The sterile, white kitchen was a deathtrap waiting to be sprung. The air was cold, smelling faintly of disinfectant and the lingering scent of food cooked hours ago. Five men, professionals by the look of their gear and the confident way they held their rifles, were waiting just beyond the swinging doors.
Nari crouched beside me, a sleek, gray smoke grenade in her hand. She gave a single, sharp nod to the others still huddled in the relative safety of the lift. Duck. Then, she looked at me, a wicked, predatory glint in her grey eyes. With a satisfying klink, she pulled the pin. “I’ll smoke ’em,” she whispered, her voice a low, thrilling promise. “You kill ’em.”
She didn’t throw the grenade; she rolled it, a smooth, practiced motion that sent it skittering across the polished floor. An instant later, the kitchen erupted in a thick, choking cloud of white smoke.
The shouts started immediately, a chorus of confusion and alarm. “What’s going on?!” “Infiltrators! We have infiltrators!”
But it was too late for them. I moved like a phantom, a blur of motion in the swirling chaos, my assault rifle spitting fire. The first man was just a shape in the smoke, and my burst of gunfire stitched a neat line across his chest. He went down without a sound.
“Two down, three left,” Anna’s voice, a calm, digital ghost in my ear, cut through the noise. “One is coming from your back, Leader.”
“I’ll handle it,” Nari’s voice replied in my other ear. A soft phht from her silenced pistol, and a heavy thud confirmed the kill.
I moved forward, my senses on fire. I took down the fourth man as he emerged from the smoke, his rifle raised too late. “Where’s the last one?” I asked, my own voice a low, urgent hum.
“He’s behind you, Leader!” Anna’s voice was sharp with warning.
I spun, my back completely exposed, but before I could even bring my rifle to bear, a deafening BOOM echoed through the kitchen. The final soldier, who had been sneaking up behind me, jerked as if struck by lightning and collapsed to the floor.
Standing in the doorway of the lift, her arm outstretched, was Bella. The massive Desert Eagle was still smoking in her hand, her face pale but her eyes blazing with a fierce, terrified triumph.
“Thanks,” I said, a wave of genuine gratitude washing over me. She just gave me a single, sharp nod, her chest heaving as the adrenaline began to recede.
Nari emerged from the smoke, a ghost in the dim light. “Anna,” she said into her comm, “is this area clear?”
“Clear,” Anna replied. “Take the left gate. It goes directly to the parking garage. I’ve already unlocked a few cars. Pick any one that’s electric; they’re quieter.”
We moved. “Allison, Sandra,” I commanded, “help the Song sisters get inside.”
We found the car, a sleek, black SUV. Everyone piled in. Bella was already in the back, her face a mask of grim resolve. We were almost there. Almost safe.
But then, a figure stepped out from behind a concrete pillar, a mountain of a man blocking our only path to freedom. He wore a dark, form-fitting command suit, but he was unarmed. His face was a mask of cold, detached amusement, one half of it a complex lattice of chrome and a single, glowing blue scanner for an eye.
I didn’t need the System to tell me he was dangerous. My instincts were screaming it.
“Nari, you drive,” I shouted, my hand already on the door handle. “I’ll distract him.”
“No, Adam!” she shot back, her own eyes wide with a new, dawning horror. “This man… he looks dangerous.”
“Get inside!” Allison pleaded from the back, her voice tight with panic. Sandra was just staring, her face a mask of pure terror.
“Move!” I roared, throwing the door open. “Go! That’s an order!”
Nari hesitated for a fraction of a second, then her face hardened. She slammed the car into drive, the electric engine whining as she sped away.
I turned to face the monster. System, activate all combat skills.
He punched. I punched. Our fists met in a blur of motion, a thunderous CRACK echoing through the cavernous parking garage.
And then, a wave of pure, white-hot agony shot up my arm. I stumbled back, a choked gasp of pain escaping my lips. My hand, my wrist, my entire forearm—it was on fire, shaking uncontrollably. For the first time in a long time, I felt real pain. I looked at the bulky man. He was just standing there, a predator watching its wounded prey, a slow, cruel smile on his lips.
My blood ran cold. My internal thought: Impossible. My punch should have shattered his bones. But it was my arm that broke. Who is this guy? I focused my will. System, Appraisal.
The white panel shimmered into existence, and the world dissolved into a field of static.
