Hell Scroll (5)
"Hmm..."
Shining his light into the blood-soaked interior of the building, Cheol-woo let out a low groan. The corpses were sliced clean, every one frozen in expressions of sheer terror. No wonder, he thought. If a bulky NewTontonMan in full hazmat gear comes flying at you at light speed swinging a longsword, I'd die with a dumbass look on my face too.
"Barely any bullet hits?"
He checked the hazmat suit's plates, figuring they'd need replacing, but they were practically pristine. A few impacts—tiny fragments or a couple of pistol rounds embedded in the steel plates. The ceramic backing behind them was untouched.
"Yeah. Dodged most of 'em."
"Dodged?"
"Why're you so surprised? I heard what you said and copied you. Like at the department store. You said watch the bullet trajectories and duck into dead zones."
"..."
That was for when smoke grenades created a bullet curtain. Not charging straight in. And yet she'd dodged gunfire while wearing that thick, heavy hazmat suit? Spotting muzzles and juking aside? Maybe GeumMyeong Security's ideal recruit wasn't him—it was Yuri.
"These guys seem like they came from mainland China. Their tones weren't like Hong Kong locals."
"So China sends these poorly armed fuckers..."
No IDs to confirm identities, but their speech patterns screamed southerners—no, not southern China. If they were government, they had no beef with his crew. Han Si-yeon was here on Communist Party orders too, after all. So were these independents? Or government plants planning a backstab? Endless possibilities.
"Let's head back. Looks like we cleared most of 'em."
"Yeah..."
Cheol-woo checked his ammo and called the retreat; Yuri, stomach already rumbling, agreed instantly. Pistol and rifle rounds were running low. All that was left was the new-model rifle looted from those white guys earlier—chambered in .277 Fury. MCX-based, maybe? Incredibly heavy, fat mags. Only about twenty rounds per mag. What was the point over a 7.62mm? Why'd the US even develop this? The poor bastards field-testing it had to be suffering.
If it's superior to 7.62mm, it might be useful...
New ammo meant good performance, sure. But 7.62mm was everywhere, mass-produced for ages. .277 Fury was just starting limited US rollout. Even 7.62 was scarce here—Fury? Forget it. Fine for looted short-term use, but no good as a primary long-term. They'd probably ditch them soon for AKs.
The path back to base was quiet. The machine-gun barrage must've drawn the mutants away, letting them slip past unnoticed. They moved silently—until something caught Cheol-woo's eye.
"Why'd you stop?"
"Corpse."
"Corpses are everywhere, why—oh."
Bodies littered the streets—humans and mutants alike—but one stood out. Inside the church. Kneeling in prayer, hands clasped. Pallid face, shriveled eyes screamed corpse, yet the pose made it look eerily alive.
"...?"
But it wasn't alone. Deeper in, five more in identical poses, lined up.
"What the hell is this...?"
"Ch-Cheol-woo, mutants are gathering. Let's go."
"One sec. Gotta check more."
As Yuri shivered anxiously, Cheol-woo approached. A chill prickled his skin, hairs standing on end. Something was off. He'd seen plenty of bodies by now. These had desiccated eyes—old deaths—but barely any stench. Compared to the container piles, they smelled like perfume.
"What is this?"
Circling behind, his jaw dropped. Moonlight through stained glass illuminated the backs of their heads. Skulls cracked open, revealing empty voids inside. Pristine hollows, no gore. Beyond his comprehension.
"Wh-what now?"
"Their skulls are empty. Inside, it's..."
"Ahh, stop. No more details. Mutants ate their brains, probably."
"No. If that was it, there'd be chunks of flesh everywhere. It's just... cleanly hollowed. Like someone scooped it out carefully..."
"Ugh... that's worse..."
Touching the corpse, it was rock-hard. No moisture, joints rigor-locked. Mummified in place. He'd heard of mummification in Buddhism and such. Religious ritual?
Tilting his head at the last one, he froze. Not empty—instead, a twitching black mass pulsed inside.
What the fuck?
Aiming cautiously, it erupted toward his face.
"Kieeeek!"
"Fuck!"
He twisted aside. It splattered down with a wet thud, then skittered across the floor—scritch-scratch—toward the exit. At the door, a hissing shrieeeek, then silence.
"Ha! Haah! What the hell was that!?"
"No idea..."
