A Maze of Roots
JL got out of the car, hauling a large bag with him. The thing was easily twice my size, so I caught myself staring at it without meaning to. But I quickly lost interest and turned my gaze toward the slum spreading out before us. Dilapidated buildings twisted together like a maze, stretching all the way to the horizon. Behind the road where the car had stopped lay a deep artificial canyon—one that would allow for a long, uninterrupted freefall. It was astonishing that humans had built all of this. The ground beneath our feet, the sewers far below—every inch was a product of human civilization. Of course, it had long since become a breeding ground for corruption far beyond anyone’s control.
Even after stepping out of the vehicle, we remained frozen for a while. One careless step could mean getting lost in ways we might never recover from. Most slums worked like that. They expanded wildly according to the residents’ needs and whims, without permits or planning. Not a trace remained of the orderly design the state had originally laid out. It was like tree roots. By the time you realized what was happening, you’d already sunk so deep you no longer knew the way back. You might never escape. You might simply be declared missing.
These slums demanded caution not only because of their chaotic layout but because of the people who lived in them. Fortunately, I had a way to navigate even this kind of labyrinth.
“JL, hold me up for a second.”
He didn’t answer. He simply stared at me. I hadn’t expected a reply anyway, so I leaned my weight against him. The moment my body touched his, JL startled so hard it was almost comical. Before he could snap out of it and shove me away, I activated the scan implant.
Crackle.
Sparks jumped near my eyes and ears as the load hit my system. My sense of balance vanished instantly; my body staggered. But in exchange, I drank in data on every human, every closed-circuit camera, and every electronic device in the vicinity. It really was a slum—far too many objects crammed into too small an area.
“……”
JL didn’t push me away while I staggered and bled from my eyes. Thanks to that, when I finally straightened up, I wasn’t tasting the filthy slum floor.
The moment my balance returned, I shared what I had learned.
“There’s a sector with an unusual number of unauthorized closed-circuit cameras. A lot of combat-type implants are clustered in the same area.”
“You mean a lot of people with combat implants are gathered there?”
I nodded, then connected the firearm slung across my back to the adapters on my arm and spine. This time I had brought only the essentials to keep the connection from failing mid-fight. When JL saw me lift my shirt to seat the adapter, the look on his face defied description. It seemed blank at first glance, but I didn’t miss the way his eyebrows twisted with meaning.
I left him to his thoughts and took the lead, heading for the objective. Behind me came the sound of JL slowly dragging that heavy bag. The slum streets looked almost deserted. But that was only on the surface. The crooked alleys and the interiors of the buildings were packed with people like insects in a hive. The unpleasant stares I felt from the shadows were definitely not imaginary.
We moved with every muscle tight, ready for anything this dangerous place might throw at us. After picking our way through the maze for roughly thirty minutes, we finally reached our destination.
I crouched in a narrow alley nearby and peered out. Sure enough, two guards stood chatting, weapons in hand. Only two were visible, but the building behind them almost certainly held many more. Walking in the front door would be suicide. Burning the entire structure from outside was possible, but that risked damaging the very materials we had come to secure. We needed a cleaner, safer solution.
While I weighed our options, I heard rustling behind me. JL had slipped into the alley after me. He began pulling equipment from the oversized bag—a large-caliber sniper rifle, various ultra-long-range weapons. More and more gear kept coming. Carrying all of it at once looked nearly impossible.
JL must have felt my stare. “I don’t like close-quarters combat,” he said. “Sorry, but it looks like you’ll have to go in and handle them yourself.”
I looked at his left eye—the one clouded over and blind. With only one working eye, his depth perception would be shot. Close combat would be a nightmare for him. I nodded reluctantly.
“Fine. I’ll go in. Feed me enemy positions and cover me from out here.”
“Isn’t that a good thing for you? Beats cooperating with a comrade in a way that doesn’t suit you at all.”
“Maybe.”
Maybe my lack of reaction to his sarcasm threw him off. I sensed a flicker of unease from him. I picked up a suitable handheld weapon from his collection—a large-caliber automatic shotgun. I had learned the hard way while working with Eileen that adapter-mounted weapons couldn’t be aimed precisely; accuracy suffered. So I needed at least one gun I could hold and aim properly.
Once I finished my preparations and stepped out of the alley, JL grabbed his gear and hurried to his own position. We split off in opposite directions.
I watched the two guards from a blind spot for a while, then revised my plan.
A direct assault won’t work here.
My body was in no condition for that. It had grown so soft that even a clumsy bare-fisted blow might crush it. A frontal fight held no advantage. I needed an environment that favored me.
It was the most basic tactic, but I had never used it while I was a Hound. Simply being a Hound had always placed me above everyone else. Now I had to adapt my methods to account for this weakened shell.
I pulled back the foot that had been ready to charge and altered course. I slipped into cover where the guards couldn’t see me, then climbed the exterior pipes and fixtures with careful, fluid movements. My small frame and dark clothing helped me stay hidden. I did slip once on a pipe and drew one guard’s attention, but I managed to conceal myself before he spotted me.
After considerable effort, I reached the spot directly above their heads without being detected. Covered in grime, I balanced on the edge of an outdoor unit and looked down at the crowns of their skulls.
As quietly as possible.
All my firearms were large-caliber and explosive. Using any of them now would cause an immediate uproar. I adjusted my grip on the shotgun, holding it by the stock like a club. After one deep breath, I dropped straight onto the head of the nearest unlucky bastard.
“Keuk!”
The skull of the slacking guard burst under the shotgun’s mass and momentum. The second man, who had been daydreaming beside him, turned at the sound. By the time our eyes met, my bayonet was already buried in his throat.
He couldn’t even scream properly. Blood fountained from his neck as he toppled backward.
“Huu.”
I wiped the blood from my cheek and moved deeper into the building. The enemy still hadn’t realized we were here.
Not only the alleys but the building’s interior was a maze as well. Illegal expansions and connections had created corridors where none should exist and doors in impossible places. Holes even riddled the ceiling like murder-holes in an ancient siege fortress, just wide enough for a gun barrel to poke through.
I navigated the maze-like stronghold with extreme care. Closed-circuit cameras watched every corner; simply disabling them for a few moments took real effort.
“Ugh.”
It was still early, yet my whole body had begun to sting. I wiped the bloody tears clouding my vision with my sleeve. After a deep breath, I burst around the corner where voices echoed.
The lone guard never stood a chance. He became a corpse before he could react. I glanced toward a window leading to another building, confirmed it was clear, and sprinted across the hallway.
That was when I found a room that looked like a storage warehouse. As expected, another guard stood watch nearby. Before entering, I held my breath and crept up behind him. When I was close enough, I wrapped my arm around his neck and leaped upward before he could turn. I clamped a hand over his mouth to silence any scream and drove my bayonet into his throat again and again.
Once every nearby threat had been neutralized, I finally examined the warehouse.
No response came from the other side.
I walked slowly through the room, examining the “materials” wrapped in white packaging. Lansel’s logo was stamped boldly across every container. After a moment, I let out a quiet, hollow laugh and muttered to myself.
“‘Materials,’ my ass…”
A torn box had spilled several test tubes. I checked the ingredient list. Familiar chemical compounds filled the label in dense rows.
“Synthetic drugs.”
Whether drugs were morally bad or not didn’t matter. These people were a corporation. If consumers wanted something, the company would satisfy that desire without a second thought.