Salvation
The white is the moon, and the black is the night. Is there ever a time when beasts do not live their lives to the fullest? Whether day or night, they wander through the persistent turbidity, eyes fixed only on what lies ahead. Indeed, the spire of corruption is no mere decoration.
[Shut up. You're messing up the data feed.]
I snapped at Eileen through the comms for spouting nonsense and stepped out of the elevator. The first thing that greeted me was a long, hollow corridor stretching deep into the building. Looking down past the railing revealed a chaotic tangle of wiring and pipes clinging to the ceiling of the mid-level floor below. On the walls—not the railings—hung rusted doors and faded signs. Neon lights made the hallway bright, but they couldn't hide the filthy stains of grime beneath. At a glance, the place reeked of a stale, sour stench. Still, it wasn't so bad that I couldn't work in it, so I started the search right away.
The corridor, easily twenty meters long, was packed with junkies and drunks. Most were completely out of it, so they barely reacted to my presence. The few who still had their wits turned their eyes away the moment they saw the weapons strapped to my arms. Even so, there were a few so deep in their highs they couldn't tell reality from fantasy, leering at me with hazy, flirtatious glances. When that happened, I'd quietly raise my right arm's battle rifle, and the people nearby would drag them away. Thanks to that, I managed to push quite deep without any major trouble.
'Let's start here, then.'
Searches always begin with the suspicious spots. Going through everything one by one would take forever. I picked this room because there were suspiciously few people around it. No piles of trash giving off a foul odor, no ominous bloodstains or violent marks. The sign didn't hint at anything strange either, which only made the emptiness feel more off. I knocked loudly on the door and took a step back. To avoid raising unnecessary alarm, I hid my weapon-laden arms behind me. It was like an ostrich burying its head in the sand, but better than waving them around openly.
After a short wait, the doorknob at eye level rattled, and someone stepped out.
"Who the hell is it this time?! I told you bastards not to bother me!"
He immediately pointed his gun into thin air and started yelling, spit flying everywhere. The moment he stepped out of the room, a rotting stench rolled out with him. Through the gap between his legs, I caught a glimpse of the scene inside and immediately regretted it. It was not a pretty sight.
'Completely out of his mind. Can't even control his own shit and piss.'
So that's why there were no people around. Just one severe addict scaring everyone off. He glared into empty space, screaming at the top of his lungs, until he finally noticed me below him and lowered his gun.
"Huh? The fuck are you, you little shit?! You think I'm easy?! Do I look easy to you?!"
I kicked the man, who was spewing nonsense in a hoarse voice, and sent him tumbling back into the room. Once inside, he flailed at the air, making guttural noises, then suddenly sprang up and aimed his gun at me again. The barrel shook wildly in every direction; even if he fired, there was no way he'd hit me in that state. Disgusted by the pathetic display, I slammed the door shut right in his face.
When I looked around, a few eyes had turned our way, but they quickly went back to their own business.
'Honestly...'
The man had been screaming so wildly that sticky spit had landed on my cheek. I wiped it off, frowning at the smell.
I paused for a moment before answering.
I didn't bother replying and moved straight to the next room. It was unpleasant, sure, but nothing I couldn't handle. I'd faced far worse situations hundreds—thousands—of times. There was no way a single junkie would break me. I steadied my mind and resumed the search.
How much time had passed? It felt like I'd already spent nearly thirty minutes in this disgusting place. Since it was an unlicensed zone, I'd seen all kinds of ugly scenes during the investigation. A macho guy in a pink dress speaking in a nasal voice was practically polite by comparison. There were people who tried to grab my face and shove a cigarette butt in my mouth, and others who slyly grabbed my shoulder to drag me into their rooms. If I'd done a proper preliminary investigation, maybe I could've avoided it, but doing it in person like this made those encounters unavoidable. Of course, most attempts ended there. The ones still in their right minds backed off at the sight of my gun, and the ones high on drugs collapsed on their own. Still, the accumulated fatigue wasn't just for show. Before checking the next room, a sigh escaped me.
I was searching from the bottom of the upper floors while Eileen worked from the very top. It had worked out nicely. I continued to the next floor with peace of mind. This level was relatively cleaner than the one below, though that was only in comparison. The stale smell was still just as strong. I stepped out of the elevator and scanned for suspicious rooms, but after a quick look down the corridor, I could only tilt my head in confusion.
