The scorched air stung the back of my throat the moment I stepped inside.
There was no trace left of the Rainburg Manor I’d visited just the other day—the glossy floors and orderly sculptures were gone. Countless bullet holes scarred the walls, splattered blood had already begun to darken, and the once-opulent decorations had been reduced to unrecognizable heaps of rubble. My boots crunched through shattered glass with every step.
It was ironic how quickly a luxury estate could be transformed into a war zone.
Roselia and I took the lead, with several squad members trailing behind us. Some of the others had split off to rendezvous with the perimeter teams. Our job was internal rescue and suppression—essentially, we were the ones tasked with doing the dirty work.
Gunshots echoed from deeper within the building. Roselia’s eyes darted toward the sound, and she gave a sharp flick of her chin.
"In the back. Let’s move."
She was running before the words were even out of her mouth. Kicking through the brass shell casings scattered across the floor, I followed.
We emerged into a Grand Hall that vaulted three stories high. The air shimmered with oppressive heat as columns of black smoke rose toward the ceiling. A squad member lay slumped behind a pillar; his Armored Suit was scorched and seeped blood. He was breathing heavily, but he was still alive.
The moment we confirmed he was breathing, a hail of bullets sprayed toward us from the far end of the hall. We dove behind a pillar just as one of the men providing cover fire looked up. His cheeks were smeared with soot, his expression frantic.
"Captain…! Thank god. Communications are completely dead. We couldn't get a status report out…"
Roselia let out a low growl. "Jamming, huh? Typical. What a pain."
Another volley of bullets rained down like a storm. Shrapnel flew everywhere as the marble pillar beside us began to disintegrate under the impact. Roselia reached out and shoved the squad member's shoulder, forcing him to stay low.
"Wait… why is their fire so sloppy?" she muttered.
I was feeling the same thing. Something was off. Their attacks felt half-hearted. Even though we had casualties, their shooting was erratic, almost as if they weren't actually trying to hit us.
When I looked toward a young officer hunkered down behind cover, he gritted his teeth.
"We ran their personal data through the offline database," he said, his voice trembling. "The results… they're 'Young Ladies' from the Upper District."
"What?" Roselia blurted out.
I leaned out slightly from behind the pillar to see for myself. The figures pointing their guns at us were indeed wearing Combat Suits, but their stances, their faces, and their movements weren't those of trained soldiers. There was a jarring stiffness to them, as if their bodies were being puppeteered against their will. They had the kind of faces that belonged in high society, holding wine glasses, not rifles.
There were five of them.
"The ID check is unmistakable. They’re the daughters of influential figures in the Council. We… we couldn't make the call to return fire."
His voice was bitter. I couldn't blame him. Shooting them would spark a massive political scandal. But if we didn't do something, we were going to die.
Roselia clicked her tongue. She pulled up her terminal to verify the data, and a deep furrow formed between her brows.
"I see. One of them is a Council member's daughter. If we have to suppress them without killing them…"
As she trailed off, I peered through the gap in the pillar again. Hmm. I see.
"I can handle this," I said.
"Huh?" Roselia turned to me, her expression skeptical.
"Roselia, I’ve got a plan. Just draw their fire for a second."
the surrounding squad members gasped, but Roselia merely smirked and patted her chest.
"Hah, is that so? Fine then. Show me what you've got."
In response, I drew my small-caliber handgun from its holster. I racked the slide, the mechanical click of the chambering round sounding crisp in the chaos.
"I'll leave the timing to you."
Roselia nodded, took a deep breath, and lunged out like a predator.
"Hraaaaaah!"
At her roar, the five girls reacted instantly. They opened fire in unison, their combined muzzle flashes creating a torrent of light that seemed to swallow Roselia.
The "things" that had been obscured by the cover finally showed themselves as they leaned out to fire. My eyes, however, weren't looking at the girls. I was looking "above" their heads.
The Speech Bubbles.
It was a phenomenon I was intimately familiar with. They hadn't appeared over the enemies outside, but for some reason, they were floating here. Transparent, glass-like bubbles that exposed the screams within their minds.
NO. WHY? HELP ME.
They were weeping and screaming in their hearts. Their faces might have been expressionless, but inside, it was pure agony.
I raised my muzzle and aligned the sights with the Speech Bubbles. I pulled the trigger.
Pop.
The bullet tore through the air. The moment it struck a Speech Bubble, the bubble shattered. With a sound like breaking glass, one of the women collapsed instantly.
I fired again and again.
Two, three, four shots.
The Speech Bubbles shattered in sequence, and the sound of falling bodies followed like a chain reaction. The rain of sparks in front of Roselia died away. When the last girl fell, the hall was plunged into silence. The scent of cordite mingled with the stench of singed carpet.
Roselia turned back to me, huffing a laugh. "Not bad, kid. What did you do?"
I shrugged, gave the gun a quick twirl, and holstered it. The glittering remnants of the Speech Bubbles melted away into the air. I don't usually use this method because I'm usually too busy blowing things up, but it comes in handy for situations like this.
When their Speech Bubbles are destroyed, they lose consciousness. The first time I discovered this, I had the Doctor check the subject. He said it was a faint brought on by a massive psychological shock. They always made a full recovery with no lasting side effects. Pretty convenient, right?
I walked over to the fallen women and checked their necks. I was able to extract the chips easily.
Oh, these didn't self-destruct?
Looking them over, they had some muscle tearing from the forced movements, but no major external injuries. I wondered if the trigger for the chip's self-destruction was tied to the nanomachines' operational status or something else.
Either way, it didn't matter. The important thing—based on what I saw in those bubbles—was that they hadn't been shooting of their own free will.
Roselia looked at the chip in my hand and spat on the floor.
"I knew it. Those Vira Corp bastards are behind this."
I nodded, looking down at the "Young Ladies." With their eyes closed and their faces peaceful, they looked like they were simply napping in the safety of their own homes.