Hand of Salvation? After Subduing the Three Traitors
After taking down the three traitors, I tried to check on the hooded agent who should have been guarding the front door outside, but he was already gone. Well, our position's been compromised anyway, so no point worrying about it. And if we don't have to stress about giving away our location, that means we don't need to hold back on our own functions either.
I stowed the album back inside my body and said to Bell, who was closing the abdominal armor plating. "Since we're already busted, let's turn the radar back on. How many enemies are lurking nearby?"
"Anastasis channels show 97, Elson 24, and about 356 unidentified. Of those, 273 civilians unrelated to this seem to be rapidly evacuating the area," Bell replied instantly. She'd clearly been assessing the situation the moment things went south.
To think even the family I trusted had betrayed me—it hurt worse than just a bone-deep ache. It felt like I'd lost everything. All I had left now was my bodyguard Bell, a bit of gold and securities, the earldom title I'd inherit, tens of millions in pounds from my personal accounts plus a black card, the mansion in South Yorkshire, and the family properties managed by the trust foundation.
Even though I'd turned off the taste buds earlier, my mouth still tasted bitter.
"A trap this elaborate means there are encirclement teams on the outskirts beyond the detected numbers nearby, right? And since we're near the City, reinforcements will keep pouring in fast..."
"Yes. But young master, even Pinocchio swallowed by a whale had a way out. What lesson might we draw from that?"
"Most problems can be solved by burning them? If we've got enough firepower to make the whale spit us back out, yeah."
And in that department, Bell wasn't Pinocchio—she was more like Buratino. Not Tolstoy's wooden puppet, but the old Russian flamethrower vehicle from a bygone era. The road ahead looked bleak, but I couldn't end this journey I'd just started by sitting around waiting to get caught. Bell was fine, and this place, shabby as it was, had been a decent forward base, stocked with plenty of gear worth grabbing.
And if it really came down to it... I could always use the Heart for one last blaze of glory. We had a solid foundation to charge into the encirclement and go down fighting.
But first, I had to squeeze out every bit of info I could. There was still a source for more intel.
"Bell, you got the electrical discharge module equipped?"
"Yes, from low-power massage settings to full EV battery overload explosions—fine-tuned control available. What should I blow up?"
"Sometimes it's terrifying how people think you're so prim and proper. No explosions. Dial it down to defibrillator level."
"Defibrillator? May I ask your intended use?"
I pointed to my cousin—the one passed out in the corner of the living room, reeking of smoke and charred meat.
"Wake up Harold and make him spill everything he knows. Any info on the encirclement would be gold."
"Understood. Good thing the second use is for revival."
'Second use'? So it wasn't a leak—it was deliberate shocking. I hoped she hadn't done it as payback for Uncle calling her my girlfriend.
"Then, let's begin."
Bell approached Harold's slumped form like a surgeon entering the OR, hands raised. She knelt beside him, sparks leaping from her stacked palms as she thrust her arms straight toward his heart.
But my loyal bodyguard couldn't complete the defibrillation. Her pupils dilated in confusion at the unexpected turn, and I was just as shocked. Harold, who I'd thought was out cold, suddenly moved and grabbed her wrist.
****
My traitorous uncle Harold had woken up abruptly from his stupor. I'd figured brain trauma and electrocution had him barely clinging to life, but apparently not. Had he faked it?
Gripping Bell's wrist, he slowly raised his upper body, staring straight at me with his glowing blue cybernetic eye. I immediately drew the pistol I'd grabbed from Dan's room and aimed it at him. Bell shook off his grip in an instant, deploying the blade from her left forearm and pressing it to his thick neck.
But Harold just grinned, unperturbed by the blade at his throat. He alternated glances between me and Bell before slowly opening his mouth.
I watched his lips part in the heavy silence, feeling a chill like cold sweat trickling down my back.
"Ah-oo-ha-oo eh-o-eh ha-o-ah."
"?"
Bell and I both flinched in confusion. As we blinked, Harold seemed flustered by his own garbled speech, working his mouth, but no clear words came out.
Bell observed and reported, "Examining his mouth—his tongue has been severed. The cut looks like it was made by teeth."
"Ah, that explains the slurring."
That was why my fist had blood on it. No idea where the tongue chunk rolled off to.
Bell continued, "And young master, this isn't Harold Dudley Wentworth. Signal analysis shows he's unconscious—someone else has hijacked his neural augmentations and is puppeteering his body."
"What? So Anastasis is directly hacking Uncle to move him?"
Bell hesitated slightly. "The frequency pattern is similar... but off. My assessment: a third party is mimicking their signals to intervene."
"Hoo-hee-ho ah-o-ah-bah."
"Even if you say that, we can't understand. Hmm, what now?"
