WRYYYY! – Raiders from the Stars
WRYYYYYYYYYYYYY――!!
………… The alarm barely blared three times before Karen sprang into action. She yanked the remote from beside the sofa cushion and jabbed three buttons in rapid succession. Click, click, click. Thin but sturdy metal shutters slid down over the windows from outside, completely blocking the view. At the same time, the living room lights dimmed to their lowest setting, and the TV's ear-splitting alarm toned down to a mere white noise.
Ooh, fancy apartment perks, huh.
In the now-sealed living room, Karen wrapped her arms around my shoulders and patted me soothingly. "It's okay. Nothing to worry about."
Hmm, the voice of an adult comforting a scared kid. But she's a little anxious herself.
"……As you know, skirmishes happen all the time. Nikola and Microgenics don't get along. Border disputes pop up three or four times a month."
Huh. Three or four times a month? The corporate nations of the American continent live on a real knife's edge.
Karen's fingers brushed my hair back. "This one's just happening right in the heart of Washington, that's all. But it'll be fine."
She raised the remote and flipped channels, skipping past the alarm broadcast until she landed on a drone feed showing the Washington skyline. The moment the screen switched, it revealed…
A massive shape blanketing the skies over Washington. At first glance, it looked like thick clouds, but clouds don't glow.
Aah, an aerial carrier. Blue, white, and red lights flash across its hull, and heat waves ripple from below, warping the city lights. That's a big one. Several times larger than Will Bates's airship.
"An aerial carrier…? Nikola doesn't use those. They scrapped massive ships like that ages ago—they're just flying targets… Where the hell did this come from?"
Karen doesn't know. Makes sense; she's a civilian, so her info has limits. But I do. That's a Korean aerial carrier. I caught it on the news a few times while lounging at the Threat Management Agency.
But why's a Korean carrier over Washington? Retaliation for Will Bates's VIP kidnapping attempt at Seoul's Grand Arc?
Before the question could fade, the carrier's underbelly hatches snapped open in unison. Red emergency lights strobed inside the hangars, and humanoid shapes poured out between them.
Two legs, two arms. Heat ray emitters on the arms, missile pylons on the shoulders, booster units on the backs. Mirae Group's weapon: Heracles-33.
The ones the Threat Management Agency deployed against Will Bates's airship. They performed well against the drone squadrons back then. Using them again, huh.
Hundreds of Heracles-33s and thousands of interceptor drones. The two air units clashed. Washington's night sky lit up with heat rays and tracer rounds.
Like the fireworks from the Seoul airship raid, but dozens of times bigger.
The little kids in my mental world pressed their faces against the windowless wall, chattering excitedly.
But here's the thing. Karen said aerial carriers were scrapped as flying targets, yet this one's holding its own.
Fair point. But honestly, giant ships in the sky have too many counters, even to me. Super expensive, cool, and full of romance, sure.
Karen flipped channels. The next screen showed—fiery meteors plummeting from the sky. Not one or two, but hundreds raining down like a meteor shower.
Orbital strike.
"……Stella Link."
Karen muttered, her face far more tense now.
Korea's aerial carrier. Nikola's Stella Link drop pods. Both hitting Washington at once. What a coincidence.
Did Korea and Nikola form a temporary alliance or something?
Glasses Kid unfurled a world map on the chalkboard in my mind. The American continent was divvied up: Microgenics, Nikola, Feistagram, Closed AI, and other corporate states.
True. Nikola's motives are murky, but they're trading partners. Microgenics straight-up showed ambition to dominate Korea.
Nikola and Microgenics: long-time enemies. Korea and Microgenics: fresh foes. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Human diplomacy—complicated yet surprisingly straightforward.
Click. Karen shut off the TV. She bolted to the bedroom, yanked open a drawer, and tucked a loaded pistol into her waistband.
"There's a bunker nearby. It'll be packed and chaotic, but way safer than up here. Let's go."
Aw. I wanted to watch more. Korean carriers and drop pods—scales you don't see back home. Prime entertainment.