Status:
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Name: Macross
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Strength: 1250
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Agility: 950
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Endurance: 1500
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Mentality: 0
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Intelligence: 250
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Mana: 0
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Potential: N/A
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Skills: [CQC Protocol: Annihilation (Mastery)], [Threat Assessment Matrix], [Kinetic Energy Absorption]
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Passive Skills: [Pain Inhibitors], [Unflinching Resolve], [Cybernetic Overclock]
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Superpower: [None]
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Soul Ledger: [None]
The numbers didn’t just shock me; they terrified me. Over a thousand in Strength and Endurance. An Agility that dwarfed my own. And a Mentality of zero. I had so many questions, but there was no time.
He moved, and the world became a blur of pain. His first punch sent me flying, my back slamming against a concrete pillar with a sickening crunch. I felt ribs crack. He was on me before I even hit the ground, his second punch shattering my nose in an explosion of blood and pain.
“I don’t know who you are,” he said, his voice a low, synthetic hum, devoid of all emotion. “But for the Chancellor, you are a threat. I am going to kill you and drag those two bitches back.”
With a desperate surge of will, I activated my ultimate weapon. System, [King’s Edict]!
Skill failed, the System’s voice was cold and final. Target has no will to be dominated.
He grabbed me by my broken arm and twisted. I screamed, a raw, animal sound of pure agony. He threw me against a car, the metal groaning under the impact. He slammed my head against the wall. Once. Twice. The world tilted, the dim lights of the parking garage blurring into long, hazy streaks.
My internal thought: I remember the day I got the System. I thought my life would be better. But now… now I’m just facing new, more terrifying ways to die.
He hit me again, a final, brutal blow to the head. The world dissolved into a swirling vortex of blackness and pain.
I was falling. Fainting.
And the last thing I saw before the darkness took me was his cold, emotionless, and utterly triumphant face.
(Nari’s Perspective)
The world outside the bulletproof glass was a blur of concrete and shadow. The sound of Adam’s scream, raw and full of a pain I had never heard from him, was a physical blow. The car was moving. I was driving. I was following his last order.
My internal thought, “It is the logical choice. The mission is to protect the assets. The Song sisters are the assets. Adam… Adam made himself a sacrifice to ensure the mission’s success. This is the cold calculus of war. This is what a leader does. So why does it feel like I’m leaving my own heart behind to die?”
“We can’t just leave him!” Allison’s voice was a frantic, heartbroken cry from the back seat. “He’ll be killed!”
“He told us to go,” Bella’s voice was a low, grim rumble, but I could hear the conflict in it. “He’s buying us time.”
“Then his time is worthless!” Sandra shot back, her voice surprisingly fierce. “We have to go back! We can’t just abandon him!”
Their voices were a meaningless buzz in my ears. I saw the exit ramp ahead, the path to safety, to the airport, to Anna, to the continuation of our plans. It was the correct move. The only move.
I thought, “I am a Han. I am the President of Northwood, who is feared by me. I make hard choices. I sacrifice pieces to win the game. He is a piece. A very powerful, very important, very… captivating piece. But still a piece. This is logic. This is reason.”
I remembered the flight here. The quiet intimacy as he slept in my lap. His kindness, the way he had shielded me from that brick in Triveria without a second thought. The hot chocolate he had made me, knowing, somehow, that I needed it. The way he had looked at me on that terrace in Finesse City, not as a strategist or leader, but as a woman. The touch of our lips on each other. His lingering scent. His promise to me, ‘ Till the end,’ echoes in my mind. everything coming to my mind, revolving.
My hands tightened on the steering wheel, my knuckles white.
“SHUT UP, ALL OF YOU!” I roared, the sound raw and unfamiliar, tearing from my own throat. The car fell silent.
My internal thought, “Emotions are a weakness. A variable that cannot be controlled. They lead to illogical, inefficient outcomes. I have no emotions. Adam is a pawn. A valuable pawn. A powerful piece on my side of the board. And I do not sacrifice my powerful pawn.”
My foot slammed on the brake. The tires screamed against the concrete, the car slewing to a halt just feet from the exit ramp.
I looked in the rearview mirror. I could see him, a broken shape on the ground. The cyborg, Macross, was standing over him, raising a foot to deliver the final, crushing blow.
In that moment, something inside me, a cold, carefully constructed wall I had spent my entire life building, did not just crack.
It shattered.
I threw the car into reverse, the engine screaming in protest. I didn’t just turn the car. I spun it, a desperate, impossible maneuver that sent us hurtling back into the heart of the danger.
The game was over. The calculations were gone. There was only one variable left in the world that mattered. And I was going to save him.
