Special Meal, Gangster
*
This was a field strictly managed by both the city government and the board.
It was an issue that could potentially collapse the entire social infrastructure.
In a society where a basic income system was implemented, identity equaled budget.
The more money leaked, the more inflation was bound to occur.
Humanity had previously suffered such consequences due to lax management.
The hyperinflation of 2246 was a prime example.
Thanks to the belated implementation of a monetary tightening policy, the immediate crisis was averted, but risk factors still lingered.
Even as we entered the 2300s, prices remained close to those of the early 2000s due to the aftermath of such a sweeping event.
Device extraction was a grave sin that even megacorps couldn't avoid.
However, the benefits gained were predetermined, and even the most fallen criminal organizations rarely chose this path.
It was then that he sensed a presence behind him.
“Well, look who it is. Isn’t it the rookie fixer?”
Baek Ga-on turned his head faster than the voice reached him and uttered the name of the person before him.
“Gesto.”
From the moment he entered the underground, this meeting was inevitable.
“You’ve seen something you shouldn’t have.”
“I’ve already reported it to the police.”
“Heh, do you think they’d come all the way here? Do you even know where this equipment came from?”
He had already guessed. His probing words were merely a formality to confirm Gesto’s reaction. In reality, he hadn’t reported anything.
“Well, I suppose it’s a story too difficult for a mere fixer to understand.”
No, he understood. It wasn’t just that the police were involved; they were leading the charge. The Pyre Gang was merely a tool to project their will. It was clear what kind of deals had transpired. It was a wise decision not to act rashly. Otherwise, he might have had to fight corrupt police as well.
While Ga-on quietly assessed the situation, Gesto saw it differently. It seemed as if Ga-on was flustered, as if he had stepped into an unexpected trap and was startled like a rabbit.
The warning he had received at the unlicensed clinic suddenly came to mind, and it was no coincidence.
“I told you before, if we meet again, it’ll be your funeral…”
“What are you babbling about, you idiot?”
Finding Gesto's threats laughable, Ga-on didn't hesitate to draw his pistol and fire.
A triple tap aimed at the forehead, chest, and abdomen.
Despite the rapid succession of shots, all that came from the muzzle was a faint sound.
What he had purchased from the gun shop yesterday was a masterpiece crafted by 'Fundamental Rock,' a megacorp standing shoulder to shoulder with Seven Metal.
Although the barrel was slightly longer than a typical handgun, it wasn't particularly powerful.
The increased size was due to the barrel design accommodating both a flash suppressor and a silencer.
Nicknamed the world's quietest pistol, the gunfire was controlled to an astonishing level of 20dB, as gentle as the ticking of a clock.
Hence, it was named the Clock.
"How cute. Did you really think that would work?"
Despite the sudden gunfire, Gesto didn't die.
He was a member of the Street Gang, notorious for their roughness even in the underworld.
He had to live with constant threats to his life.
Reinforcing vital points with a slot was nothing special.
Gesto licked the blood flowing from his torn forehead and pulled the trigger of his sawed-off shotgun.
Boom!
In an instant, as if a bomb had exploded, the fan-shaped spread of metal pellets tore through the room. As Ga-on quickly took cover behind a life support device, the gangsters entered, having heard the gunfire.
“Boss?”
“Intruder. Handle it as we practiced.”
A clear and concise explanation. At Gesto’s execution order, the gang members scattered to their positions. The light in the control room vanished at that moment. The perfectly controlled interior was as dark as pitch, indistinguishable from having one’s eyes open or closed.
“You have nowhere to run.”
Only Gesto's voice echoed clearly before fading away.
It seemed he had confirmed there was no equipment to see through the darkness and acted accordingly.
This way, their side would suffer minimal damage, making it a suitable tactic.
Trapped in a hostile, confined space, Ga-on calculated in his mind.
Eighteen people had exited the three vans.
After accounting for the five kidnapped, thirteen remained.
The Clock originally held 16 rounds, but after using three on Gesto, 13 were left.
Both numbers matched perfectly.
So—
'I won't need to change the magazine.'
Although it required hitting every target, that posed no restriction.
The approaching footsteps stopped at that moment.
Bang!
The first shot fired without warning, and the muzzle flash briefly illuminated the surroundings.
Though it lasted only milliseconds, it was enough to distinguish friend from foe.
Having memorized the positions of the gangsters, Ga-on dodged incoming bullets and returned fire.
Click.
“Ugh.”
With a scream, the room became chaotic.
They hadn't expected a successful counterattack.
The sound of hurriedly changing cover echoed from all directions, but it was futile.
This wasn't an open field; it was a storage room with life support devices neatly arranged in rows and columns.
There were limited places to hide.
No matter how vast a Go board is, the places to place stones are finite.
Moreover, every time they indiscriminately fired in their determination to punish, the surroundings lit up.
Even if they moved, continuously providing such clues made it easy to deduce their positions.
