章 68: Tot eorum-LXVIII
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DATE:26th of July, the 70th year after the Coronation
LOCATION: Concord Metropolis
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We booked a twin bedroom to rest, both of us too exhausted to argue about accommodations. I went into the shower first, letting the scalding water wash away the grime and tension from the day. The heat felt good, but it couldn't quite drown out the echoes of Aionis being chanted in the mall.
When I stepped out, a towel slung over my shoulders, Mike was sitting on the edge of his bed, fidgeting with the watch. His fingers moved rapidly, tapping at the device as if searching for some hidden function.
I collapsed onto the bland, uninspired sheets of my bed, staring at the ceiling for a moment before turning my head to look at him.
"How come you could teleport so frequently?" I asked, my voice heavy with exhaustion. "There's supposed to be a cooldown on the device."
"That?" He stopped fiddling for a moment, glancing at me with a small shrug. "I'm not sure. It just came naturally, I guess."
I frowned, sitting up slightly. "Naturally? That's not how these things work."
"Beats me." He stood, brushing off the conversation, and turned on the TV. The screen lit up with the unmistakable logo of Bubble News. A red banner across the bottom read: Breaking News.
We both froze as the anchor began speaking.
"Three hours ago, Aionis, together with an associate, managed to single-handedly fight off a gang that took over the mall in central downtown.
Reports indicate that a strange device resembling a bomb was found in the basement, and thanks to the intervention of Aionis, disaster was averted."
The screen shifted to clips of people from the crowd earlier, their faces alight with gratitude as they spoke to the camera.
"He was incredible! A real hero—came out of nowhere and saved us all!"
Another voice chimed in, a young woman holding back tears. "If it weren't for him, we'd all be dead. Aionis is amazing!"
The anchor's voice returned, more dramatic this time.
"Aionis is quickly becoming one of the most popular heroes, known for his hands-off approach and lack of advertisement—a true enigma in the world of capes and cowls."
Mike scoffed and flopped back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. "Lack of advertisement. They make it sound like you're a brand."
I turned my gaze back to the TV, my jaw tightening as I watched the exaggerated coverage.
"I hate how they see heroes as celebrities," Mike muttered. "Saving lives shouldn't be a business."
I nodded silently, my thoughts swirling.
They didn't know the truth. They didn't know about the bodies left behind, the quiet deals with Emily, or the moral compromises I'd made. To them, I was an untouchable symbol, a faceless savior.
But to me, it was all just survival. And survival wasn't something to chant about.
Is this how UltraMan felt? To be thought of as a living franchise? He participated in so many movies and had so much merch made of him, I wonder if he ever got sick of it.
Emily's voice echoed softly in my ear, calm and precise. "I've pinpointed the locations of their bases using the beacon signals. We can strike while they're vulnerable."
I leaned against the bed, my muscles aching from overuse. The events at the mall still weighed on me—physically and mentally. My body wasn't just tired; it hurt. Every movement felt like sandpaper against raw nerves.
"No," I said firmly. "Not tonight. I'm done. I need rest."
Emily hesitated, then replied, "Understood. We'll continue tomorrow."
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DATE:27th of July, the 70th year after the Coronation
LOCATION: Concord Metropolis
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Morning came too soon. We woke early and made our way to the hotel restaurant, the promise of breakfast the only thing pushing me out of bed. The menu was... unconventional. Muffins dominated every corner of the spread, but not the sweet kind you'd expect. There were savory meat muffins, muffins stuffed with boiled eggs, and even some that looked like they were trying to be a full English breakfast stuffed into pastry form.
Mike took one of each, his expression a mix of intrigue and horror. "This is the weirdest thing I've ever seen."
I picked at a standard sweet muffin, eating quickly. We didn't have time to linger.
---
Emily teleported us to Mike's warehouse after breakfast, giving us a chance to reload. Mike packed bullets and explosives with practiced efficiency while I checked my rifle, inspecting the mechanism for wear.
When we were fully geared, Emily teleported us to the closest base she had located.
We materialized near a beacon—a tall, cylindrical structure encased in reinforced glass, humming faintly with energy. The area was eerily quiet, the architecture sterile and unwelcoming.
"Emily, hack the door," I commanded.
"On it," she replied.
Mike moved silently, pulling a small cutting tool from his pack. He sliced a precise opening in the glass, just large enough to slip through one of his remote explosives. The device landed inside with a muted clink.
We stepped back into position as the door unlocked with a soft hiss. Beyond it lay a familiar white hallway, reminiscent of the last base.
Mike glanced at me, his finger hovering over the detonator.
"Do it," I said.
