Chương 101: Ch 101

13:10

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Security guards fill the guard post. Those who take the duty in shifts for 24 hours, guarding, napping, and having meals here, carry out tasks such as regular patrols within the outpost base and monitoring the monitors.

Sometimes, there are skirmishes with and repelling of intruding Rapture, but the performance of the enemy aircraft that wandered in is not that high.

They can handle it effortlessly—these security guards. However, being overwhelmed by those less resilient than Rapture is nothing but irony.

"Restrain them," the squad leader, wearing a patch indicating affiliation with the Central Government Army unit on the combat uniform sleeve, orders. Soldiers gripping rifles begin to move.

They brought titanium-matter handcuffs specifically, approaching the mass-produced Nikke staff stationed in the guard post. They proceed to handcuff their wrists.

It's a quite one-sided development. Not a single person resists. That's how it should be—they are incapable of it. With the consciousness ingrained not to harm humans, resistance and counterattack are impossible.

A sense of disgust builds up, and even though they attempt to resist—still, the muzzle thrust in front of their eyes prevents them from even brushing it away.

"What is this supposed to be?" urged by a soldier to put her hands down, a mass-produced Nikke—Eagle, on guard duty for the security team commander, asks the soldier in front of her about the purpose.

However, as the soldier snorted, he grabbed the rifle hanging from his neck with a sling and slammed the butt of the rifle into Eagle's abdomen.

"It seems like you haven't been disciplined, you scrap. Who said you could ask questions?"

—It's undoubtedly painful, but not unbearable.

She endured the pain of her body folding, but unintentionally, her eyes sharpened. It's understandable. Being struck unreasonably just for asking a question about the purpose. Moreover, by regular soldiers.

"...What's with that look?"

"What's wrong?"

"This scrap is being defiant."

Nonchalantly, the commander, a non-commissioned officer indicating his affiliation with the central government army, approaches, and the soldier points at Eagle with his gaze. Then—

"You damn fool. Defiant Nikke? ...This is how you make them follow orders."

The commander casually removes the safety device from the drawn pistol. The silenced muzzle is aimed at Eagle's abdomen, and the trigger is pulled without hesitation.

The suppressed gunshot echoes in the guard post, and the bullet fired hits her abdomen, causing her to collapse to the floor.

"Ugh...!"

"Another 2 or 3 shots."

"Yes, sergeant."

Nodding to the squad leader who demonstrated, the soldier, while stepping on Eagle's right arm that had collapsed on the floor, aims the muzzle at her right hand and pulls the trigger. Even though it's Goddesium's skin, and it's a firearm for anti-personnel use, being fired at such close range pierces not only the skin but also the artificial muscles underneath.

She consciously turns off the pain sensors, but humiliation takes root, and when she raises her face, she glares at the soldier trampling her arm.

"What are you looking at? What's with that look? I don't like it."

Now the muzzle is aimed at her head. Unhesitatingly staring at the muzzle, her defiant gaze seems to irritate the soldier—annoyed, he kicks her head with the iron-plated sole embedded in the boots.

"Sergeant, it's not working at all."

"What are you doing... What are you guys?"

The squad leader, who finally notices the piercing gaze from the mass-produced Nikke who should have already been restrained inside the guard post, clicks his tongue and casually looks around at his subordinates.

"Tch. Hey, you guys... let off some steam. Train these ones."

"Understood."

"Get out! Hurry up!!"

Soldiers point their guns at the Nikke and order them to leave the guard post while kicking and shooting those who don't comply, gradually clearing the guard post.

Whether Eagle's attitude was contagious or not, the eyes of the other Nikke now had a tint of hostility.

---

13:18

"Where are those idiots...!"

Outside the headquarters building, gunshots can be heard from quite nearby, and the sound of an engine, possibly that of an armored wheeled vehicle, is also audible. It seems like there are multiple of them.

As soon as the first gunshot sounded, he dropped to the floor. Continuing to crawl forward, he reached the low table and picked up his assault rifle that was waiting for maintenance.

It's a good thing he didn't return the remaining bullets to the ammunition storage yet. The magazine is still loaded.