Having pinpointed the gangsters' locations in real-time, Ga-on pulled the trigger before they could move again.
Now aware of the existence of meta-humans, he had to avoid exploiting the advantage of not dying like before.
If he acted rashly, he'd be caught.
If it could be concealed, he would conceal it.
That was Ga-on's newly established policy.
There was no need for drastic measures.
The gangsters sprawled on the floor hadn't managed to inflict any significant damage on Ga-on.
Just in time, there was one bullet left.
And only one person remained.
Thud.
A heavy vibration traversed the entire storage room, announcing its presence. Even without looking, the overwhelming heat radiated from the front was palpable. Ga-on, who had come forward without hiding, smirked.
“Is this all the show you’ve prepared for me? No, it’s not even a show, considering it’s neither interesting nor entertaining.”
“You bastard…”
As the shotgun fired again, Ga-on leaped high. Throwing himself outside the scattering sparks, his muzzle turned towards Gesto.
Click.
It was a shot aimed at the neck, but Gesto saw it clearly in that moment.
The time it takes for a human to react to external stimuli is, on average, 0.3 seconds.
With training, that record can be reduced, but only to 0.1 seconds.
Beyond that is a point humans cannot reach.
But Gesto had sacrificed his body to break that limit.
He forcibly inserted a device illegally modified to push its performance to the extreme.
Slot, Face Up.
The chip embedded in his brain stimulated his nerve endings, breaking the 0.1-second barrier.
Seeing Ga-on approach, he judged it too late to use the sawed-off shotgun and discarded it.
As Gesto clenched his fist, the unit, Rage, clinging to his trapezius like an exoskeleton, writhed.
Swoosh.
As the cylindrical flask embedded deep within his body surged, his muscles swelled to the point of tearing.
Mental elevation, pain suppression, and muscle stimulation.
The functions embedded in Rage were solely prepared to annihilate the enemy before him.
Having gained the strength to break concrete walls with his bare hands, Gesto swung his arm.
Without any decent protective gear, this should be the end.
Crack.
But contrary to his expectations, the sound of breaking came not from his opponent but from his own forearm, leaving Gesto in shock.
"Elbow?"
As he said, it was Ga-on's elbow, suddenly thrust, that crushed his fist.
It was an unexpected counterattack, but Gesto didn't care and swung his other arm like a whip.
A combination of one-two, hook, and straight punches.
The boxing techniques he learned while struggling on the streets were unleashed without reservation, but the scales that had tipped once showed no sign of returning.
Instead, the gap only widened as time went on.
Come to think of it, his reaction speed was a step beyond that of an ordinary person.
Yet, to still respond—
"Ugh."
Gesto's thoughts were cut short.
Ga-on, who had swiftly closed in, leaped up and kneed him in the chin.
It was only natural that he fell backward unceremoniously.
There should have been no pain, yet the shock reverberating through his bones left him unable to regain his senses.
It wasn't that Gesto hadn't encountered fixers before.
But most were human debris, indistinguishable from criminals.
Only a handful could be considered the roots supporting the industry, comparable to the elite talents on the megacorp's fast track.
In Gesto's eyes, Ga-on was one of those few.
"What could possibly make you roam the underworld?"
"The fact that trash like you exists in this world."
Despite Gesto's struggles to push Ga-on off his chest, he couldn't succeed for some reason.
There was no need to ponder.
His jaw, which had been moving fine until a moment ago, had just dropped.
"Rejoice. I've just realized I had loaded a bullet in the chamber."
The preloaded rounds were not 16 but 17.
One more than the specifications.
Where it should be used was obvious.
"It's a special meal, gangster."
Forcing the muzzle into Gesto's mouth, Ga-on—
Click.
Spent the last bullet.
*
Exiting the storage room, Ga-on immediately began his search.
Having identified the device extraction, there was no time to waste.
Fortunately, the surgical room was nearby, as if they had wanted to minimize movement from the start.
Pushing open the sliding door and entering, he saw a man lying on the operating table.
It seemed they had just begun, as his device appeared intact.
"Gesto?" A nervous voice sounded then.
The old man, who seemed to be the doctor, clicked his tongue without even turning around.
His posture was utterly disrespectful.
Not just his tone, but his entire attitude.
He wasn't wearing a mask, nor did he have latex gloves on.
A half-wit lacking even the basic decency of a doctor.
"Didn't I tell you not to come in during surgery? Do you find my words so laughable? Without me, there wouldn't be anyone willing to team up with scum like you."
Yet, his arrogance was on par with any hospital director.
Even amidst the commotion, he remained steadfast, holding his ground.
Of course, now that courage worked against him.
The one who entered wasn't an ally but an unwelcome guest.
"You… huh."
The old man, belatedly noticing Ga-on, widened his eyes, and the blood splattered on the wall almost simultaneously.
Click.
Dialogue was unnecessary for the series of events.
