Strange Stirrings
Bram gestured to the communications officer. The soldier hurried over and, quick on the uptake without needing further instruction, pulled up a window on his terminal. The translucent image of the building's interior floated before them, half blank where data collection was still incomplete. It roughly matched the last known location of the biometric signal. Even so, Bram frowned.
Bell leaned in to glance at the map alongside him, then fixed him with a steady gaze. To Bram, that look seemed less like the behavior of a proxy and more like something adorably fitting for her age. But the gaze ended at her scarlet pupils, which gleamed even in the shadows.
Bram refocused on the situation.
"Coordinates match. But it's unsettling. Feels like it just popped up out of nowhere. I doubt the captain made a mistake. Can't Red Eye detect biometric signals too?"
"Yeah."
"Is Lieutenant Ri Siarin there right now?"
Bell stared at the sector with her crimson eyes.
"No human shapes... anywhere."
"Then, in the current situation, we should write off that point."
Bram was cold and pragmatic. A biometric signal without equipment detection would've been one thing, but equipment pinging without a signal? Better to ditch the gear and sweep the vicinity. And if it was bait—which it probably wasn't—rushing into that room was suicide.
Bell slowly turned her gaze back toward the room.
"Probably. But..."
Something nagged at her, unexplainably. It wasn't doubt in her own abilities. They'd never betrayed her before. No, even trusting them fully, she'd lost too much already. The world beyond the barrier remained unclaimed, and the few precious bonds she'd cherished from the start were all gone.
What if...
That "what if" held her back. Bell licked her dry lips.
"Just in case. I'll check it out alone."
"Mm, better to sweep the area first and hit it last."
Bram judged coolly, but Bell stared once more in the signal's direction. Her red eyes seemed to glow. As proven by cases where shielding blocked her powers, Bell's vision didn't pierce everything. Like a bat's echolocation, it was senses manifesting in her eyes. She knew her limits better than anyone. Thick concrete walls made it hard to see beyond. That's why pointless obsession wrapped around her. What if it was a case her sight couldn't penetrate? She'd fail to protect someone again.
Bram caught the psychology in her hesitation right away. He knew her reluctance stemmed from "what ifs" and "just in cases" better than most. For the first time, it made her seem her age. But from his battlefield experience, lingering regrets like that rarely ended well.
What to do. Don't want to earn a proxy's grudge.
Bram drummed his fingers on his rifle barrel, pondering. Changing the mind of someone clinging to that was impossible until reality slapped them in the face. Especially for a special being with power beyond ordinary humans—they wouldn't tolerate such sentimentality.
Bram concluded coldly.
"If we drag the captain along by force and something goes wrong because of the delay, she'd hate us forever, right?"
"Probably."
Her swift reply, devoid of hesitation, made Bram chuckle inwardly—as expected.
"Best move right now is checking other floors or rooms... but if we can clear the creepy part, maybe verify it first."
Bell didn't think Bram was wrong. She knew this delayed them too, and alternatives existed.
"...Overloading the ability lets me see through walls or even floors above."
Bram turned.
"What the hell is up with those eyes?"
"Beats me."
Bell shrugged nonchalantly, and Bram smoothly pivoted.
"Then safest bet is checking more with those eyes, right?"
It was the quickest way, as Bram said, but Bell hesitated. Her power extended her normal field of view: nearby walls not made of thick concrete, focused spots. Overload pushed it further—through concrete, even to objects above. But pushing Luminot-enhanced abilities to the limit wasn't always feasible.
Bell averted her gaze.
"Overloading hits most proxies with temporary risks."
Backlash. Overuse triggered it. That's why proxy powers were special aids to enhanced bodies, not the main event. The management bureau knew; they'd developed custom weapons for combat proxies in the tech department to preserve them long-term.
Bram didn't know the details but leaned in, intrigued.
"For me, since it's in my eyes, breaching the limit means temporary blindness or blurred vision... affects combat. Recovery varies."
Bram got it instantly. She's experienced it once or twice. Fears it won't be temporary. This little girl does.
Having felt the backlash, she worried it might not fade. Who wouldn't?