Grabbing the magazine, he slams it against his mechanized right leg to align the primers, loads it into the magazine well, pulls the charging handle, and slams the bolt forward with the palm of his hand.

These actions are routine for him.

With a headset on his head, he puts on a half-sleeved black shirt and, over it, wears his body armor, also not yet maintained. He fastens the leg holster containing a pistol to his right leg, and he's ready.

As the gunshots cease, Moore gets up, crushes the cigarette in the ashtray, and walks towards the window.

"...About 30 individuals. Squad size, it seems. Two-wheeled armored personnel carriers (WAPC)."

Leaning against the wall and looking out from the window, Moore observes the area in front of the headquarters building. He recognizes about 30 armed soldiers with a rough estimate. Probably, there are other personnel at the outpost base that he can't see.

"…Which unit? Triangle, Central Government Army?"

There's no need to squint and observe. He captures the familiar figures of three: Yurha, Admi, and Privaty.

Moore takes a mobile device from the pocket of his combat suit. Before he can ask Yurha what's going on—

"...They're doing it too."

The antenna displayed on the liquid crystal screen is not raised. Whether it's facing radio interference or not, the mobile device seems to be useless. Judging from the situation with the phone earlier, it's likely that phone lines and cables have been cut. The wired connection backfired.

Radio—Moore operates his headset and attempts to communicate with his squad members in the dormitory.

"Rapi, can you hear me?"

A squad-sized force is on the move. If radio communication is also unavailable, it's evident that it will hinder the operation. Trying to communicate, hoping that it will work—

"Commander. Are you safe? Where are you now?"

"Radio works... good. I'm okay. I'm in the commander's office. In the dormitory? Any casualties?"

"The squad, including Anis, Neon, and Marian, is all here. No casualties among the off-duty mass-produced Nikke staff. Is it Guests?"

"Yeah, I didn't invite them. It's Triangle. About 30 infantry visible, roughly a squad size. Two-wheeled armored personnel carriers (WAPC)."

Moore's gaze, reporting to Rapi via radio, is directed towards the dormitory. It seems that the gunfire from earlier—the shooting was aimed at the dormitory.

Soldiers in matching combat uniforms and equipment have taken positions in front of the dormitory's main entrance, pointing their guns.

However, inside the headquarters building, there's probably an intrusion happening.

"Can you make an escape?"

"We'll try our best."

"Don't push yourselves. We'll meet up in the abandoned building we use for clearing training."

With a view of Privaty moving towards the dormitory, just before she was about to start, a gunshot rang out. It seems to be a gunshot from Rapi's assault rifle.

"...Make sure not to push yourselves too hard."

"Roger. Commander, take care."

With that decided, he needs to act promptly. He tries to move away from the window cautiously, but—

"Hm?"

About 400 meters in a straight line. A guard post is set up far beyond the paved road in front of the outpost base headquarters building. Moore notices something moving there, takes out binoculars from his pouch, and peers through the eyepiece.

Adjusting the focus—once he sees the scene reflected in the field of view, deep vertical wrinkles are carved between his eyebrows.

Nikke generally cannot attack humans. Even if there were strong murderous intent or a will to counterattack, it would be possible if the NIMPH functioned, but as a rule, it's impossible. Because they are "made" that way.

They probably know that well. That's why—unilateral violence is inflicted on his subordinates.

It's likely that real bullets are loaded into the self-defense pistol. Pointing the silenced one, pulling the trigger, and shooting the abdomen. The reason for not shooting the head deliberately is unclear, but it's probably not for a good reason. It's likely just a means of having a good punching bag.

There are also soldiers hitting her cheeks with the impact of the carried rifle. Creating several lines, taking turns to hit her—whether it's to see who can make Nikke's body sway the most.

In any case—Moore's eyes lose all emotion as he lowers the binoculars.

Quietly, Moore carefully opens the window with his hands.

Kneeling with one knee on the floor, he places the assault rifle on the window frame in a supported shooting position. His fingertips move. The safety is silently removed, and it switches to single-shot.