The explosive went off with a controlled burst, shattering the beacon into a cascade of sparks and glass shards.
"They won't be calling for reinforcements from this base," Mike said, grinning grimly.
"Or retreating to it," I added.
Emily chimed in. "From how they operate, I'm confident they don't share the locations of their bases with most agents. Each one should act independently."
Mike and I exchanged a glance. The playing field was ours now.
We cocked our rifles and stepped deeper into the hallway, the fluorescent lights casting cold reflections on the white tiles. Each step echoed ominously.
"Stay sharp," I muttered.
Mike smirked. "Aren't I always?"
The hunt was on.
Emily's calm, analytical voice guided us as we moved deeper into the base. "I'm using the watch to scan room layouts based on teleportable zones. It gives me a partial blueprint of the base, even without full access."
That advantage made navigating the labyrinthine halls slightly easier, but the agents weren't going to let us roam freely. White walls began to rise, just like last time, creating barricades as the sound of hurried footsteps filled the air.
Mike and I moved quickly, rifles ready. The agents stormed toward us, their formation sloppy and exposed.
"They're not even wearing vests," Mike muttered, shaking his head as we gunned them down.
"Amateurs," I replied, reloading smoothly.
Once the immediate threat was neutralized, we pushed forward, finding one door open while another remained sealed from the inside.
"This way," I said, stepping into the open room.
It was a computer room, the faint hum of servers filling the air. Rows of machines blinked with green and blue lights, likely housing sensitive data.
"Emily, hook up to this," I instructed, plugging her into one of the terminals.
Mike stayed outside to cover me, his rifle sweeping the hallway as Emily worked.
After a moment, her voice came through. "I'm disconnecting. The system holds too much data to copy to the phone, but I memorized critical details. I've cracked their encryption codes. They're laughably weak."
"Good enough," I said, unplugging her.
Mike stepped back into the room, studying the closed door. "This one's locked from the inside. Any ideas?"
"We're not knocking," I said.
Mike nodded, pulling out a stick of thermite. He applied it to the control panel beside the door and lit the charge.
"Back up," he warned.
We retreated as the thermite burned through the panel, and with a loud explosion, the wall buckled and gave way. A hole now gaped where the door had once been, and Mike winced, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Wasn't expecting that much of a bang," he admitted.
I peered through the hole, spotting movement. "People in cover," I whispered.
Mike grinned, already pulling a small canister from his pack. "Let's gas 'em."
He lobbed a chlorine bomb through the opening. Hissing gas began to fill the room, followed by panicked coughing and shouting.
"Finish it," I said.
Mike threw a frag grenade in after the gas.
The explosion rocked the base, the shockwave rippling through the walls and floor. Dust and debris spilled into the hallway as the screams inside were abruptly silenced.
We waited a beat before stepping closer, weapons ready. The aftermath of the blast was brutal—shattered equipment, overturned furniture, and silence.
"Effective," Mike said grimly, glancing at me.
"No survivors," I confirmed, stepping through the ruined entrance.
The hallway leading to the next room was heavily barricaded—tables, chairs, and even discarded equipment piled high to keep us out. But it didn't matter.
Mike glanced at me, smirking. "Stay here."
Before I could respond, he vanished in a blink, teleporting behind the barricade. A volley of gunfire erupted, punctuated by the muffled screams of agents caught off-guard. Moments later, the hallway fell silent, and Mike reappeared beside me, a smug look on his face.
"Clear," he said simply.
We stepped over the debris and entered the room. This one was far larger than the others—its sheer size immediately making me wary. It looked like a meeting room, with a massive table dominating the center. Embedded into the table was a strange, sleek device, its faint hum the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.
"Emily, what is this?" I asked, gesturing to the device.
For a moment, there was no response. Then, faint static crackled through the watch.
"Emily?" I repeated, more urgently.
Her voice finally came through, weak and distorted. "Someone… someone is trying to hack me."
"What?"
"The code… from the server. It… was a trojan virus. They're inside…"
The static grew louder, her words breaking apart.
"Damn it," I muttered, trying to focus despite the interference.
As we approached the table, the room's lights flickered and then dimmed, plunging us into near-darkness. The device on the table whirred to life, emitting a low-pitched hum that resonated in my chest.
A beam of light shot upward, forming the holographic image of a woman. She was dressed in a sharp, tailored suit, her presence commanding and severe. Her features were distinctively from Chou, with their slit eyes and her piercing gaze locked onto me almost immediately.
Her lips curled into a sneer.
"You useless corpse," she spat, her voice dripping with disdain.
I froze, the insult catching me off-guard.
"Excuse me?" I said, stepping closer.
