5. Fear

5. Fear

Before the gunshot rang out, Blanca had brushed back her hair. But when she actually drew her gun and took out the Corpo Dog in front of her with a single shot, Carl still froze for a moment.

He hadn't expected his employer to be so decisive, drawing her gun the moment they disagreed.

Someone was threatening her and had evidence against her. What should she do?

Kill him. Simple as that.

Using force to make her point—Blanca had clearly grasped the true essence of office politics. Based on that alone, Carl had to admit that Juanito, who had spent all that time yapping, was completely inferior to his employer. There was a reason she held a higher position in the company than he did.

After that brief surprise at his employer's decisiveness, Carl moved quickly too.

His employer had fired, so of course he had to fire as well.

As he fired, Carl came to a realization. It seemed he had misunderstood his employer. Earlier, she had said there were ten enemies, but when they got here and the numbers didn't match, he had thought her intel was wrong. Now it seemed there were indeed exactly ten of them.

Blanca had planned to kill Juanito from the beginning. The reason she had been willing to listen to all that nonsense and seemingly negotiate with him was probably just to confirm where her evidence had leaked from.

The moment Juanito fell, Maelstrom members had already reacted and reached for their guns. Their weapons had never even had their safeties on; they needed only a second to turn Carl and Blanca into Swiss cheese. But while they drew fast, they weren't faster than Carl.

Carl had watched quite a few braindances at home these past few days. There was one he particularly liked and had watched twice, called "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly."

From it, Carl had learned America's traditional quick-draw technique.

The gunfire was so dense it sounded like a single shot. After that one report, seven Maelstrom members fell.

The Kenshin's magazine held twelve rounds. Carl hadn't run out of bullets and become unable to fire; he had fired seven shots in one breath, and his hand could no longer withstand the recoil, causing the gun to fly from his grip.

Though the Kenshin was a tech pistol with little recoil, it didn't have none at all. Seven consecutive shots would make even a modified person's palm go numb, let alone Carl, a lightly modified merc who didn't even have cyberware like Reinforced Tendons installed.

But losing his gun didn't mean Carl couldn't deal with those Maelstrom members before they fired.

From the wrists of Carl's now-empty hands, two vein-like wires emerged, each caught precisely between his index and middle fingers.

Monomolecular Wire was a single-strand cutting wire shaped like a long whip, its edge only one molecule wide. When fully charged, it also carried considerable heat. It was beloved by netrunners because, besides serving as a weapon, it could also be used as a hacking tool.

Put simply, it was a close-range weapon with the length of a whip, the sharpness of a flexible sword, and hacking capabilities. It was also the second piece of cyberware Carl had gotten from Old Vic after spending every Eurodollar he had saved.

Carl flicked both hands. The three Maelstrom members he had deliberately saved for last—the ones closest to him—had only drawn their guns halfway before their movements stopped.

"Whoosh."

Carl reeled in the Monomolecular Wire, then bent slightly and caught his Kenshin Pistol before it hit the ground.

"Splat!"

The instant Carl touched his pistol, blood burst from the waists and arms of the three Maelstrom members he hadn't shot in the head. Then, smooth cross-sections exposed, their severed heads and thighs crashed to the floor alongside their bisected bodies.

"Looks like I have to do laundry again."

To ensure he could take someone out instantly, something always had to be sacrificed. Looking at his clothes soaked in blood, Carl sighed. He had no idea how terrifying he looked to others right now.

Blanca, who had been ready to follow up after firing in case Carl couldn't handle the enemies, stood frozen in place. The scene Carl had created in an instant struck her no less hard than when she had first learned someone had leverage over her.

I told you to protect me. But isn't your speed at eliminating threats a little too fast?

Blanca had been prepared to get hurt in a fierce firefight and had even imagined the possibility of dying. Now, she felt like all that mental preparation had been for nothing.

The task she had given Carl, more precisely, had been to kill Juanito after she brushed back her hair, then cover her retreat against the attacks of ten people. That had been the best outcome Blanca could imagine. There had been some deviations during the operation—such as her not being able to resist shooting Juanito herself—but they should still have been preparing to run. The possibility of Carl killing everyone in an instant had never even occurred to Blanca.

A perfectly good escape-and-protection mission had turned into kill, kill, kill. Were mercenaries these days really this capable?

Carl didn't know what Blanca was thinking, because to him, this was only natural.

How did one protect an employer?

Kill everyone who posed a threat to the employer. Wasn't that protecting the employer? Was there anything simpler?

What, was he supposed to stand beside his employer and constantly worry that some stray bullet might blow her head off?

Give him a break. As a mercenary, Carl was now a professional who had completed several jobs. He knew what he was doing.

"The threats are dealt with. What now, boss? I remember there are still three downstairs. Should I take care of them too while I'm at it?"

"While you're at it?"

Maelstrom lives were lives too—Blanca had wanted to say that. But Maelstrom lives really didn't count as lives in her eyes, so she nodded.

Carl moved quickly afterward. He walked to the window and fired at the three Maelstrom members outside the apartment entrance, who had heard the gunshots and were wondering what had happened inside, before they could react.

Once again, the gunfire was so fast it sounded like only one shot.

"They're dealt with. What now?"

'Ding, 50,000 Eurodollars received.'

"Oh, that was quick. Then this job's settled."

Seeing the mercenary in front of her smile brightly, his face splattered with blood that ran down his neck without him even noticing, Blanca's body trembled almost imperceptibly.

She had to admit it now: she was truly afraid. But the person she feared wasn't the one threatening her—it was the mercenary who had come to protect her.