'Nothing looks off.'
The cleanliness of the rooms was consistent, and there were no particularly noticeable clusters of people. From one end of the corridor to the other, everything was perfectly average.
'Guess I have to check every single one from the start.'
A sigh already slipped out. But blindly searching didn't seem smart either, so I decided to observe a little more carefully. Like most of the floors so far, the corridor was filled with junkies and drunks. Strangely, though, I didn't catch the usual unpleasant stench from them. Maybe because this floor was cleaner? I moved deeper into the hallway, examining my surroundings. I checked the dust piled near the doors, the handprints on the signs. I listened discreetly, focusing on any sounds coming from inside the rooms.
'The soundproofing is solid, huh.'
They were cheap metal doors, yet no noise leaked out. This floor seemed to have unusually good insulation.
'......'
A sense of déjà vu. If I had to name it, that's what it felt like. There are many causes of déjà vu. I couldn't list them all, but for example: an overly quiet corridor. Rooms that were uncomfortably standardized and uniformly filthy. People distributed in an unnaturally intentional way. All of it combined to create a bizarre sense of déjà vu across the entire floor.
And for me, that was more than enough.
I immediately spun around and aimed my gun at the head of the nearest junkie.
Bang!
Before he could even register it, his head exploded. At the same time, every junkie and drunk scattered throughout the corridor pulled firearms from their clothes. I dove behind the nearest cover. Gunshots erupted from all directions, and the hallway instantly turned into a battlefield. So the entire floor had been crawling with the target's disguised bodyguards.
I yanked the charging handle next to the battle rifle, loading a round into the grenade launcher. Then I poked my arm out from cover and fired toward the positions I'd memorized before taking shelter.
Boom!
The corridor shook, raining dust from every corner. The massive explosion echoed through the empty spaces of the building. White smoke billowed from the impact points. The people nearby had lost limbs, and the thick cloud of dust now blocked some of the line of sight. Just as I was about to leave cover, someone appeared right in front of me—a woman holding a standard corporate submachine gun. The moment she saw me, she tried to pull the trigger. But I was faster. I filled her face with lead.
Bang.
The buckshot from my left arm's shotgun blew her head clean off. The instant she fell, I heard the distinctive clatter of something rolling. Without hesitation, I threw myself out of cover. Right where I'd been standing, an explosion went off. The grenade's power was impressive—maybe even more so in such a confined space. I shook off the shock and continued the firefight. A couple of bullets in the body were nothing to me.
I kept moving between evasion and cover, taking them down one by one. With enemies everywhere, it turned into a chaotic melee. At some point during the fierce gunfight, an oddly bright and cheerful melody rang out. The elevator at the far end of the corridor had arrived.
With a heavy clunk, the doors opened and Eileen stepped out. Wearing that ridiculous bird-head gas mask, she immediately tossed a smoke grenade and charged into the hallway. Sounds of hand-to-hand combat erupted from within the smoke, and soon broken bodies came flying out. Between the bullets fired into the smoke came precise, lethal counterattacks. Her momentum was ferocious. In the end, the enemy was forced onto the defensive. They had numbers, but their quality couldn't match ours. The outcome was decided.
"Hoo..."
We must have fought nonstop for about five minutes. The deafening gunfire finally died down. The corridor was clear. Eileen checked the chamber of her pistol and spoke.
"Security will be here soon after hearing all that noise. They're nobodies, but let's finish up quick before they become a hassle."
After clearing the hallway, we started smashing open every door on the floor and searching inside. Every room we opened was empty. It looked like the target had taken over the entire level. Once we confirmed a room was empty, we'd immediately shoot the next door open to keep the pace as fast as possible. By the time I'd smashed open the eighth room this way—
Rat-tat-tat!
A sudden burst of machine gun fire scraped across the wall from the opposite side of the corridor. Bright tracer rounds streaked through the air, carving deep scars into the far wall. Looked like Eileen had found the room where the target was hiding. I rushed over.
"They're really pouring out. Looks like there are about five more inside."
I nodded and gently pushed her aside. Taking cover where she'd been standing, I extended just my arm and aimed into the room. Then—
Boom.
The grenade launcher fired, and the machine gun fell silent. Only faint groans leaked out from inside the room. At last, the once-chaotic corridor grew quiet.