She tilted her head, her expression unchanging. "It's fascinating. They speak so highly of you, yet here you are, nothing but a rotting relic trying to play the saviour."
My grip on my rifle tightened, but I forced myself to remain calm. "And who exactly are you?"
The hologram leaned forward slightly, as though sizing me up. "I am not here to answer your questions. You should worry more about your little friend."
Emily's static-filled voice cut through the room again. "Sh-she's… controlling… the device…"
The woman in the hologram smiled coldly. "Your AI is clever, but not clever enough. By the time you leave this room—if you leave—she will belong to me."
Mike raised his rifle, aiming it at the device. "Should I blow it up?"
"No," I said sharply. "Not yet."
I glared at the hologram. "If you think you can intimidate me, you're wasting your time."
"Oh, I'm not trying to intimidate you," she replied, her voice soft but venomous. "I'm simply informing you that you've already lost."
The room felt colder.
"Give up now, and I may spare her," the hologram said, her icy voice cutting through the tense air.
"Give up in what way?" I asked, folding my arms, unimpressed.
She gestured toward the left drawer in the table, her holographic hand phasing through it. "There are muzzles inside. Put them on yourselves, and I won't have you killed."
Mike snorted, and I couldn't help but grin. The desperation in her offer was apparent.
"You expect me to believe that?" I replied coolly.
The hologram's expression didn't shift, but her tone grew sharper. "Suit yourself."
"You're probably the boss, right? No need to answer—I'll find out soon enough." I turned to Mike. "Break that thing."
With a nod, Mike slammed the butt of his rifle into the table, shattering the device in one swift blow. Sparks flew, and the hologram flickered before vanishing. The room fell into an eerie silence, save for the faint static still coming from Emily.
I tapped the watch. "Emily? You back yet?"
Her voice was faint, still muffled. "W-working on it… too much… interference."
I clenched my jaw and turned to Mike. "Looks like we're on our own for now. Got any ideas?"
He scratched the back of his neck, visibly uneasy. "I can only teleport short distances, and I can't exactly guess where we'd land. Could be straight into a wall, for all I know."
"Great," I muttered, scanning the room.
We started searching for any physical exits. After some time, we found a sealed door with a control panel beside it. I studied the panel, but the interface was encrypted—far beyond my ability to crack. Only Emily could open it, and she was still struggling to recover.
"This was her plan," I said aloud. "Trap us here, starve us, or wait for reinforcements to clean up."
Mike kicked the door in frustration. "She doesn't get it, does she? We've got the coordinates for all the other beacons."
I nodded. "Exactly. This isn't the only base, and she knows we're a threat. Every second she waits to act is a mistake on her part."
Mike grinned, his confidence returning. "So, what's the move?"
I leaned against the wall, thinking. "We'll hit the next beacon without Emily. These bases must be very expensive for them to maintain
"And if it's not?"
"Then we keep going. Every beacon we destroy weakens them, trap or not. We've already disrupted their operations—this family is out of order, and they're scrambling to regain control."
Mike nodded, his grip tightening on his rifle. "They wanted a fight. Let's give them one."
I couldn't help but smirk at his enthusiasm. But for now, we were locked in a game of patience. The hologram thought she had the upper hand. She was wrong.
Before that we went back and picked up more of the watches. At the very least I could sell these for some cash. But should I? They seem awfully dangerous.
The room we teleported into was larger than any of the previous ones, with rows of waiting chairs lined up as if it were some kind of airport terminal. But something felt off—there was a strange sensation beneath my feet.
"Is it just me," I said to Mike, "or is this room... moving?"
He paused, tilting his head. "Yeah, I feel it too."
We didn't have time to figure it out because agents were already flooding into the room. Without hesitation, we opened fire, cutting them down before they could regroup.
As the chaos unfolded, I noticed something at the far end of the room. The floor slanted steeply into the ceiling, where a massive armored vehicle—possibly a tank—sat perched. Its high-tech turret gleamed ominously, and the entire setup screamed military-grade engineering.
I crouched behind cover and yelled to Mike, "Is this some kind of cargo bay?"
He peeked out, his eyes narrowing. "If it is, we're in a giant plane."
An alarm blared, bathing the room in flashing red lights. The agents had sounded the alarm, and we had no choice but to move.
"To the tank!" I shouted.
Mike provided cover as we dashed toward the armored vehicle, dodging incoming fire. I reached the tank and tried to pry open the hatch, but it was locked—a key was required.
"Figures," I muttered.
"No time!" Mike yelled. "We need to hit the beacon!"
We turned back toward the other end of the room, where a massive beacon loomed—a much larger version than the ones we'd seen before. Mike lobbed a C-4 charge at it, and we retreated into a nearby hallway.
