. Back when he was on payroll, he was a harmless pushover. Now? A goddamn nightmare.
"So you lost him completely?"
[Yes. Trail's gone cold for now. Tightening the net starting from Yeouido.]
"Fuck, tsk..."
Tightening the net? Might as well call it gone for good. They'd pinned the car model and features from witness statements at the used car lot by the company hospital—what good was that? Park I-sa had fucked up, riddling a truck with bullets. Obvious Min Cheol-woo would ditch it now. And the grenades on the road, rocket launchers, full-auto spray—how the hell were they covering that up? Silencing witnesses, faking a vehicle explosion through the cops... where's the budget coming from?
No answers. National Intelligence Service wasn't staffed by idiots; at this point, a clean sweep was impossible. Time to decide what to cut out. If shit kept going south, it'd be Yu Sil-jang and Team 1 on the chopping block. Top priority: rack up results worth sparing.
[We'll secure him first, by any means necessary. Team 1 guarantees it.]
"Blue Drug. You got it?"
[Yes, ma'am.]
"Use it. Don't skimp. Park I-sa already popped some, right? No need to hold back now."
[Understood. We'll do it.]
Click. The line went dead, and Yu Sil-jang exhaled a long, seething breath. Truth be told, the real killer was the intel leak. Whatever slipped to Team 2 had likely spread worldwide. A rookie from airtight Team 1 goes rogue, shakes pursuit—this alone certified the bastard's skills. Now every Tom, Dick, and Harry would come sniffing. Her head throbbed just thinking about it.
The phone rang again. She snatched it irritably.
"What!?"
[Kim Team Leader... here. We have a... problem. Requesting backup.]
Gunfire crackled through the line, followed by a curt request—then dead air.
What the...? Team leader skipping the section chief and calling her direct? What the hell was discipline these days—then she remembered Kim's assignment. "Ah."
"Get the car ready!"
Snatching the longsword from the wall, Yu Sil-jang bolted out.
"Let's swap cars."
The moment they broke from the firefight, Cheol-woo bought a new ride. He'd used other vehicles for cover to avoid eating bullets himself, but a few holes in the truck were inevitable. Even with swapped plates, pursuit lingered. Time for a full change.
On the way, he ditched unneeded gear. Hands-on testing showed 5.56mm assault rifles were meh. Penetration was why he tolerated them grudgingly, but 7.62mm owned that category. Compact? Nah, SMGs in 9mm were smaller, lighter. Four calibers—9mm, 7.62mm, 5.56mm, .50 BMG—too much. Dumped all 5.56mm ammo and rifles, red dots too.
The sights weren't intentional. EMP-frying trackers wrecked them. But shooting iron sights? Clearer sight picture, no clutter. Muzzle aligned perfectly on grip; tracers burned bright after a few rounds. Holographics, irons—anything on the rail was just in the way for him.
"Feels lighter. Car handles peppy now."
"The old one wasn't a piece of shit?"
"Kinda feels like it. Rushed the kid to grab one—probably got a wreck."
"Ow."
"Hold still."
Something stuck to his cheek. Rearview showed a cartoon bandage—Rupert the something? Weird character.
"Not deep. Lucky..."
"That real sword that sharp? Thought the wavy blade was decorative—split skull like tofu."
"Dunno. First time slicing a guy with it... Masters cut skulls clean? Guess I qualify."
That wasn't a normal skull. Greentip 9mm stopped cold. Even Yuri's "master" would've struggled against a junkie skull. Skill aside, physics said no. But a shiny mall souvenir sword cleaved it clean? Sis had something going on, like his eyes and senses.
"Hold up, Cheol-woo. Check the board."
"Huh?"
Glancing at the roadside LED:
Tunnel fire closes all highway lanes.
Clear shoulder for emergency vehicles.
Ah. Traffic jammed insane lately. Fire trucks, cop cars surging past—no ordinary crash. Not punching through soon. Detour time.
"Swing to Seohae Expressway."
"Wait..."
"What?"
"Checkpoint at the Seohae on-ramp."
"Who said?"
"SNS..."
Yuri pulled up posts for "checkpoint." Blockades everywhere, even armored vehicles waiting. Truck vs. APC? No contest.
