Right on Target (TARGET)
Su Heting rummaged through his pants pocket, only to find a crumpled poster inside. He hadn’t brought a handkerchief or tissues, so he could only roughly wipe the blood from his nose with the back of his hand.
The elevator doors were opening—Su Heting had to go.
“Stop crying,” he said casually before handing the poster to the child’s father. “Recruitment for the organization. Welcome to join.”
The father accepted the poster with trembling hands.
Su Heting stood up and stepped out of the elevator.
“Moshi moshi,” he asked in broken Japanese, “Where are you?”
He had barely taken a few steps out of the elevator when the alarm blared through the first-floor lobby. Nearby, the punk band at the reception desk, seemingly high on drugs, became even more frenzied at the sound of the alarm, cranking up their performance to full throttle. The electric guitar and the alarm overlapped in the lobby, creating an instant deafening cacophony.
Xie Zhensu: “I’m in the parking lot on the right.”
Su Heting covered one ear and shouted, “What did you say?”
Xie Zhensu: “…”
He had to raise his voice: “Turn right when you exit. I’ll be waiting in the car.”
Meanwhile, Monk’s alarm was blaring nonstop. He slammed the brakes on the armored vehicle outside the trading hall and pressed the earpiece: “Move, move, everyone move!”
The moment gunfire erupted in the trading hall, the armed team received the alert. The gunmen were engaged in a fierce firefight with the armed team on the third basement level, resembling terrorists.
The trading hall was already surrounded by the armed team. Monk flung the car door open and heard voices shouting through his earpiece.
“Elevator No. 2 is stuck! They’re heading upstairs—target is the Hybrid codenamed ‘Mao’!”
“Take the stairs! Prepare to evacuate survivors. Mao’s safety must be ensured!” Monk fastened his gas mask amid the swirling dust, raised his gun, and forcefully cocked it.
Leading the charge, he barked orders to the armed team members around him, his voice muffled under the mask: “Advance, advance! Listen up—prepare to evacuate survivors!”
Su Heting heard Xie Zhensu’s faint chuckle in his earpiece: “Quite the welcoming party for you.”
The lobby was packed with ordinary survivors, crowded around the service and reception desks, their vigilance drowned out by the music amd oblivious to what was happening.
Su Heting saw the freight elevators on both sides ascending from the third basement level. He raised his hand and shot out the band’s speakers.
“Get down,” he said, and like a villain, firing another shot amid the alarm, shattering the glassware on the counter. “Everyone, get down!”
Screams erupted from the survivors on the scene. Those who didn’t understand the situation scattered in panic, while those who couldn’t drop in time knelt on the ground ans huddling together with their heads in their hands, already sobbing.
It was then that Xie Zhensu asked, “Whose car are you planning to get into?”
Su Heting wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand again. “Isn’t it obvious?”
No sooner had he spoken than he gripped his pistol and fired two shots toward the freight elevators without looking back.
The gunmen inside the freight elevator collapsed before they could step out, blood immediately pooling around them. The elevator doors, blocked by the corpses, kept opening and closing repeatedly.
“Nice shot,” Xie Zhensu praised Su Heting succinctly.
An accomplice of the gunmen remained inside the freight elevator. He kicked the corpses aside and, as he stepped out, raised a submachine gun, spraying bullets across the lobby.
The flashy decor in the lobby exploded one after another, and glass shards flying everywhere. Survivors screamed and scrambled toward the corners in huddled masses.
Su Heting crouched behind the liquor cabinet in the reception area, listening to the continuous "bang, bang, bang" of bottles shattering. The mingled aromas of various liquors filled the air as the spilled alcohol pooled on the floor, mixed with the metallic tang of blood.
The monk had already lowered his stance and rushed to the glass doors of the hall. The gunman, standing sideways, was scanning the area and preparing to fire toward the liquor cabinet. The monk pulled the trigger without hesitation—the bullet struck the gunman squarely in the head, sending him crashing to the ground. The spent shell casing clattered at the monk’s feet.
"Mao, get out here!" The monk, wary of other gunmen in the hall, cautiously pushed the door open and moved stealthily toward the liquor cabinet.
With a forceful kick, he toppled the cabinet, only to find no one behind it—Su Heting had long since fled.
Damn it!
He had said it before—they should have tagged Su Heting with a tracker ant.
Before the monk could speak into his earpiece, the door to the emergency stairwell on the other side suddenly burst open. Gunmen from the third basement level flooded in. A dozen men blocked the stairwell entrance, immediately engaging in a frenzied shootout with the armed team, behaving like madmen with no regard for the survivors.
Bullets whizzed past his ears, forcing the monk to dodge. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Su Heting smashing through a door and bolting.
—This guy had to stay within the armed team’s line of sight!
"Grab him," the monk barked into his earpiece. "Slap a sensor lock on him!"
Su Heting vaulted over the railing with one hand and landed smoothly, just as an armed team member behind an armored vehicle nearby raised his gun and barked, "Get down!"
Raising his hands and slowing his steps, Su Heting spoke into his earpiece, "I’m about to get caught!"
"Stay put," Xie Zenshu’s voice came through. "I’m coming for you."
The next moment, Su Heting heard a deafening roar—like a beast’s snarl—erupting from the right side of the trading floor.
