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Chapter 21: Stray Bullet
TL: Enuma ID
Thoom, ka-boom!
Boom! Ka-boom!
"Aaaaaargh!"
"S-someone, help me!"
Е̇ňum̊ ā. і̇ d̂
"Shoot! What are you waiting for, shoot, you idiots!"
Amid the hail of shrapnel, Chongqing Society men screamed and went sprawling.
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Not one of them could even level a muzzle properly; they had all sunk into panic.
"They really came here to finish the job."
No sooner had I marveled at it than more of the assassination squad opened up with their launchers, all at once, each from his own position.
Simultaneous rocket fire converged on the Chongqing Society building from every direction.
Е̊ n úm а.і̃d́
My eyes traced the pale smoke trails threading back from each blast point.
'Five men firing rockets. Positions...'
Remarkably, one of the assassination squad had set up right above my head.
Along with the smell of gunpowder brushing my nose, a single streak of white smoke stretched out across the air.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
I picked up another movement on the rooftop of a building farther off.
Rat-tat-tat-tat!
Е̊ ñ ü m̄ а
Bang! Ba-bang!
"Aaargh! My arm! My aaarm!"
"Enemy! Return fire! That building over there! Shoot, now!"
Having opened the battle with eleven rockets in total, they shook the battlefield with machine-gun fire.
The assassination squads laid down calm, directed fire, painting with their machine guns, and the hundreds of rounds pouring in from all sides turned the milling, wailing Chongqing Society men into rags, one by one.
The ambushed Chongqing Society men, for their part, had no idea where the bullets were even coming from, and simply wasted their fire into empty air.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
Making a mockery of all that bellowing about not wasting shots, gunfire scattered into the void was the only thing standing in for their helpless death rattles.
The battle had taken the shape of a one-sided massacre.
'Nice and loud. Perfect.'
The ideal conditions for a black agent to move had now been arranged.
With the night deepening further, I headed for the rooftop above my head.
Creak.
Ѐ ṅ úḿа̂ .і̊ d́
Easing the door open, I saw the black back of an assassination-squad man's head, body pressed tight against the rooftop railing as he squeezed his machine gun's trigger.
He was so absorbed in the massacre unfolding below that he wasn't watching his back at all.
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Brrrrrrt!
Only the sound of bullets pouring out into the darkness filled the air.
I drew the Glock 19 from my jacket and aimed.
Pfft.
W ё bn о̇v е l̃_ Èńu m̆а̌
"Grk?"
His heart was punched through, and in the same instant his head pitched forward.
The thin metallic crack of the pistol was swallowed by the gunfire echoing from every direction.
"Let's have a look."
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I nudged the fallen corpse aside with my foot and picked up the weapon he had been holding.
A Type 73 machine gun.
W̊ е b̀n̆ о̌ vе̂l̄ Én û m а
A weapon distinctive for its bizarre design, borrowing a Czech-style feed system that socketed the magazine in from the top.
The upright magazine blocking the sight line was a fatal flaw, but then machine guns were never meant for precision aiming in the first place.
"Hup."
Gripping the gun braced on the railing, I turned my gaze and spotted the muzzle flash of another machine gun spitting fire from the rooftop of the nearest building across the way.
I leveled the muzzle straight at it.
Thud-d-d-d-doom!
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While the meaty recoil hammered my shoulder without mercy, my burst blanketed the opposite rooftop clean.
Blood misted in the darkness, and in the same moment the outline of his body crumpled limply onto the concrete.
-What was that? We're under attack!
-It's Seal No. 3's position! Open fire!
Sensing something wrong, the assassination squad reacted instantly over the radio.
Maybe it was the tracer rounds mixed in, but the trajectory of fire flying from one friendly position toward another had been laid completely bare.
W е́ b n̂ о_vеľ Е n ŭ m а̂
The rest of them, posted elsewhere, converged their fields of fire all at once on the rooftop where I stood.
Ratatat-tat!
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Brrrrrrrrt!
"Whoops."
Bullets flying in from all directions shattered the rooftop railing and hammered into my chest and shoulders, thud after thud.
Of course, the bullets failed to pierce my skin and merely clattered to the floor.
Ŵ е b n̄ о v̌е̊l̄ Еn̂ um̈ а̊
'Going down.'
Since it had come to this anyway, I flung myself over the railing.
Crash! Thud!
"Oof."
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I had never once attempted this before, so the landing made quite a racket.
My body, free-falling from three stories up, slammed shoulder-first into the hard asphalt.
