The distorted screech of megaphones tore through North District's silence like a dull knife sawing at my eardrums.
I hid my electric bike deep in an alley, pressing against crumbling walls as I inched toward the derelict square. Du Qiang's voice, amplified to grotesque levels, dripped with venomous glee:
"Behold! Your precious 'Human Map'! She doesn't save lives—she murders acquaintances!"
Peering around the corner, my stomach dropped.
Auntie Wang.
Tied to the rusted flagpole at the square's center. Head bowed. Wearing that faded blue smock I'd brought her last week.
The crowd undulated like a dark tide at the edges. Torchlight flickered over faces—some screaming "Burn her!", most silent. Their silence chilled me more than the shouts.
These were people she'd fed. People who'd survived using her hand-drawn maps. Now Du Qiang's doctored video had erased all that goodwill.
Convenience Store Backroom
The door creaked as I slipped inside. Lao Zhao and Xiao Zhou crouched behind shelves of expired cans.
"Wanzhao—"Lao Zhao's fists clenched, nails biting palms. "They've got guns. We can't—"
Xiao Zhou nodded, white-knuckling a wrench behind his back. Pathetic against firearms.
"They don't want her dead," I said, watching Du Qiang preen through grimy glass. "They want me to show myself."
Killing a defenseless old woman would make him a villain.
But capturing me publicly? That'd crown him North District's new king.
I yanked off my signature delivery jacket.
"Wanzhao?!"
From my pack came a wrinkled white coat—Zhou Pei'en's, stolen after the boiler room ambush. The dried bloodstains were perfect.
"Listen close," I said, strapping on a medical kit. "When I move, follow. Grab Auntie Wang. Don't speak. Don't hesitate."
Execution Square
I kicked open the door and strode straight into the mob.
"MAKE WAY!" My voice cut like surgical steel. *"East District Quarantine Team! Wang Shufen is a Category 4 biohazard—immediate transfer required!"*
Using her formal name plus "biohazard" worked like magic. The crowd recoiled.
Du Qiang's jaw dropped. His armed thugs hesitated.
Three strides to the flagpole. Surgical scissors flashed.
"Play dead,"I breathed as the ropes fell.
Auntie Wang—bless her survival instincts—collapsed like a marionette with cut strings.
"Orderlies! NOW!"
Lao Zhao and Xiao Zhou barreled through, hauling her toward the periphery as the crowd stirred.
"SHOOT THEM!"Du Qiang finally roared.
Too late.
The smoke grenade from my kit's false bottom hit the pavement with a crack-hiss.
Acrid fog swallowed the square. Coughing. Screaming. Du Qiang's incoherent rage.
By the time the first blind gunshot rang out, I was already ghosting down an alley.
This city owed too many debts.
Time to collect.
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