A sleek black sports car kicked up a storm of dust and skimmed the ground as it tore through the trading floor’s security barriers. With an audacious drift, it screeched to a halt right in front of the hall entrance.
"Get in."
The voices inside and outside the earpiece overlapped.
Without hesitation, Su Heting jumped into the car and barely had time to fasten his seatbelt before bullets riddled the left door, the rapid-fire impacts sounding like a sudden downpour. The engine roared back to life, and the car surged forward, defying the armed team’s threats as it sped away.
"Su Heting—!"
The monk’s furious shout faded into the distance.
The car’s interior was icy cold, barely above ten degrees. A hand extended from the side, offering a handkerchief.
"Oh," Su Heting took it and pressed it to his nose before turning to look at the man. "Thanks..."
The man had an utterly ordinary face—so ordinary it was forgettable, the kind that would blend seamlessly into a crowd, even hard to pick out.
But something about it... felt deliberately plain.
Xie Zenshu turned the steering wheel, his voice still unsettling—likely still using a voice modulator.
"Don’t mention it," he said.
The atmosphere in the car grew inexplicably tense. Su Heting kept the handkerchief pressed to his nose as his gaze locked onto Xie Zenshu. His tail rested lazily against his leg, but his entire body was coiled, ready to lunge for control of the car at any second.
He cut straight to the point: "Are you wearing a facial obfuscation filter?"
It was a popular gadget in the trading scene and used by Hybrids who needed anonymity for shady jobs. Su Heting had used one before. But few Hybrids bothered with them—first, because they interfered with vision, and second, because for Hybrids, simply swapping faces was far more convenient.
Xie Zhenshu didn’t answer, which was as good as a tacit agreement. He glanced at the rearview mirror. “They’re catching up.”
Two new-model motorcycles suddenly appeared in the rearview.
The armed team members near the armored vehicle were blocking the road. Upon seeing the motorcycles, they immediately fired warning shots, signaling them to detour. “No passage allowed!”
But the new-model motorcycles were like two heavyweight bulls. Ignoring the armed team’s warnings, they charged straight through the barricade, disregarding the furious curses from the team members. Gripping the handlebars tightly, they roared with explosive noise, speeding straight toward the sports car’s rear.
“Lock down all streets in Zone 03,” Monk roared, kicking the trash can in front of him in anger. He pressed the earpiece. “Arrest these lawless bastards!”
The new-model motorcycles vaulted over the armed team’s anti-explosive barriers and landed from a height of one meter before accelerating again.
They were professionally trained and worked in perfect sync, splitting to flank the sports car from both sides. One of them swerved sharply before slamming into the sports car’s rear from an angle.
Xie Zhenshu switched the sports car’s driving mode.
The deep bass of the sports car’s engine instantly surged, and the car shot forward like an arrow from a bowstring, abruptly widening the gap between itself and the motorcycles. The intense acceleration pressed Su Heting back into his seat, sending his adrenaline soaring and his heart pounding wildly.
Dusk was approaching, and the streets near the trading district were packed with vehicles. The web-like overpasses were filled with honking, and the lights along the crowded commercial streets were already flickering to life.
The display screen on the rooftop plaza burst with countless fireworks, and a massive hologram of a commercial celebrity instantly covered the surrounding buildings.
“The nightlife of the city,” the virtual celebrity said before flashing a thumbs-up, “is all here in the trading district—”
The armed team’s aircraft zipped through the dense overpasses with lights flashing as it swooped down and sirens blaring as it chased after the new-model motorcycles.
“Pull over!” the aircraft’s electronic voice warned. “Danger! Pull over!”
Neither party ahead paid any heed. The bikers swerved onto the left and right lanes, like sheepdogs herding a flock, forcing the surrounding vehicles to squeeze toward the center.
A six-seater vintage family car on the left panicked in the high-speed chase, swerving sharply to the right and scraping against the sports car.
Xie Zhenshu handled the steering wheel with precision, weaving through traffic with remarkable ease. Even when sideswiped, he remained unflappable. The car accelerated relentlessly in the narrowing lanes, like a furious beast.
From Su Heting’s first-person perspective, every evasive maneuver blurred into afterimages. A few times, he suspected the rearview mirrors had already been knocked off. He wanted to say something to ease Xie Zhenshu’s tension—and his own—but before he could speak, the car was sideswiped again on the right.
The tires screeched against the pavement. Su Heting’s back lifted from the seat before slamming back down.
After a long pause, he finally managed to blurt out, “Where are we going?”
“The thieves’ den,” Xie Zhenshu replied casually, his tone completely at odds with the situation.
Su Heting tossed aside the handkerchief. “Fine, this area is my—”
Xie Zhenshu suddenly yanked the steering wheel and braking sharply as the car turned left, blocking half the road. The pursuing motorcycles had no time to react, and the family cars on either side slammed on their brakes.
Xie Zhenshu’s expression didn’t change. “Let me show you a magic trick too.”
As soon as he spoke, he floored the accelerator. The car roared forward, crashing through the guardrail in an instant.
Whoosh—
The sports car clattered over the gap in the overpass, launching into the air with a jolt.
Su Heting watched helplessly as the celebrity projection—whose name he couldn’t even recall—loomed larger and larger in the windshield, and the neon-lit sprawl of the Black Market stretched beneath them.
Whoa.
"Fuck—" he said.
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