Land routes out of Seoul: sealed. Cheol-woo wheeled around.
"What now? Checkpoints on every road out? High-speed rail's screening too!"
"Land's done. Sun's dipping—crash for now."
"Huh? No smuggling boats at night?"
"Boats sail day, blend in. Thermals spot night runs easy. Media myth. Sis needs rest anyway."
"Me? Why? Ah..."
Grabbing his hand post-kill, she noticed. Her own trembled like leaves.
Since the beheading.
"Grab a room. Crash hard."
"Me alone?"
"Gotta guard the car."
"Scared. Sleep together."
"Car it is."
"..."
The car hummed into dusk. Cheol-woo stayed silent. No "that guy was scum," no "saved my ass" platitudes. Yuri remembered: he'd slotted people casually since morning. Hic. Not his first rodeo. How many? Would she go numb too?
Never pitied her brother more.
"Hah. What a psycho bitch."
Kyeongbu Dongtan Tunnel. Peering into the sealed depths, Yu Sil-jang gnashed her teeth.
Chain-reaction pileup, EV blaze. Bad, but not catastrophe. Extinguish, haul wrecks, reopen road. Fire and traffic brass agreed—why block entry from above?
"N-no, sir! Can't go in! Orders from up top—"
"We got those orders."
Flicking a business card, she shoved past into the dark. Staff unpacked rifles, assembling.
"No word from pursuit?"
"No, ma'am. All silent."
"Haaa..."
Tracked Han Si-yeon via cams after stubborn tail. Assigned Kim's team. Min Cheol-woo blew up, pulled half back to Seoul. Han's side was light; checkpoints at the end. Easy grab.
Then Kim calls backup. Pursuit goes dark. Tunnel's a shitshow.
"Everything inside not ours—shoot to kill."
"Yes, ma'am."
Weapon lights pierced ahead as they stormed in. Evacuees fled; dead stayed dead.
Something scratched in the quiet tunnel. Darting from light, red eyes gleamed in her beam.
Ratatata! Point man's carbine roared. Red-eyes shredded, collapsing in gore. But it reared up, growling—reloader fumbled.
"Move."
Slash. Her blade lopped its head. Checked the bullet-riddled corpse, mangled edge—sighed. Blue Drug, sure enough.
"Switch to AP rounds. Headshots."
"Yes."
More red-eyes lunged mindlessly inside. Tanked shots, charged. After three more down, Han's car appeared.
"Search. Bag our guys' bodies at least."
Corpses littered like trash. Yu Sil-jang crouched by a mangled face, checked wrist: Kim's watch. "Fucking bastards." Yanking it, a yell from the panic room.
"Found one!"
"Who? Drag 'em here."
"Curled in the car. Cleared the rest—nothing."
"H-hic! P-please, spare me!"
A woman dragged by the hair. Forehead scarred—not Han. Gas mask dangling; oxygen tank survivor.
Bending eye-level, Yu Sil-jang smacked her cheeks.
"Hey. Who're you?"
"M-me? Kim Mi-young!"
"Who the fuck's that?"
"C-counter clerk... employee..."
Relaxed 'cause same gender? Yu Sil-jang crushed her jaw. Face blanched.
"Where's Han Si-yeon? Spill."
"Han Si-yeon... hic... dunno... suddenly made us take pills, told us to jump from the car... I saw the others changing, got scared..."
Fuck—back of her neck cramped. Junkies wiped Kim's squad. Han slipped the chaos.
Guts to drug staff for counterattack—why wait? Why right when she thinned pursuit to one squad?
Obvious.
"Park I-sa, you... haa. What now with that asshole."
Park's radio leak on Min Cheol-woo reached Han. Big enough shitstorm, she'd pull her own pursuit for reinforcements. No checkpoint chatter? Han trashed pursuit, looped back to Seoul.
"Clean this by dawn."
"Huh? Till morning?"
"Questioning me?"
"N-no! We'll scrub it."
"And Han tail... shit, that's on us too?"
Team 1's gig from jump. Lost her? Their chase. Hunt Han while chasing Min Cheol-woo.
Park's fuckup, but she'd eat the shit for losing Han. Just thinking of him spiked her blood pressure, chest pounding, hands shaking.