Ё n u ma
I must have looked exactly like a corpse that had been shot and fallen.
Sprawled just as I had landed, I lay still and held my breath.
-He fell. Died on impact.
-Confirmed. We shall resume the attack.
Fortunately, the radio strapped to my body was still intact.
They must have judged me dead; no further hail of bullets came.
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They swung their muzzles back around and refocused on finishing off the Chongqing Society men.
Rat-tat-tat-tat!
"Whew."
I crawled out beyond the machine guns' arc and got to my feet.
My clothes were a little torn, that was all; forget fractures, there wasn't so much as a scratch on me.
Then I moved quickly toward the next building where the gunfire continued.
Wе̃b n̆ о̄v̇ е̇l Е n û m̄ а
From there on, it was familiar, repetitive work.
-The enemy has seized our machine gun!
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-Again? Watch your backs!
-Seal No. 4's position!
-I have shot him dead!
An understandable mistake, but every time, they took me for someone else.
Ӗn̊ū mа̃ .ĩ d́
Thanks to that, I cleaned out four machine gunners the exact same way in barely ten-odd minutes.
Rat-tat-tat-tat!
'Where did the rest of them go?'
As I threw myself over yet another railing and played dead, some disorderly movement caught my eye.
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Assassination-squad men, matched head to toe in black, were cutting across the massacred Chongqing Society men toward the Chongqing Society safe house.
I had killed four.
Е̊n̈ u̇ m̊a
Six were charging in.
One machine gunner remained.
Somehow that left two missing from the head count I knew.
'Did they slip into the Kowloon Hotel?'
With that plausible guess, I got up again and moved to the next building.
I had just reached the rooftop where the fifth machine gunner was waiting.
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"Huh."
"Mmph!"
My eyes met those of an assassination-squad man who happened to be swapping magazines.
Perhaps he had sensed something ominous in advance; he had already been watching for an attack from the rear.
In the moment he leveled his freshly reloaded machine gun, I already had my pistol trained on him.
Click.
Ẁ e b̄ n̄ о̂ v̌ ӗ l Е nũ m а̃
"Damn."
At some point when I wasn't looking, the Glock 19's slide had locked back.
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I was out of ammunition.
Rat-tat-tat-tat!
"Croak!"
The instant I stepped onto the rooftop, a riotous hail of machine-gun rounds tore into my body.
E n u ma
While the violent impacts shoved me backward off my feet, I leisurely swapped in the magazine I had drawn from my jacket.
The gunfire stopped while I rolled on the floor as if catching my breath, and the man, certain now that I was dead, stood panting, worn out by the recoil.
Bang!
"Gaaark!"
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A bullet buried itself in his thigh, and his eyes went wide even as he collapsed.
A body that should have been shredded to rags several times over by machine-gun fire had gotten up; the sight of me alive and moving, perfectly fine, had knocked the sense clean out of him.
Е̊nu m̄ а
Bang!
And a finishing confirmation kill, for good measure.
"Machine guns all clear."
Now, it seemed, all that remained was dealing with the assassination-squad men who had infiltrated the Chongqing Society building.
The Chongqing Society men who had been camped outside had long since been reduced to a heap of corpses, utterly helpless under the machine-gun barrage.
"Hup."
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No need to bother hunting for the stairs; I vaulted straight over the railing.
The bare-body drop I had somehow grown used to; my body hung in the air for a moment.
Crash! Thud!
I slammed into the ground with a tremendous racket, but I soon brushed off my backside and stood up.
"Good grief."
The scene around the Chongqing Society safe house was nothing short of a hellscape.
Wеb̄ nӧ v̌ е l̄ Ė n̆ů mа̂
The building had half collapsed under the barrage of high explosives, and the street was thick with the gasping moans of the dying.
Between the pools of blood, I picked up a gun lying on the ground.
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It was a pump-action shotgun of unknown make that looked like a copy of a Remington design.
'Let's go in.'
All the while, the inside of the safe house rang endlessly with the assassination squad's gunfire.
Mixed into it, something like wailing sobs drifted here and there on the wind.
Е ǹ u m̊ ӓ. і̂ d
I was just about to step into the safe house, where the storm still raged.
"Hnngh. Mommy..."
"Th-they're all dead. We're finished, it's over for us..."
"Sniff. Hnnn..."
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From behind a concrete blast barrier set in a corner of the entrance came voices moaning as if in pain.
I approached with my gun raised, and to my surprise, I saw familiar faces.
Wеbn оv̇ e̊ l̀ Ӗ ñu̇ mӓ
"Waaaaahh..."
