"Good news. We've finally got a lead on the narcotics production site you were looking for."
Ignis had come to inspect the newly manufactured cannon-shell samples—and the moment they met, Markus "Lightning" Red immediately brought up the matter of the "Fantasy" production site.
"It's inside a power plant in the Vulcan District. A big one—supplies a quarter of the district's industrial electricity."
Making narcotics inside a power plant?
Ignis loaded the freshly filled drum magazine of canister rounds into the autocannon, chambering a round with a resounding metallic clank. Seeing him prepare to fire, Markus hurriedly put on his noise-blocking headset.
"Is the intel reliable?" Ignis shouldered the autocannon. He had recently modified it—converted from semi-auto to full automatic. Now it was a true automatic cannon. His power armor's targeting assist locked onto five human-shaped targets, spaced tightly together at ten meters.
His finger pressed the firing stud—striker hitting the primer—and 40mm shells expelled torrents of steel shot. The five targets were shredded instantly, torn apart like paper in a blender. And Ignis did not stop; he ran a full five-round long burst. The targets were reduced to nearly nothing, and the range floor was badly damaged.
When Ignis finally ceased fire, Markus whistled, removed his headset, and asked, "Well? Satisfied? Built exactly to your specs."
"Quite good. I can already picture enemies being blown apart." Ignis detached the drum magazine. "I might have ideas later for flechette rounds. Interested in taking that order?"
"Honestly, I can't imagine what a forty-millimeter flechette is supposed to be used on. What kind of soft target could survive that storm? Afraid a pile of meat might get back up?" Markus pointed at another drum. "This one's your sub-caliber armor piercing rounds. We tested it—five hundred meters, penetrates one-hundred-thirty-millimeter RHA at a forty-five-degree angle."
"I read the report. Excellent performance. Ether alloy strength really is astonishing." Ignis locked that AP drum onto a magnetic mount on his thigh plate.
"I really want to know what you're planning to fight with these. The Cunning Hares haven't expanded business to large-scale Ethereal extermination. Is this some form of pre-deployment for a new commercial territory? Want me to get you some high-value Ethereal bounties—direct, bypassing official channels?" Markus fluffed his violet explosion-shaped hair, openly soliciting business.
"Some things that may not be easy to kill." Ignis reattached the autocannon to his waist rig. "Back to the plant—how does a power plant become a narcotics facility?"
"It's a thermoelectric plant. Fuel is an Ether-hybrid mixture, so it has several giant storage warehouses." Markus pulled out a photo—clearly taken by drone. "Warehouse 6 is officially listed as emergency fuel storage, but drones observed night-time deliveries—looked like raw materials. And they move product out later to trade with other gangs."
"Vulcan District's Public Security Bureau has been monitoring them a long time. But for certain… unspeakable reasons, they can't act directly." Markus removed his oversized laser-frame sunglasses, exposing a pair of resolute gray eyes. "My higher-ups plan to take action themselves. And the district's Public Security Bureau is willing to quietly cooperate."
"This plant involves political complications? The New Eridu City Council shielding narcotics?" Ignis's voice dropped—like a beast warning intruders to back away.
"The City Council wouldn't get its hands that dirty. But the plant belongs to a subsidiary of the TOPS Alliance. And you know how megacorps are—they'll grab money wherever possible. If something blows up, they just sever the subsidiary and wash their hands." Markus spat on the ground. "Subordinate achievements are a superior's achievements. A superior's mistakes are subordinates' mistakes. Utter garbage. Those people who say 'Don't worry, I've got your back'—they have ten thousand ways to shove the blame onto you."
Given his expression, Markus had clearly carried such blame before—enough to end up working the black market.
"These corporations don't directly control the City Council, but they have enough connections. If Public Security acted openly, the procedural backlash afterward would be hell. If Public Security ignored procedure and struck first, the corp would mobilize its media—sponsored media—to frame it as state abuse of citizen rights."
"So this time, they're handing it to people like us who specialize in dirty work—see if we can obtain evidence."
Markus turned his back to Ignis. "Well? Interested? There's pay. If evidence is secured, every participant gets a large payout."
"Of course. And we're working with Jaxcalibur again?" Ignis was more than interested. Even without pay, he would have gone—this matter contained a stain that had to be erased.
"My best team—of course it's them." Markus glanced sideways. "And I should thank you. Last time, you saved my people. I'll need you to protect them again."
Ignis struck his right fist twice against his chestplate. "When do we deploy?"
Seeing the giant's eagerness, Markus looked up at him. "I don't quite get it. Your file says you appeared in this city out of nowhere, but you're dedicated to helping people. Is there a reason? Morality or discipline?"
"Self-reliance, self-sacrifice, and absolute loyalty." Ignis recited the creed of the Promethean Cult. "My faith demands these three. I didn't understand them before. Now I understand part of it—and I'm practicing it."
"A religious reason? I thought the only religions left here were those Hollow-worshipping lunatics." Markus shifted back to the mission. "Overall, the operation has two goals. Primary:completely destroy the narcotics plant and obtain evidence. Secondary:if destruction is impossible, collect enough evidence and withdraw. The Vulcan District Security Bureau will remain silent throughout. That's the extent of their support."
"Withdraw? Their defenses are that heavy?" Ignis was puzzled. The Jaxcalibur Team wasn't weak—strange that withdrawal was expected.
"Narcotics is incredibly profitable. Lots of eyes on it." Markus displayed more photos—scenes of armed conflict.
One side wielded melee weapons, Molotovs, and a few crude guns—street gangs, clearly. They were fleeing in panic. Their pursuers, however, were another gang—garish outfits, bizarre hairstyles—but their weaponry was far too good: real rifles, and machine guns blazing from concealed nests. Several close-combat fighters wielded Ether Greatblades from the Defense Forces' active inventory, cutting men down.
The next photos were even more alarming—likely taken by a micro-drone that had slipped into Warehouse 6.
Inside were dozens of soldiers in real combat uniforms—professionally trained. In one corner stood several fully activated Guardian-class Tactical Assault Mechs.
Given Jaxcalibur Team's firepower, destroying them outright was unrealistic. They would have to create a diversion, infiltrate, and steal evidence.
With evidence in hand, Public Security Bureau could intervene. If the enemy used tactical mechs in response, the situation would escalate from anti-gang to counterinsurgency—and the Defense Forces would enter the field.
But if the Defense Forces deployed, incriminating evidence in the plant would almost certainly get destroyed during the firefight.
If they could seize documents or data drives through a rapid assault, investigators could follow the trail upward to the power-holders—or downward to distributors—and nail every last one.
But with Ignis—a literal heavy unit—in the lineup… could this still be called infiltration? It was clearly going to become an assault. Ignis would handle enemy heavy units and massed targets; Jaxcalibur would search for evidence and provide multi-directional support.
"When do we depart?" Ignis checked his ammo and fuel reserves—enough for a full engagement. "I recovered recently. I want to see whether I've gotten rusty."
"Tonight. I'll have Jaxcalibur link up with you." Markus pulled out his phone and transferred a seven-figure advance. "Deposit. There's more upon completion."
Ignis looked at the money—his motorcycle dream was one step closer. Not that it mattered; the money would end up being spent with Markus anyway.
Money earned from the black market, gets spent in the black market—not a credit coming home.
Ignis walked out to Gray Street. Billy waited with the truck.
"We're eating big tonight." Before the curious Intelligent Construct could ask, Ignis cut him off. "A major contract. We deploy tonight."
"You're blowing something up again?" Billy already guessed. "Markus hired you? You really should report to Nicole."
"I will." Ignis climbed into the cargo bay of the truck.