The situation veered off-script, deepening my dilemma. I hadn't imagined some unknown face trying to communicate like this. Ignoring it like spam was tempting, but with flames licking our heels, this was no joke.
Whatever the case, I needed to hear them out—but they couldn't have predicted the tongue situation messing up their medium. I couldn't just connect directly without knowing who.
If only Uncle had a separate voice module... Wait!
I could use something from Dan's room with audio output. Hook it to Harold's body for communication.
****
Even with the speaker hooked up, it spat gibberish at first. Clearly, the tongue wasn't the only issue. I shot back at the self-proclaimed savior with incredulity.
"Even if you say that, without knowing who you are, why you're saving me, how, or what it'll cost, I can't just take your hand."
"Well, if you won't trust me, nothing I can do. But doesn't escaping by grabbing an offered hand look better than getting kidnapped?"
Not quite a take-it-or-leave-it attitude. Though it implied I had no real choice. Better than fake benevolence, but still untrustworthy. And it grated.
I glanced at Bell—her face was stormy. Probably the "kidnapped" word flipped her switch. The blade at Harold's neck trembled faintly.
"Then at least tell me who you are. I need some guess at your motives before letting a kidnapper grab me without resisting."
"You'll learn that once you're out and things settle. Not hiding forever, but I don't want to expose us here."
"Fine, the price then? Don't say it's your hobby to help the needy."
"You'll figure that out when we reveal ourselves. No unfair demands, don't worry—sucking widows and orphans dry is for insurance companies."
I didn't bother arguing if a kidnapper was better than insurers. I could guess their angle anyway. What else would they want but my securities?
As I clamped my mouth shut, wary, the voice chuckled low from the speaker.
"Instead, I can offer a gesture to at least open the door for talk—not full trust, but a starter."
"A gesture."
"Yes. I've already sent someone your way."
"You know the guy you're using as a phone betrayed me, right?"
"Whether to trust him is up to you. Good luck getting out in one piece."
"What do you m—hello?"
A sharp click cut the line. The speaker went silent, and Harold's body slumped unconscious to the floor again.
Bell ground her teeth, pissed at their arrogance. "They just spout whatever and hang up. Rude, mannerless scum."
"Their rudeness makes it seem less like a trap, but the talk was so empty—what are we supposed to do with that?"
"They admitted to kidnapping intent—no need to listen more! Just shameless thieves after our burning house. No reason to play their game."
"Then we stick to the plan. I'll gear up for evac—you keep monitoring the area, Bell."
She nodded, closing her eyes to focus. But she jolted, eyes wide, and shouted urgently.
"Young master! Powerful radio jamming detected nearby. Signs of a broad-spectrum electronic warfare assault!"
****
Boom!BOOM-BOOM!
Chain explosions rocked outside right as Bell yelled, followed by gunfire.
...So the 'saving us' wasn't bullshit?
Someone bold enough to hit Anastasis even near the City. Impressive, but no time to gawk—I rushed to equip the weapons and supplies from here.
First, a bulletproof vest stuffed with magazines and grenades. Main weapon: a bullpup assault rifle straight out of a game. For insurance, I slung Dan's EMP launcher over my shoulder.
"No point getting greedy—it'll just slow us. Bell, time to bail."
"Yes, young master."
She led to the door. "Possible ambush or booby trap outside—I'll open and scout first. Follow once clear."
Creeeak.
No trap right at the entrance. But the moment the door opened, a blood-soaked thug stood there brazenly.
He wore a bizarre helmet projecting an oni face, a man-sized odachi at his waist.
"..."
"Identify yourself, intruder!"
Bell launched at him mid-question, booster-propelled fist tracing a crimson arc.
WHAM!!!
The impact shockwave rattled the whole floor. Cracks spiderwebbed the concrete where they stood, footprints sinking deep.
But the thug stood firm, catching her punch one-handed. Considering the condensed energy in that blow, it was staggering.
As Bell swung her left arm next, he deflected the trajectory with his sheathed blade, then kicked her gut in the opening.
"Ngh...!"
Bell retreated a few steps—no visible damage, but she yielded ground. Stalemate. He raised a hand, signaling no fight.
Then a soft, feminine voice from behind the helmet. One I knew well.
"Still as vigilant as ever, Bellatrix. In this situation, that's a blessing."
She turned to me, black ponytail swaying. Black bodysuit matching her hair, thigh-high boots for a sleek silhouette. Joint guards like armor on elbows and forearms, belts and harnesses crisscrossing her body.
She removed the helmet, revealing a poised beauty with unfathomable deep purple eyes.
I knew her. We'd been close until recently.
My eyes widened in joy and surprise. My revered mentor sheathed her odachi and spoke with dignified warmth.
"Forgive my tardy and shameless arrival. William Wentworth, scion of the house, and my disciple."