The Black Panther Gang trio.
Three burly men crouched on the blood-slicked floor, clinging to one another.
Apparently they had managed to dive behind the barrier the moment the shooting started and saved their own skins.
That survival instinct, at least, deserved some credit.
Sensing my approach, they trembled and lifted their heads.
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"Hurk!"
"Wh-what?"
"Y-you, why are you here..."
At the sight of me, their jaws dropped as if they had seen a ghost.
It was an oddly pitiful scene, and before I knew it, I found myself hesitating.
After wavering like that for a good while, I simply lowered the gun.
Ӗ ṅü m̃ a
"Catch."
Plop.
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I pulled a car key from my pocket and tossed it into their arms.
The key to Wang Chil's taxi, which I had driven here and parked nearby.
"Head out of the alley and go straight down to the left, and you'll see a blue taxi. Drive it straight into downtown Dandong and don't look back. Then ditch the car and run. Got it?"
For some reason, I just wanted to.
Е n u m̊а̊
These were the guys who came around every single day to beat the hell out of me; what was so precious about them that I would go this far?
Somewhere along the way, I must have grown genuinely fond of them, grudge and all.
"Wh-what the hell are you, anyway? Why are you here..."
"Knowing will get you hurt. Keep asking useless questions and you'll have to die right here."
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"Hrk."
A short while ago, Crane No. 13 had died, helpless.
Е.n̂ ůmа̊
For today at least, I didn't want anyone else I knew to die.
That was all there was to it.
"You never saw me here. Understood?"
"Y-yes, sir!"
"Now go."
At my warning, delivered in a voice sunk deliberately low, they gulped down their breath and nodded like madmen.
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When I jerked my chin again, they scrambled up, practically crawling across the floor, and began fleeing desperately in the direction I had pointed.
"Let's never run into each other in a place like this again..."
After confirming that their backs had vanished completely into the darkness, I stepped straight into the building.
The stairs leading to the safe house's second floor already reeked of blood.
Corpses everywhere.
Most had been drilled with precise holes only between the brows and through the heart.
E ǹ ūmа̃ . іd̃
It was a scene that offered a glimpse of a North Korean assassination squad's skill at tactical maneuvering.
"Hm?"
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"Enemy attack!"
Then, as I reached the second floor, two assassination-squad men heard my footsteps and swung their muzzles around instantly.
They had been performing confirmation kills on the Chongqing Society remnants; the moment they made out my silhouette, they pulled their triggers without so much as a warning.
Ratatat!
Éǹ ŭm а.і d
Bang, ba-bang!
The rounds flew dead-center into my chest and gut.
A flawless shot group, without a single wasted round.
But I didn't stop walking.
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"Wh-what is this?"
"He is wearing body armor! Shoot him in the head!"
Е ń ũ ma .і d
Rattled by the sight of me calmly advancing after taking rounds to the chest, they raised their aim.
Bang! Bang!
My head snapped back slightly, then returned to where it was.
With a ping, a slug with its nose crushed flat dropped at my feet.
"Wh-what in the world..."
Bang!
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One of them, hit square-on by the shotgun I had aimed almost carelessly, was flung straight backward.
"One down."
"M-monster!"
Bang!
"Khuk!"
"Two down."
Ẁе̇ b̃n o v̂ёl Еn um_а
Click, click.
That was all the shells it had loaded.
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I tossed the gun aside at once and picked up the rifle one of the assassination-squad men had been carrying instead.
Once again, I couldn't pin down the exact model; it looked like one of the new weapons North Korea had recently developed.
"Gunfire from below! Support them!"
The remaining assassination-squad men, alerted to my attack, converged above the third-floor landing.
Е̃n̄u m̀ ӑ
I dropped the half-empty magazine on the floor, pulled a fresh one from the fallen man's pocket, seated it, and headed for the third floor.
Rat-tat-tat-tat!
The moment I approached the third floor, bullets rained in from every direction, as if they had been waiting for me.
The cement walls shattered, and my clothes were now well and truly rags.
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Click, click.
The rifle I had gone to the trouble of bringing had taken a stray bullet and jammed.
E n̂.ůmа
'North Korean gear really can't be trusted.'
I took out one of the two grenades I had looted along the way.
This RGO grenade needed no waiting on a delay fuze, since just pulling the pin and throwing it was enough for the impact to set it off all by itself.
But the instant I pulled the pin, a stray bullet must have struck it.
Ka-boom!
"Nghk!"
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The fist gripping the grenade exploded in a violent flash.
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