The red lights intensified, and automated turrets descended from the ceiling, tracking us with deadly precision.
"Turrets!" Mike shouted, diving into the doorway for cover.
I followed, cursing under my breath. The doorway wasn't ideal—it left us pinned with no good angle to return fire.
"Detonate the C-4!" I ordered.
Mike hit the detonator, and the explosion rocked the entire structure. Dust and debris filled the air, and the floor beneath us shuddered violently.
I glanced at my watch to check the beacon's status. Still active.
"Damn it," I muttered. The beacon wasn't destroyed, and the structure's resilience only deepened the sinking feeling in my gut.
"This place is bad news," I said, turning to Mike. "I've got a bad feeling about sticking around."
"You thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Yeah. We take this base another time."
Before the turrets could recalibrate and tear us apart, I activated the teleportation. The room blurred into nothingness as we reappeared at a beacon farther away.
The moment we teleported into the new base, I knew something was off. The air was thick with moisture, and the walls were teeming with plant life. Vines crawled over the steel panels, flowers blossomed in unnatural colors, and moss covered what looked like ripped-open doors.
Mike took a cautious step forward, inspecting the bizarre scene. "What the hell happened here?"
I didn't answer immediately. The eerie silence pressed on me, a gnawing instinct telling me to leave. "We're moving to the next one," I said firmly.
Mike raised an eyebrow. "You sure? This place—"
"—is wrong," I interrupted, gesturing to the oversized flowers sprouting from cold steel. "Look at this. Whatever's here isn't something we're ready to deal with."
He hesitated but relented. "Fine. Let's go."
The next beacon brought us into a completely different environment—an office building.
It was like someone had transplanted a functioning corporate workspace directly onto the beacon. Workers were scattered around desks, typing on computers, making phone calls, and pretending not to notice us.
Mike raised his rifle and shot into the ceiling, the echo deafening in the confined space. "Everyone out!" he barked.
Panic spread through the room, and people scrambled for the exits.
As they fled, I couldn't help but think about who they were. Were they complicit in the organization's schemes, or were they just here for a paycheck? Mike seemed to think it didn't matter. I wasn't so sure.
That moral question was answered when a few of them made the mistake of reaching for concealed weapons.
I shot first, dropping them before they could pull the trigger.
Bullets slammed into me, but the flak vest absorbed the impact. The pain was negligible—nothing compared to what I'd endured in the past.
"Keep your heads down and get out!" I shouted to the unarmed workers still scrambling to escape.
Mike moved to the beacon at the center of the room, calmly setting explosives while I swept the perimeter. The whole place really was just an office—desks, filing cabinets, a break room off to the side.
I peered out a nearby window. The building was part of a city skyline, surrounded by countless others. Where exactly were we?
"Charges set," Mike called out, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"Let's move."
We bolted for the stairwell, descending several flights before triggering the explosives. The building shook slightly, and I felt the telltale pulse from my watch. Another beacon down.
As we caught our breath, I turned my attention inward. "Emily, how's it going?"
Her response was faint but steady. "Still handling the intrusion. It's persistent, but I'm making progress."
"Good," I said. "Stay sharp."
Mike glanced at me. "What's next?"
I looked back toward the cityscape, knowing this war wasn't over. "We keep going. One beacon at a time."
I decided to call it a day after we destroyed three more minor bases. Fatigue was creeping in, and I realized we were running into a major limitation: without Emily's ability to unlock the reinforced doors, there wasn't much more we could do.
Emily had been fighting tirelessly against the intruder in her systems—the supposed creator of the encryption software protecting these bases. She said his name was "Deus." That was all she could tell me about him, but her tone was laced with tension.
"He's relentless," she had said earlier. "I've managed to regain control of most of my systems, but it's an ongoing battle. If I slip up for even a moment, he could lock me out completely."
"Do what you need to do," I had told her. "We'll hold off until you're back to full strength."
But we couldn't afford to sit idle. I knew our earlier teleportation to Mike's warehouse might have compromised its location. The organization wasn't stupid, and they likely tracked our movements.
"We need to move your stash," I told Mike as we returned to the hotel.
He nodded, already anticipating the risk. "I've got a backup location in mind, but it'll take a while to move everything."
"Then we'll start tonight," I said, kicking off my boots and falling onto the hotel bed. My body ached from overusing my ability, but there was no time to dwell on it. "We'll rest for an hour, then get to it."
Mike smirked as he started disassembling his rifle. "An hour? You're pushing yourself too hard."
I ignored the comment, shutting my eyes to the hum of Emily's faint static in the background. The fight wasn't over—it was barely beginning.
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