Looking through the ACOG optical sight with his mechanical right eye, he aligns the reticle with the adjusted zero point calibration, mentally adjusting the impact point.

"Woof! Woof woof woof! Growl...! Woof woof woof woof!"

A quite cute dog's barking reaches Moore, shaking the air. From the sound, it's probably Anis.

—Next time, let's do it right in front of him.

His mouth corners twitched ever so slightly. However, his lips quickly straightened, and when he expelled all the air from his lungs, the taut trigger was pulled.

The firing pin struck the primer, igniting the explosive within the cartridge. The projectile, propelled by the combustion, rotated inside the gun barrel as it flew out from the muzzle. While the ejected cartridge danced in the air from the ejection port, the projectile continued its flight, tracing a gentle arc.

As the projectile soared over the heads of the Triangle gathering in front of the building, reaching the airspace above the paved road, those who reacted were there. Privaty, Yurha, and Admi instinctively lowered themselves. Truly worthy of being Nikke. Reacting swiftly, their gaze turned towards the second floor of the headquarters building.

The target of the fired projectile was a soldier who had shot out the legs of Eagle, a soldier kneeling on the street with his helmet removed, a faint smile on his face, pressing the muzzle of his pistol against his forehead.

In a straight-line distance of about 400 meters, the projectile that flew that distance in an instant turned the right hand of the soldier's pistol into a spray of blood, smoke, and flesh.

The wrist and beyond disappeared in an instant, and a moment later, intense pain shot through. The soldiers' screams and cries, with the soldier shielding his opposite hand with his left hand, resonated within the optical sight.

To the soldiers rushing to the one bleeding profusely, Moore pulled the trigger. The next shot landed on the road at their feet, scattering asphalt fragments, but it ended up embedded in the skin. It seemed the uninjured soldiers, understanding that they were targeted, hurriedly sought cover, jumping behind obstacles.

However, this would reveal Moore's position.

Nevertheless, depending on how you look at it, it might be a wish come true.

"—Provide cover. Make your escape."

As he gave orders to Rapi through the radio, he stood up, exposing himself from the window, aiming the muzzle of his assault rifle downward. The selector lever was manipulated with his fingertips, and at the moment it switched to full auto, the trigger was pulled.

The rapid gunfire echoed, leaving bullet marks on the paved road, and fragments scattered.

—Shoot, as if saying standing in the open was a mistake.

Despite firing shots at soldiers in positions as easy to aim at as shooting range targets, the aim was rough due to both confusion and the purpose of supporting the escape attempt from the dormitory. It only resulted in causing injuries to the soldiers with fragments, but Moore noticed that about a dozen figures had rushed out from behind the dormitory.

More time is needed to be bought.

Moore rummaged through his pouch, withdrew a hand grenade, and stopped shooting. Pulling the pin from the clenched grenade, he threw it.

"—Grenade!"

As soon as they discovered the falling grenade on the road, one of the soldiers issued a warning. Se veral seconds after the soldiers reflexively moved away from the grenade, lying down on the road, it exploded, scattering fragments around.

Without confirming the effectiveness, Moore immediately moved away from the window and put on the backpack he had placed near the coffee table.

Before leaving the commander's office, as usual, it was necessary to lock the door. Even in such times, sticking to the usual routine was important.

After quickly locking the commander's office, he started down the corridor with his assault rifle. Without using the elevator, when he reached the stairs, he heard multiple footsteps below.

"—Firepower!"

Just to be safe, he raised his voice. It was the password—but there was no response. Instead, he caught the sense of someone rushing up the stairs. It was undoubtedly an enemy.

Moore took out the remaining few grenades from the pouch on his body armor, pulled their pins, and threw them down the stairs.

Amidst the sound of grenades rolling down the stairs, a voice other than his, a man's voice, shouted, "Grenade!"

Slightly delayed due to being indoors, the explosion echoed loudly. Confirming the explosion, Moore, still holding his assault rifle, did not let go of his combat stance as he descended the stairs.

Reaching the first floor—slightly too late for the prompt response, a few soldiers who had been bathed in the blast and fragments were slammed against the wall or lay sprawled on the floor.

