Chapter 67: Civil War (9) - Check This Out - Trucks Everywhere - Suspicious as Hell
A message from Yuri arrived via the messenger app. Then, after a brief loading bar, a video uploaded.
What the hell is this? Min Cheol-woo wondered. He'd figured there might be a lot of trucks, but this was on another level—literally filling the road solid. Trucks packed bumper-to-bumper like a freight train, claiming every lane without a single gap. Even stranger, amid the civilian cars stuck behind this endless convoy, not one driver stepped out to complain or protest.
"What the hell's going on here?"
"Please hold on a moment. I'll check it out right now."
At Cheol-woo's request, the Security Intelligence Agency agent let out a faint sigh and tapped at his keyboard. It looked like nothing out of the ordinary at first glance. Australia had massive trucking companies running fleets like this all the time; there wasn't even a whiff of suspicion. But this was the guy the director himself had ordered full cooperation for—no way he could blow it off. Best to run the query quick and show there was zero issue.
"Trucks from a fertilizer plant in Darwin. They're headed nationwide, so yeah, a ton of them."
"And the cargo?"
"Declared as chemical fertilizer."
"Chemical fertilizer? Dozens of trucks' worth heading to big cities like Sydney or Melbourne?"
The agent shot back a look that said, Why not? Cheol-woo's expression darkened. The logs showed this wasn't a one-day thing—it had been going nonstop for three days straight. A trucking company that'd been idle for lack of work just a month ago suddenly hauling endless loads of chemical fertilizer? Sure, if it were essentials during a crisis, but fertilizer out of nowhere? Shady as hell.
"And here's 200 tons of chemical fertilizer logged at the Canberra branch. I need to check it out."
"Pardon? Check how?"
"I'm gonna storm in and flip the place. See if they're hiding anything. Cover for me."
"Wait, no, uh..."
The agent froze as Cheol-woo grabbed his pistol and headed out without a backward glance. They were mid-planning a full parliamentary purge, and now this guy wanted to raid a trucking depot? What if parasites caught wind and grabbed him? Their strike on the joint session of parliament in ten days would be fucked if the parasites got spooked and canceled.
If sis says it's suspicious, it is.
Cheol-woo didn't overthink it. The agent's explanation made it sound harmless enough, but he trusted Yuri's gut. Video was one thing; being there, smelling the air, feeling the vibe—that was worlds apart. What looked innocuous on screen might reek of something off in person, the kind of hunch words couldn't capture. Yuri was a superhuman monster just like him. Worth betting on.
He loaded up light armament and fired up the truck engine. Straight to the warehouse where 200 tons of fertilizer had supposedly rolled in yesterday. Soon enough, he spotted it: lights out, entrance locked tight with a heavy chain.
"Breaching now."
Boom— The truck smashed through the steel fence. Cheol-woo hopped out, slapped against the entrance, and sliced the chain-wrapped padlock with a cutter.
Clang— Chain dropped. He yanked the door open and slipped inside.
Pitch black, no lights, but his eyes caught rough silhouettes. No signs of life.
What the...? 200 tons, my ass. It's empty.
The warehouse should've been stacked with fertilizer sacks. Instead, nothing. Logs said it all came in here—no outbound records.
Patrolling cautiously corner to corner, his eyes snagged on one lone sack. They'd hauled it all out but dropped this one. He ripped it open, dumped the contents. Familiar color, texture—powder.
Ah, shit.
"These crazy bastards."
He dabbed a bit on his finger, licked. Pupils blew wide. Instinct screamed it: blue drug.
An emergency meeting convened at Secret Intelligence Agency HQ. Late night, Jason and the director sat across from each other. Empty warehouse photos, trucking manifests, blue drug disguised as fertilizer. They pored over it and reached the obvious conclusion.
"Parasite handiwork."
"Damn right."
Source: Darwin fertilizer plant. They'd scraped black dust from rifts, smuggled it into Australia, refined it into mass-produced blue drug.
How'd it slip past? Simple: port controllers and customs agents who'd spotted anomalies were all infected, feeding false reports up the chain. Fooled the agency too.
"The headache's that 200 tons should've been in this warehouse. Gone already."
"Wiped the records clean to dodge tracking... Canberra's just 200 tons. Sydney, Melbourne—way more in the big cities. Realistic to collect it all?"
"Impossible. Even mobilizing both agencies fully."
"Haaah..."
Jason and the director sighed in unison. Australia, the blue-drug-free haven? Now facing a deadlier threat than rift dust: tons of 99% pure blue drug scattered nationwide. A chemical weapon that turned people into mutants with a speck. They could spike reservoirs, mix into bottled water or drinks, spray from pest control trucks. Enough to blanket every city.
"Fuckers. I wondered why they seized state power but kept playing human..."
Control the government, then wipe humans out with armies and bullets? Nah. Too messy. Blue drug? Vaporize 90% of Australia's population overnight. Easy.
"So how do we stop this shit?"
"..."
"..."
Silence blanketed the room. Security Intelligence fully compromised. Secret Intelligence mid-purge of black agents. No way this manpower tracked down and scooped thousands of tons nationwide.
"If we can't stop it, counterattack?"
"That's ten days out. Forgot? To hit the cabinet, we need parliament and courts too—joint session's the play."
"Can't wait ten days. Spraying could start at dawn tomorrow. What're we trusting for that long? We don't need the joint session. Hit the PM and cabinet tomorrow, declare national emergency. Shuts down parliament and courts."
"You're joking. PM's guard alone is fifty-plus. All our fighters are out surgery-ing black agents. How?"
"..."
Is he serious? The director chuckled dryly. Jason looked dead set. Fewer than ten combat-ready agents, storm the PM's office? New suicide method?
"We've got David Min."
"So? What now."
"We've got David Min."
"..."
What the hell does that even mean? Director fumed in frustration. Jason equally baffled—why couldn't he get it? David Min, hello?
"Our convo's not syncing... Fine, say we take the cabinet, declare emergency or martial law. Need military muscle to force parliament and courts. How?"
"David Min."
"I mean—argh. David Min—what? You got a stutter?"
"What more needs saying? David Min. One man fixes it all."
"What the fu—"
The director's voice spiked.
Fight time?
Cheol-woo glanced through the conference room glass. Soundproofed, but the Security Intelligence director was clearly raging.
Yawning, turning away—ding. Phone buzzed.
Helped all day—took Secret HQ, linked with Security, cherry-picked 120 clean fighters, even found the blue drug. Job done, right? Cheol-woo reached for his bag.
Ding.
Anything? That changed things. Cheol-woo set the bag down.