Cataclysm (3)
Republic of Korea. Seoul Special City. The downtown area had devolved into utter chaos, with roads completely clogged and blaring horns echoing from every direction. There was no sign of the gridlock easing anytime soon. Yu Sil-jang, who had been frantically tapping at her phone, slammed her foot into the driver's seat.
"Fuck! No goddamn signal. Hey! Just plow through!"
"Plow through? What the—"
"Just ram 'em! I'll take the heat!"
"Understood, Ma'am."
With a thunderous roar, the armored vehicle slowly accelerated. As drivers gawked in confusion, it wedged into the narrow gaps between cars and started shoving them aside. Amid the crashing and shattering of glass, the vehicle barreled down the road unimpeded. Only then did Yu Sil-jang burst into manic laughter—kyahaha.
Savoring the screams from outside, a strange peace settled in one corner of her mind.
"Ah. The world's such a fucking mess."
Every time she glanced at the northern sky, she couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from twitching upward in a creepy grin.
After crushing the Triad, the Yakuza, and even those new Oriental Group chinks muscling in, what the hell was Team 1 supposed to do domestically? Sure, the rookie's big jailbreak had kept things entertaining for a bit, but then the bastard fled overseas, leaving the rest to twiddle their thumbs under Park I-sa in a lame-ass ending. She'd been seriously considering bypassing Chairman Myeong Hoe-jang to create her own "work," when bam—perfect timing. The world went to shit.
A level of chaos incomparable to any war, unprecedented in history. For a PMC that thrived on disorder, it was a dream come true.
Before long, the armored vehicle pulled up to the GeumMyeong Group headquarters. Yu Sil-jang leaped out and rushed to the office.
"Boss! You okay?"
"Jesus, you scared me. Thought that armored truck plowing in meant they were coming for me."
"Who the hell in Korea would come for you? I've already stomped 'em all flat."
"..."
Kim Hoe-jang swallowed the rest—you bitch, you—barely holding it back. Intellectually, he knew she was the type who'd stay loyal as long as he kept feeding her prey to hunt, no backstabbing worries there. But emotionally? Trusting her was a whole other story. That creepy smile of hers still gave him chills after decades.
"And I'm not 'boss' anymore."
"Right, right. Anyway, did you see it? The footage from Manchuria."
"Yeah."
"What do you think?"
"What else? It's blue drug mutation symptoms, plain as day."
The nearest rift to Korea was a hole at 10,000 meters over Manchuria. Naturally, the first reactions came from Chinese Manchuria. Videos flooding in from Yanbian and Jilin Province captured those familiar red eyes. Thousands of mutants were laying waste to the cities.
The fact that the military and police hadn't contained it suggested simultaneous outbreaks across a wide area. The conclusion was obvious.
"So, blue drug's raining down from the sky, right?"
Blue drug—or its precursor—was pouring from the rift, dispersing into Earth's atmosphere. For now, it was limited to Manchuria, but once the north winds carried it down from 10,000 meters, Korea wouldn't be safe. It was only a matter of time before the country's 50 million citizens turned into mutants, turning the place into a hellhole rivaling Hong Kong.
Could the military and police control that? No fucking way. Protecting even the 500,000-strong army from contaminated air was impossible. The troops meant to control the situation would mutate too.
"Stockpile gas masks, regular masks, air filters—whatever you can. Buy factories on credit if you have to. Protect our employees first, then sell the surplus if the government pressures us."
"Huh? Boss, what're you talking about?"
"...?"
Yu Sil-jang tilted her head, eyes narrowing suspiciously. Here she goes again—what insane shit this time? Kim Hoe-jang hesitated, half-expecting madness, half-curious.
"Why protect the employees? Just let 'em be—they'll upgrade themselves."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"Think about it. The weaklings turn into mutants anyway. The survivors always come out with some freak ability. Leave 'em alone, and the useless ones weed themselves out, leaving only the strong. Why pass that up?"
"..."
Kim Hoe-jang's face went blank. It was even crazier than he'd imagined. Embrace the inevitable? Sounded like bullshit, but...
"Huh. Maybe you're right?"
"Exactly! It's a blessing for humanity, Boss! A little pain, and we get an army of elite soldiers for free. That pricey blue drug falling from the sky gratis!"
"Uh...?"
Chewing it over, it actually started sounding plausible.
Even on a decent-sized cruising yacht, open-ocean sailing was no picnic. Storms slowed them with shifting winds, and dead calms were just as bad. They'd planned to reach Australia using only half their fuel, but battling storms and doldrums had burned through more than expected.
Theoretically, the yacht could sail without fuel, but no wind meant endless waiting, and docking would be a nightmare. Better to keep at least half full for safety.
"We need to refuel soon," Cheol-woo calculated.
No need to detour, though. The route to Australia passed the Philippine islands anyway—just hit any port on the way.
"Whew... Food's readyyy..."
Mi-young emerged wearing a gas mask to signal them. Ever since the global mutant outbreak videos, he'd made her keep it on outdoors.
Cheol-woo was immune after inhaling blue drug before, and Yuri was superhuman enough not to mutate. But Mi-young? She'd turn red-eyed in a heartbeat.
In Hong Kong, tap water was the only worry, but now blue drug was airborne. Outdoors meant masks. Luckily, the yacht's biochemical filtration system let them ditch them inside safely.
"What the hell is this?"
"F-Food..."
"This fit for humans?"
Inspecting it, Cheol-woo and Yuri's faces turned grim. She'd made thin rice gruel from who-knows-what. Edible?
Under Cheol-woo's glare, Mi-young shrank into the corner. You told me to make filling, tasty meals with minimal rations! She wanted to snap back but couldn't muster the words.
"What? Why's this so good?"
"Small portion, but damn filling?"
A few spoonfuls in, their expressions brightened. It looked like vomit, but tasted fine. No rice, yet the texture mimicked porridge perfectly.
"What's in this?"
"Hardtack... and a bit of soup powder..."
Hardtack? That rock-hard, mouth-drying abomination? Unthinkable to eat. Turning surplus into a meal? Cheol-woo mentally patted himself on the back for recruiting her.
"Hold up."
A blaring alarm shattered the moment. Cheol-woo spotted something on radar and rushed to the deck.
An archipelago in the distance. And surrounding it, a rainbow of ships packing the horizon.
Cheol-woo frowned. Needed fuel here, but if it was all sold out?
"Whoa, tons of ships. Wanna raid a container ship? Bet it's loaded with fuel."
"..."
"What? Why the stare?"
"You a practicing pirate or something?"
Ridiculous. Sis talking like swiping fuel was picking fruit. Cheol-woo ignored her and scanned for a port.
He'd considered raiding, but most ships were adrift, fuel-less hulks. Any with fuel left? Pirates would've hit them already—or they'd have heavy escorts. No point starting a firefight and drawing heat. Might piss off a GeumMyeong or Oriental Group-level corp by mistake.
"Hey, Cheol-woo. Someone's coming."
Chug-chug-chug—a dozen small boats raced toward them from behind.
Ah—pirates? A smile crept across Cheol-woo's lips. Those guys? Perfect for looting, no blowback.