I pouted. "Not the time for that."
Karen grabbed my hand and pulled. Strong for a woman. No choice, then. First time she's this urgent.
Reluctantly, I let her lead me out the door. Past the first-floor lobby, through the main entrance—and the night air hit hard. Mixed with unfamiliar smells: burned rubber, acrid gunpowder.
Sirens wailed in the distance, helicopter rotors thrummed overhead. Not full pandemonium yet, but plenty of people rushing to destinations: driving, running, carrying kids. All heading underground. The uniform direction felt eerie.
"……Hurry."
As Karen gripped my hand to cross the avenue—
The sky roared. For real.
A piercing sonic boom stabbed my eardrums. Looking up, a metal capsule glowed cherry-red from atmospheric friction, plummeting down.
The drop pod from TV. Heading straight for the road we were about to cross.
"Danger!"
Karen yanked me into a hug and dove toward the building wall. Right after—
KABOOOOOM———!!
The drop pod's horrific impact flipped the asphalt like a tsunami. Parked sedans crumpled like paper and flew. Dirt and concrete chunks hailed down.
Dust settled, revealing a massive crater in the road's center. And at its heart: the freshly descended drop pod, embedded.
Hiss. The front hatch vented steam and swung open. Six burly figures burst out, whooping triumphantly.
"UOOOOOH!!"
"KYYAAHOO!!"
"WRYYYYYYYYYYY——!!"
Hmm. Straight out of a manga—high-tech barbarians. Like the ones Lee Gyu-rin showed me. Post-apoc mohawks roaming wastelands, pillaging and slaughtering.
Spot-on match. Face-wise, at least. But these guys outclass the leather-clad manga versions. Clad in brutishly thick power suits.
Though maintenance looks iffy. Rusty plates patched everywhere, black smoke belching from back vents. Weapons all over: chainsaws, autocannons, wrist guns—mismatched.
So every drop pod in Washington unloads these guys?
Whoa. Washington's getting looted by these psychos right now. Manga has post-apoc saviors or emperors to fight 'em. Our world? No such luck.
What's gonna happen to Washington?
"Hide first!"
Karen shoved my head down roughly. We dropped behind a low wall. Cheers erupted from beyond it. Chainsaw whines mixed with wrist gun bursts.
I sneaked a peek over the wall. The street's hell unfolded.
Six mohawked power suits prowled the road. One spotted a straggler who missed the bunker and grinned, aiming his wrist gun.
Bang. The pajama guy's shoulder exploded. He screamed, tumbling to the ground.
But the mohawk didn't finish him. One more shot would've done it—he held back on purpose.
"Heeheehee, run! Crawl away if you can!"
He's laughing. Genuinely thrilled watching the guy drag himself, trailing blood.
Bang, bang. More shots elsewhere. A couple hiding behind a car got found. Wrist gun punched through the chassis, shredding their legs. A mohawk chased the crawling woman and revved his chainsaw down.
Screams layered and echoed. The street became one massive pit of agony.
A bitter tang burned my tongue. Washington's citizens' terror. Essence of hundreds, thousands screaming at once, scorching my taste buds.
First massacre I've witnessed in this body.
But amid the bitterness, a cloying sweetness intrudes. From the mohawk who bisected the woman with his chainsaw. The one hosing a building with his autocannon dual-wield.
That's their emotions. Pure murderers. Others' pain, death, destruction—their goal and fun.
A few little kids covered their mouths and turned away. Glasses Kid, doctor-garb kid, sharp-eyed kid—all grim-faced.
The ones yapping about eating humans or the planet are empathizing now. Growth, I guess.
While observing the carnage, I slipped up. Locked eyes with the mohawk who'd just gleefully bisected the woman.
"Oh? Showing yourself? What a good girl——?"
He leered, shambling this way in his ragged power suit.
"Fuck ya, rip ya in half? Feeling good today—your choice——huh?"
He raised his chainsaw arm showily, deliberately stomping the ground as he approached slowly.
Hmm, trying to scare me. Now, what to do.