In the conference room at the headquarters of the Skeleton Iron Society, the lights had been dimmed to near darkness. Only the central holographic projector gave off a幽幽 blue glow, casting an image of Iron Mask’s corpse—more accurately, his remains.
The projection showed a pool of blood mixed with machine oil. Bits of flesh and components had splattered everywhere, yet his limbs and spine were nowhere to be found.
A head with its eyes gouged out, still attached to a small piece of upper chest, lay in the corner. The face that should have been steel had turned into an ugly, twisted visage of flesh and blood, and clenched between his teeth was a demon-joker playing card that had already appeared more than a few times.
In the modest conference room, more than a dozen cadres silently stared at their colleague’s corpse. Their heavy, uneven breathing seemed to be brewing some emotion on the verge of eruption.
The air was so oppressive it seemed water could be wrung from it. Some stared at the projection, some at the tabletop, while others warily swept their gazes across the rest of the room.
At last, a voice broke the silence—
“Can we be sure it’s Iron Mask? I remember his face. It should have been…”
“It’s already been confirmed from multiple angles. DNA, dental marks, cybernetic modulation records. There’s no doubt—it’s him. As for his face… it should be flesh-and-blood source energy.”
Edwin, the Skeleton Iron Society’s strategist, was a relatively refined-looking middle-aged man. He did his best to keep his tone as calm as possible as he said,
“According to the reconstructed ocular data from eyewitnesses at the time of the incident, John should possess the ability to attach flesh-and-blood source energy to crossbow bolts, allowing them to ignore source-energy resistance to a certain extent. Iron Mask’s face changed after he was grazed by a long-range snipe. For now, we don’t know whether this was due to some special cybernetic implant or a special technique of John’s own.”
“What’s the effective range of his source energy? Can it only be used for sniping, or…” Volvo, the cadre in charge of personnel, asked. Hearing this, Edwin shook his head.
“Judging from the traces, only the face showed signs of flesh transformation. But Iron Mask’s limbs and spine were all taken away, so we can’t confirm whether the other party was trying to conceal the limitations of his source energy, or simply taking high-value cybernetics.”
“What about his attack methods?” Volvo asked again.
“What we can confirm are high-powered crossbow bolts and firearms. From the traces at the scene, both firing rate and power were astonishing. But unless the other party can truly attach source energy to every bullet, it would be impossible to kill Iron Mask—who possessed both a Kerenzikov and Lynx Dance Steps—through bullets alone. The surrounding buildings also showed no signs of flesh transformation after being hit by bullets. Judging from the state of Iron Mask’s body, he should have been directly torn apart by a high-speed rotating weapon. And that also means the enemy had the ability to catch up to Iron Mask.”
“Enough! We didn’t come here for a tactics lecture!”
A muffled bang, accompanied by a tremor, made every object on the table jump. The one who spoke was a burly, thickset brute. This man, nicknamed Chariot, was the cadre in charge of “street order”—what was commonly known as the double-flower red pole.
At this moment, he had already risen to his feet. His vicious gaze swept around the room before finally landing back on Edwin.
“Iron Mask is dead. Who knows how many pieces of street trash are waiting to laugh at us. And you called us here just to watch his corpse spin around? If you don’t have the guts, then shut your mouth and watch me twist that bastard’s head off and hang it at the front gate—”
“And then let us watch your corpse spin around?”
Before the coarse words could finish, they were frozen by a voice so cold it made the spine go numb. The speaker was a woman. As the cadre in charge of intelligence and counter-assassination, Filintina had not closed her eyes for several days. She watched Chariot with her utterly emotionless cybernetic eyes.
“What did you say?” Waves of heat radiated from Chariot’s body, but Filintina remained unmoved. She merely reached out and adjusted the projection, raising the image.
“Iron Mask was the best among us at pursuit and killing. And this place was his home turf, the base where he had lived for over thirty years! In a place like this, a seasoned killer was taken down by a guy who specializes in sniping and climbed up from the garbage district less than half a year ago! The other party is strong. If you can’t even learn to respect your opponent, then you deserve to lie in the morgue and be laughed at!”
“Respect?” Chariot leaned forward. His height of over two and a half meters made him seem especially massive in the low-ceilinged conference room. “That bastard killed one of ours, and he’s planning to kill you and me next. And now you’re telling me to respect him?”
“I’m telling you to be rational.” Filintina stood as well, but her movements were steady and restrained. “Iron Mask’s death proves that John has a complete tactical system. He isn’t some rookie who watches a few black braindances and thinks he can make a name for himself overnight. He is an expert that we need to pool our efforts to deal with.”
“Sit down.”
Edwin suddenly spoke. His voice was not loud, nor did it carry any unquestionable authority, but Chariot and Filintina exchanged a glance before slowly sitting back down.
“Filintina is right. We need to be rational.” Edwin brought up a map of Saint Lotham City. Three red dots were marked on it—the death sites of the three victims. “But Chariot’s thoughts also represent the thoughts of many of our brothers. The consecutive assassinations of mid- and high-level members have dealt a heavy blow to our prestige. Over the past few days, the assassination attempts we’ve encountered have increased nearly tenfold. Although most of them are small fry with no idea of their own weight, that in itself means our reputation is slipping. Some people think we’ve grown weak, that they can provoke us at will.”
He paused, his gaze sweeping over everyone present.
“The chairman is absent, but this situation cannot be allowed to continue. I called you here so we could pool our wisdom and come up with a feasible plan.”
“A plan? What plan could there be?”
Gold Tooth, who was in charge of the Skeleton Iron Society’s “legitimate” businesses, spoke with dissatisfaction. “Iron Mask is dead, and the goods from Poison Scorpion and Iron Hammer can’t be supplied either. There are rumors spreading at the casino too, saying we can’t even protect our own people. If this goes on, next month’s revenue will drop by at least fifty percent!”
At this point, Gold Tooth wiped the greasy sweat from his face, his gaze sinister.
“I’m not saying we shouldn’t take revenge. On the contrary, we must take revenge, and we must take it hard! We have to let everyone know the consequences of offending our Skeleton Iron Society! We have to let the customers know we can still cover them!”
“That’s right. Although it hasn’t been long, recruitment on my end has already started running into problems. Quite a few young people would rather go to peripheral gangs than join the Skeleton Iron Society. This is a very bad sign.” As one of the most senior among them, Volvo’s tone was exceedingly grave.
“With the chairman absent, it’s equivalent to losing our strongest combat power and our backing at the same time. The tower districts don’t dare move yet, but if we truly reveal an opening, I have no doubt those families will swallow us whole before the chairman returns!”
One cadre after another spoke of the problems facing the matters under their charge. Edwin’s brows furrowed tighter and tighter. He took a deep breath before finally saying,
“I didn’t call you here to hold a grievance meeting. I know all the problems you’re facing. But compared to hearing about problems, what I need more is a solution!”