Faint groans escaped, so they were probably still alive. Barely, but alive.

Just as he was considering delivering a shot to the head, soldiers entering from the main entrance rushed in. Moore, through the headset, sensed multiple footsteps and aimed his muzzle. As soon as he pulled the trigger—

However, the soldiers of Triangle were also a group of trained military personnel. To protect themselves from his gunfire, if they responded with return fire while taking cover, the interior of the headquarters building immediately took on the appearance of a battlefield.

—The repair costs will be hefty.

Contemplating this belatedly, Moore changed the magazine of his assault rifle. Fortunately, he hadn't returned the surplus ammunition from the morning mission, but unfortunately, his current supply was still limited. He had stored some in his backpack, but he would have to be frugal. The ammunition depot was probably captured, too.

At that moment, he felt a sense of discomfort. To confirm that feeling, he shifted the housing of his headset and leaned his ear toward the enemy's gunfire—apparently, it wasn't live ammunition.

—They're underestimating me.

It seemed to be non-lethal rubber bullets.

In that case—Moore, with a speed that seemed unlikely for someone carrying a backpack, body armor, and a Tetra-Line assault rifle for dealing with Rapture, jumped out from behind the staircase wall and sprinted down the corridor.

Several rubber bullets hit or grazed his body, but he pressed on without flinching.

To the enemy, it probably seemed like nothing but fear.

A tall and sturdy man, his dilated pupils gleaming, charged in. He took several rubber bullets—something that, for a human, would undoubtedly cause not death but intense pain, such as fractures or contusions, yet he showed no sign of faltering.

Closing in on Moore, he recreated the scene he had witnessed from the second floor.

He thrust the barrel of the assault rifle into the abdomen of a soldier protected by body armor, bending his body into a C-shape with the impact, and as soon as he was slammed against the wall, he struck with the butt of the rifle. He felt a sensation of something crushing inside the abdomen, but he didn't know what.

With his deep brown eyes gleaming, he identified his next prey.

"—Long time no see, Sergeant."

Having captured the image of the non-commissioned officer who had threatened an officer disrespectfully during the investigation at the Central Archives some time ago, Moore closed in, greeted him unilaterally, and swept away the rifle pointed at him with the assault rifle.

As the barrel of Moore's assault rifle seemed to pass through the sergeant's right side, his body was turned half, and the knife with a black blade that Moore had pulled out with his left hand was thrust onto the sergeant's carotid artery, after he dropped his rifle.

It wasn't because they were acquainted that he considered helping. It was because it could be useful.

While the sergeant, with the assault rifle, stuck to his shoulder and back, was prompted to move forward, any resistance would cause the assault rifle entangled with his right arm to move, and the pain of joints creaking spread throughout the sergeant's body.

"—Captain Moore!"

Triangle team members aimed their guns at Moore, who appeared boldly in front of the building, but he didn't overlook the moment when they were disturbed by the sight of their shielded comrade.

Privaty called out his name, but Moore snorted.

"I didn't think we'd meet again so soon. Ah, you've done quite a nasty trick on my subordinates. If that's the Central Government Army's style... then this is my style."

"...Nasty trick? What are you talking about?"

"Ah, there's no need to play dumb. It would be rude not to return the favor in style..."

Ignoring Privaty, who seemed confused, Moore's left hand with a fighting knife gripped cut through the sergeant's skin, and blood began to seep. As if catching only the cold sensation of the blade gradually sinking in, the sergeant, with a pale face, rattled his teeth.

"Captain Moore! Release the sergeant! This is a warning!"

"—Then let me give you a warning too. Scram off from my base home that I'm taking care of."

Walk, Moore ordered the sergeant. As an afterthought, he told him to go back while driving the blade a few millimeters deeper into the flesh, and the sergeant obediently began to move as Moore directed.

----

Eagle was, for the time being, unharmed. I thought of subjecting her to more severe violence, but... my conscience got in the way...

However, even with just this, Captain Moore's killing intent switch is turned on... well, I suppose it's okay.