Chapter 23: Keng, Equipment, and Amikaba

09:15 AM.
Palos Mental and Psychological Research Institute, Laboratory No. 3.

"Director Kenge, the scene analysis and target file have been compiled. Please..."
A heavily armed man spoke in a respectful tone.
The data pad he offered was pushed aside by the other party, signaling it was unnecessary for now.

The man was a bald, middle-aged individual with deeply sunken eye sockets and a gaunt frame beneath his white lab coat. He wore a cold, indifferent expression as he surveyed the scene before him.
Kenge Stitt, Director of the Third Research Institute and its nominal overseer.

Currently, they stood before a roped-off area marked by yellow hazard tape. Inside lay the gruesome corpse of a burly man, the dried bloodstains showing a dark, crimson hue.

"Vidani."
Kenge pulled back the tape and crouched beside the body, speaking suddenly: "What is your assessment?"
Vidani, standing nearby, did not hesitate. "The cause of death was a gunshot to the head, resulting in the instantaneous destruction of seventy percent of the brain tissue. However, according to the forensic scan, the target’s body exhibited a very brief state of rigidity before death, as if he had 'frozen' for a split second."

"Some form of psionic power."
Vidani’s pupils brightened. "Teacher, this is the surveillance footage from that time. This 'Song Shi' used a psionic technique manifested as flames to incapacitate Broderick, then closed in, disarmed him, and fired within a very short span of time to kill him."
"The specifics remain unclear; there is too little information at present. The database cross-reference for this psionic technique is still ongoing, so we cannot yet determine what it is."
"However, one thing is certain: this is not a conventional psionic ability, though it can definitely be classified as being of the 'Great Source' path."
"There is one more issue." Vidani frowned slightly. "We re-examined Song Shi's personal file and found no signs of tampering. He is indeed an unawakened individual..."
—In other words, the subject’s "psionic power" had awakened during his time at the institute.

"An ordinary person?"
Kenge bared his teeth, letting out a cryptic laugh. "An ordinary person doesn't awaken psionic powers, execute a decisive counter-kill, and demonstrate proficiency in network intrusion and defense."

"Teacher, what are you implying?" Vidani asked, somewhat surprised.
"Either his camouflage technology is so sophisticated that we cannot detect the inconsistencies in his file," Kenge said, slowly running his index finger over the wound on the corpse, "or this fellow is likely no longer 'Song Shi'."

"I have my own ideas."
Finally, Kenge stood up, looked out the window, and stood with his hands behind his back. "Vidani, pass the word down: seal off news of this incident. Do not report it to the headquarters, and do not notify the Security Bureau."
"From here on out, I will handle this individual myself."

...

02:40 PM.
Kakadan Cybernetic Clinic.

Passing through the cramped alleyway, Song Shi pushed open the iron gate, walked down the steps leading to the basement, and knocked on the door.
The door opened immediately.
As he stepped inside, the pungent scent of disinfectant rushed to meet him. Yet, intermingled with it was the faint aroma of food.

"Ah... if you're looking to buy a fleshlight, I recommend the Kama Generation II. It just arrived a few days ago—it’s got thermal insulation, moisture retention, and vibration features. You can even connect online to play virtual reality dungeons with others..."
Glancing at the young man who had entered, the man on the recliner tilted his head back and let out a listless yawn.

The man’s voice carried a heavy accent. Seeing a tube of squeezed-out synthetic curry paste beside a food tray, combined with the man’s thick, unkempt beard, Song Shi was slightly surprised.
"Vanran?"
The man grunted twice, saying nothing.

The surprise was fleeting. Although Vanrans from the south were rare, the several nations predominantly populated by them had been destroyed during the "Seven Earth War," so seeing a Vanran in Palos was not particularly strange.
His surprise stemmed from the intelligence he had gathered earlier; it only mentioned that this Kakadan clinic took on black-market work and that the cyber-surgeon was technically proficient. It had made no mention of the surgeon being a Vanran.

"I’m an officially certified retail outlet for the 'Veda Group's' Kama products. Repairs are guaranteed if there’s an issue. Think about it, friend; a Kama Generation II is only 350 credits. Of course, I don't allow trials here..."
In the cabinet next to him, three rows of various models of fleshlights were displayed. As if receiving a command, the lights inside the counter suddenly flickered on, bathing the display in colorful neon.

"Stop. I'm not here for that."
Song Shi had to speak up.

"Not buying? Then what are you here for?"
The man scanned Song Shi and curled his lip. "Want cybernetic surgery? I don't sell cheap junk here. Can you afford it? Oh, look at you—you look just like any other natural-born human. What, the black-market factories won't take you?"
"My advice: go out of here, turn left, turn right, walk another four hundred meters, and find any back-alley doctor to install a second-hand mechanical arm. A few hundred bucks' worth is enough for you to turn some bolts."
The man let out a massive yawn. "Kid, you can't afford my stock. If you're not buying a fleshlight, then beat it. Don't waste everyone's time—and a word of warning: if you’re planning to tell me some tragic backstory, you can save your breath. I don't buy that, and I don't do charity."

"Four high-potency stimulants, three blood coagulants, three rapid-action bandages—at least second-tier brands. Also, get me a set of 'White Armor Type-III Power Bracers' from Southern Domain Heavy Industries and a 'Hard Biscuit' communication silencer from Santa Industrial."
Song Shi interrupted the man, holding up two fingers, his tone concise. "The market value for these items fluctuates around one hundred thousand. I can pay one hundred and ten thousand, provided you get them as soon as possible."

At these words, the man's expression shifted slightly.
He sat up from the recliner and, for the first time, truly appraised the person before him.
With the eye of a veteran cyber-surgeon, he confirmed that the person in front of him had minimal modifications—he was essentially an original natural-born human—and he was young.

In the Deep Moss District, people like this were a dime a dozen. These youngsters either ignored their body's tolerance limits, took out loans to install combat cybernetics, and joined gangs hoping for a way out; or they worked in black-market factories on rotating shifts, praying for a formal corporate contract that would make them the envy of many. A very small fraction clawed their way out, joined a major corporation, and became polished, glamorous corporate citizens, finally leaving the quagmire of the Deep Moss District behind.

But what the young man had just said was not something an ordinary pauper should know.
Southern Domain Heavy Industries' "White Armor Type-III" and Santa Industrial's "Hard Biscuit" silencer...
Neither of these were common items. They were quite obscure to the public, but because of their cost-effectiveness, they were popular in certain niche circles—cyber-geeks, mercenaries, bounty hunters, and members of well-established gangs.

"Well now... have I run into an insider?"
The man scratched his head and sighed. As he sent a "lock door" and "activate security system" command via his internal neural sensor, he stood up.

"Come with me."