Patting Yuri's trembling NewTontonMan back as she hyperventilated, Cheol-woo lit up the bisected black thing. Spider-like, eight long legs, head-sized. Green slime oozing as legs curled in. Exoskeleton more like human skin than insect. Front: mouth crammed with tiny teeth. Nothing like known creatures.
"What the fuck is really going on here..."
With Yuri sniffling, he bagged fragments in two black pouches. Best preserve intact for analysis. Lab chimera? Released with the blue drug?
The thought made Yuri's skin crawl.
GeumMyeong Security HQ, president's office.
Kim Sa-jang straightened the fresh printouts and handed them to Park I-sa.
"What do you make of this, Director Park?"
"..."
Intel from overseas agents: satellite photos. Guam: US Navy carrier group launching. Hawaii: ASW gear-loaded transports departing. Chinese ports/bases: PLAN subs massing.
Conclusion? US using the Taiwan Strait incident for massive show of force. China, paranoid, recalled all ships. But was the US really just investigating? Park would bet against it.
"Incident's in Taiwan Strait, but controlling waters off Hong Kong? Obvious ploy. Snatched the sea from China temporarily to sneak cargo or agents in. China can still watch from air, so not surface ships... subs, probably."
"Same read as me. Suspect US agents already in Hong Kong, maybe more inserted amid the chaos."
"And?"
Why tell me? Up top's already decided—why confirm with me?
An ominous chill crept over Park.
"Team 2's in Hong Kong, right?"
"Yes, but comms dead. They went pre-chaos on another op."
"Smart kids. If shit hit the fan, they're scheming results to get out."
Unarmed? Too busy surviving. Who works unpaid overtime for loyalty? Results get snatched by brass anyway.
Kim Sa-jang's mindset was stuck in the '90s.
"Frankly, probably wiped. If not, scrambling to live—not achieving jack. No prep..."
"Then they need backup?"
"...?"
"Go yourself. Rescue the team, confirm if Min Cheol-woo and Oriental Shipping's Han Si-yeon are there."
Ah, fuck? Me, in person? With managers and chiefs below, director-level me to the field?
Park was stunned. He'd mediated the DongYang Department Store near-disaster truce—now they wanted to grind him in ops.
"If both are there, what then?"
"Why ask me? You figure it. Suitably. In the company's interest. You know—exec's will is company will."
"..."
Suitably, figure it, company interest... Translation: Take all the blame if it goes tits up. Heavy burden already, chest tight, wanted to slap Kim's face, yank Yu Sil-jang's hair—but was it unfair? Not really. Hong Kong comms blackout. Critical decisions inside, no external contact. Logical to send an exec, not grunts.
But why him among execs? Infuriating, no excuse to refuse.
"...Understood."
"If it's too tough, say so. Can send Yu Sil-jang and Team 1 too—"
"I'll handle it. Time-sensitive—I'll assemble and deploy ASAP."
Park turned and left. Flip side: opportunity. In Hong Kong, he owned risks and rewards. Rescue + snag Min Cheol-woo + Han Si-yeon? High difficulty, but one win = jackpot. Think positive.
"Hey, prep a boat to Hong Kong."
[No boats to Hong Kong, Director.]
"Who doesn't know that, asshole? Charter one—make a route."
[Even chartered, no takers. Blockade lifted, but path's hell. Taiwan Strait sinkings unresolved—now similar off southern Taiwan. Bypass Taiwan or through strait? All avoid it.]
Fuck. Park sighed skyward. Chinese sub games or what? Taiwan area was fucked. China denying involvement, but logistics through Taiwan severed, effectively blockaded. Cui bono? China benefits. Detour meant double transit time.
"No plane landings?"
[Airport's chaos. Rumor mill, though.]
"What rumor?"
[Gov abandoned airport; mercs cleared it, charging for ops. Check it?]
"Fuck off. Land among those psychos? They'd slaughter us, hijack the plane—no shock."
[Then landlocked—only HALO from over Hong Kong—]
"Dig deeper on the rumor. User reviews, anything."
[Yes, sir.]
Risks skyrocketed. Land at rogue merc airport, op in world's deadliest city, extract. Lose team and plane? Plausible. Just for stranded Team 2? Waste. Even + Han Si-yeon? Meh. Need Min Cheol-woo secured or Han kidnapped for lab access—at minimum.
"Fuck, been ages..."
Park gripped his pistol—hand trembling. Surgery side-effect essential tremor since quitting guns. Hong Kong? Pistol-less was liability. Sighing, he dialed overseas. Time for vet-of-vets.