"Then we're good. We've got enough already. No need for that risk."
Bram's thoughtful, upbeat reply made Bell nod slowly. Almost apologetic. That was plenty for him. He had the decency to show consideration to a girl smaller than himself.
Bell slung her rifle securely, face serious again.
"Then I'll head there first. If any Dists, I'll clean 'em up. Saves time."
Before he could respond, she crouched like prepping for a long jump, stepped back—then surged forward, vaulting the railing.
To the squad and Bram, it looked like the proxy girl had instantly leaped to suicide off the rail.
Thud—the ground impact echoed, but after the chopper incident, no one thought she'd died. Just wondered how long till this got routine.
"We move too. Everyone up?"
"All personnel holding on this floor."
"Annoying, but descend again. And those devices—can't shake the feeling they appeared outta nowhere. Stay sharp."
Bell soared across the floor, landing lightly. Her ankles ached faintly, but the durability still amazed her sometimes. Once, it'd felt cool and heroic. Now, normal life seemed rotten by comparison, leaving her glum.
She crept toward the mystery room cautiously. At the edge of her vision, something thread-like stirred.
What? I cleared everything there.
Bell remembered neutralizing threats in the lower path. She whipped around, rifle up.
"Wha...?"
Her peripheral caught heat signatures spreading like red threads. Then, from the dark, red eyes slowly emerged.
A lightning bolt of dread hit her. Turning, she realized Dists crawling from her blind spot.
Chills raced over her skin. How? Thick double walls, or hidden among wrecked Dists. Exploiting identical forms perfectly.
They hid...?
Dists were robots. Post-fifth law, strictly programmed. No human-like awareness of sightlines to hide and ambush—that wasn't in their code.
Yet they writhed from her exact blind spot.
Bell knew instinctively: something was wrong. Her heart sank.
She muttered softly.
"...They were hiding."
The Dists headed upward the instant she left. Precisely timing her absence.
Bell widened her scan. No movement signals toward the squad's floor ahead. None near the mystery room, blocked by thick obstacles.
Her mind was clear: Trap.
Still, that one "what if." She couldn't abandon it.
Deep breath. She leaped like a hunting hound. Slower than Adolf, but enough.
One bound. She reached the door. Vision flashing by, she stomped hard, leaped again—kicked the door flying into the room.
Bang!!! Crash!
Hinges shattered; the door tumbled across the floor. Bell slid to a stop, waving away dust with one hand.
The "what if" was cruel fantasy. The room was barren. Spotless floor, no blood. Just management bureau gear, neatly placed like staged.
Stamps and condition screamed Lieutenant Ri Siarin. But if badly wounded, leaving it meant blood traces.
What the hell... what is this...?
Bell gritted her teeth. Trap. Bait from the start.
But who? Who'd pull this outside the barrier?
Then—rat-tat-tat!
Gunfire erupted above. Bell's red eyes flashed. No time to hesitate.
She bolted back out. Felt Dists watching. In that split second, their gazes vanished, heading for Bram.
Like accelerating combat the moment she arrived.
Click—rifle to shoulder, fire.
Rat-tat-tat! Bang! Crunch!
Bell shattered one Dist's head. The advancing machines paused, then others filled the gap, surging.
"Get lost!!"
Teeth clenched, she fired again. Casings flew; echoes filled the stairwell.
Their purposeful movement chilled her. Calmly assessing, she gripped her rifle. Stairs up—perfect chance to hit their rear. And upstairs? Not regulars, special forces. Bell figured they'd hold; a bit of relief.
Then Bram's curt radio warning: "Captain, do not enter. Risk of friendly fire."
Bell moved to block the Dists from behind. Gunfire burst from the second floor, mixed with clipped radio chatter.
"Copy. Covering stairs only."
Quick breath, rifle steadied. From below, she precision-fired at Dist rears.
Bang! Bang-bang!
One Dist staggered, knee shot. Quick follow-up to the head.
Bell rolled her eyes rapidly, carefully picking off ascending Dists.
By the time acrid gunpowder stung her nose, no more movement in her sight.
Still, she pumped confirmation shots into every fallen Dist head.