[TN: Hello, my beautiful peeps, I'm back, I just finished moving into my new dorms and have everything set up here. The first chapter of the week]
Landmine!
Thick smoke and flames instantly swallowed the area in front of the door, and Gloria lost consciousness in an instant.
Her sense of time became blurred — it felt like a year had passed, and yet also like just a second. But when she regained consciousness, she was no longer in the same spot!
The explosion was no longer directly ahead of her, but to her front-left, and much farther away.
She looked toward her son — David was standing right in front of her, back toward the blast site.
"David"
But before she could finish, a violent wave of nausea hit her!
The shockwave and the intense, high-speed movement had displaced her internal organs in unexpected ways; her body couldn't handle that kind of stress!
David grabbed his mother's arm with one hand while his other hand gripped a pistol tightly.
It didn't feel like the mine was meant for him, but he had opened the door.
He had no idea if whoever set the mine was after him.
Gloria forced herself to look up despite the nausea, ready to tell David to run but then she saw, as David turned slightly, that his clothes had been completely burned away, his skin raw and bloody
Revealing the advanced military-grade cyberware on his back.
For a moment, Gloria froze. Her son suddenly felt an unfamiliar feeling.
This was her first time since she became a mother; she didn't yet know that this feeling was simply "realizing your child has grown up."
Powerful military cyberware, a skilled grip on the gun, a body poised with strength… even his build had grown noticeably.
The David in front of her was no longer the same quiet, studious David.
The old David, despite being a bit rebellious, was still a good student.
Now he looked much more mature and steady, but inside, his whole body was combat machinery!
His Sandevistan finished its self-check, hissing faintly with white smoke—
His skin was burned, but the military-grade spinal core was undamaged.
The blast had completely wrecked the apartment door. Other residents in the megabuilding scattered, though a few troublemakers peeked over the railing with their optical cyberware, recording everything.
David slowly backed away with his mother, eyes locked on the smoking doorway.
There were people inside — more than just the two he'd seen earlier.
When he'd activated his Sandevistan, David had clearly heard another set of footsteps.
From the sound, this person moved quickly, smoothly, with the clean precision of professional training.
Who was it?
"Petro!"
Diaz's voice cut through the smoke.
A landmine's shockwave and blinding flash rob anyone in front of it of their senses.
Diaz's world was spinning, everything wwas hite, no sense of direction.
The voice sounded ragged, with a heavy electronic edge — the blast had likely damaged his voice module.
Such voiceboxes were standard for Trauma Team operatives, who often stormed battlefields to rescue clients. Synthetic vocal cords had broad utility.
Through the smoke, the shout told David that Diaz had been blown back into the apartment.
As for the woman — Petro, the one Diaz kept calling for — there was no sound from her.
Hiss—
The fire suppression system activated. As the smoke cleared, David could finally see inside.
Diaz's face was covered in blood, one arm pinned under him, his body half-twisted, bleeding badly, eyes closed — though even if he opened them, it wouldn't matter. There must have been a flashbang mixed in with the explosion, flooding the area with light and shock. Surviving was already a miracle; his vision and hearing systems were definitely destroyed.
Panic was etched on his face — with his sensory systems down, all he had was darkness.
His clothes were torn open, skin still red-hot from burns, warped flesh fused with damaged cyberware.
Yet he kept calling the woman's name — clearly, their relationship was not ordinary.
Petro lay motionless nearby, only her arm twitching faintly — it was impossible to tell if she was alive.
Beside her crouched a man in similar Trauma Team gear — but wearing full combat armor.
His helmet's warning lights flashed red. The Trauma Team logo had been crudely painted over with abstract graffiti.
In his hands were two personal cables — one connected to Diaz's neck, the other to Petro's.
"One dead… one alive." He withdrew the cables, stood, and looked down at Petro, raising his gun.
It was a Kang Tao submachine gun — clearly, all his equipment was Trauma Team-issue.
Only elite operatives averaging over 15 work hours per day were allowed to carry full armament off-duty.
When he retracted the cables, all the red warning lights on his gear and weapons went dark, switching to normal operation.
"Roswald?" Diaz recognized the voice nearby, anger and disbelief mixing. "What are you doing? That merc over there—"
"I'm treating you. You're sick." Karnek's voice was calm, even normal — but his actions weren't.
Tat-tat-tat!
At point-blank range, the smartgun's bullets hit Petro's body without missing, striking from every direction.
Her body jerked with each impact, then went still.
The blood spray was low, but it spread fast across the floor.
Diaz's hand brushed against the warm liquid in the dark, and his rage evaporated instantly.
"What… what did you do—"
Whoosh!
The smoke was blasted away by the fire suppression vents. Outside, the roar of an approaching AV grew loud.
Diaz's voice shook: "The company won't let you get away with this… and—"
Karnek holstered his gear, speaking evenly: "Trauma Team will. I just bought a Platinum Plan — with your money."
"You're fucking kidding me—"
Karnek glanced at his cyber-eye clock. "Two seconds until you get a command from Central Dispatch telling you to evac me."
Diaz froze. Then his visual feed began to return — patchy, pixelated.
A notification window popped up in his HUD:
[Trauma Team Dispatch: Megabuilding H4, Platinum Member.]
[Client: Karnek Roswald]
[Symptoms: Cyberware malfunction]
What the hell?!
Diaz's synthetic eyes leaked fluid through cracked casings, like tears.
This bastard had ambushed them, and they were on official duty!
Now the company was ordering him to save the guy?!
Karnek's calm voice cut in: "This is cyberpsychosis. My cyberware can't display proper function data anymore."
He crouched, pulled Diaz's folded submachine gun from his leg pocket, unfolded it, and placed it back in Diaz's hand.
The moment Diaz gripped it, the smartlink went live — red targeting light turning green.
Karnek raised the barrel to his own head.
"You were close to her. I killed her. Can you kill me?"
Can you?
Can you?
Lock-on reticles flashed in Diaz's HUD — then vanished, replaced with error windows.
[Lock target — Hit probability…]
[Error: Target is client.]
[Lock target — Hit probability…]
[Error: Target is client. Use non-lethal methods.]
[Error…]
Diaz's mind pounded with each error. Pain shot through his nerves —
He clenched his jaw so hard his teeth could sink into the gums — but the smart targeting wouldn't let him fire.
It wasn't just his cyberware malfunctioning — his whole world was wrong!
His finger couldn't pull the trigger.
"That's the real sickness," Karnek said, letting go of Diaz's hand.
"AAAAHHHHH!"
Diaz screamed, unstable currents surging through his broken cyberware, his voice breaking apart — but still, the trigger refused to move.
He only shredded his synthetic voice further — firing was impossible.
Karnek walked out without looking back, finding himself face-to-face with a tense David.
David stepped back slowly, and the cyberpsycho just passed him.
If you hadn't seen it happen, you'd never guess Karnek was a cyberpsycho.
David watched his back disappear, finally letting out a breath.
[Leo: Get your mom home. We need to track this cyberpsycho.]
[Leo: Pull out fast. I think this nutcase has more in the works.]
Whoosh—
The AV roared closer, its sound swelling.