Inside the restaurant:
"Hello, all your food has been served. Please enjoy your meal."
The waitress spoke as she placed the last serving of roast meat and two more dishes in front of Chris on the table.
She also cleared the empty plates, giving Chris a more comfortable dining environment.
"Thanks."
Chris politely replied and continued enjoying the local Mombasa cuisine. Despite its high calorie and fat content, it was quite filling, and given his larger-than-average frame, he appreciated the hearty meal.
As he "cleaned" his plate, night had fully fallen outside, but the crowds only grew denser.
White-collar workers, laborers, and even the unemployed were all flocking to this area to indulge and relax, as the prices were quite "affordable."
For instance, earlier, the bikini-clad woman Chris encountered outside the restaurant had claimed that just 20 credits would be enough to spend a "memorable night" with her.
Based on their intelligence, humans in the Halo universe had long unified their currency. Earth and the near-Earth colonies had nearly eliminated physical coins and bills.
Every planet had highly developed networks that allowed residents to use their identity information to pay directly with credits, abbreviated as "cR."
20 cR was roughly the cost of an M9 frag grenade in the UNSC, and a civilian Warthog vehicle would cost about 90,000 cR.
On Reach, a meal of Moa burger with fries could cost anywhere from 10 to 20 cR.
By comparison, the 20 cR offer from the bikini-clad woman was indeed quite a bargain. It's also possible she was giving Chris a special discount.
On the other hand, the Covenant used an imperial currency called "Gekz," also relying on electronic transactions.
After Atlas seized control of the City of Charity, the Prophets publicly offered bounties, including a staggering 10 million Gekz for the assassination of Xian'del, the so-called "traitor," and for the assassination of the "heretic lord" (Samuel Young) or assistance in retaking the imperial capital, the City of Charity.
Although 10 million might not seem like much, in the Covenant's economy, 80,000 to 100,000 Gekz could buy a nearly two-kilometer-long DCS-class support ship.
For the Prophets to offer 10 million as a bounty for Xian'del and their leader's head was considered "bleeding" resources.
The Prophets also released large sums of "cash" to sway wavering generals, warlords, and clan leaders to support their war against the human-Elite alliance.
They even pardoned a number of exiled "heretics" and high-security prisoners to bolster the Elite forces.
However, the internal strife within the Covenant caused the Gekz currency to begin devaluing.
Far-sighted alien leaders took the money and muddled through, as they bore no deep grudge against the humans and Elites.
However, space pirates, heretics, and high-security prisoners fought with zeal, seeking both the bounty and a chance to gain true freedom, choosing the fate of cannon fodder willingly.
In their eyes, the Covenant was still a powerful empire, and the human-Elite alliance was merely a temporary nuisance.
After all, not long ago, many of them had never even heard of humans, let alone Primarchs, Astartes, or Thunder Warriors.
Meanwhile, Chris, on Earth, kept close tabs on the battles taking place across the galaxy.
However, due to the differences between species, his team of investigators was unable to infiltrate or penetrate the Covenant territories.
Even though the Investigation Department had considered working with the biology department to clone Skirmishers for behind-enemy-lines missions, the biology department warned that such a project would likely waste resources, and they had no time to fine-tune the Skirmisher clones. So, the proposal was shelved.
After some time had passed, Chris finished his last bit of roast meat and snacks, stood up, and went to the front desk to pay with his identity card.
After leaving the restaurant, he took a cigarette from his shirt pocket and expertly lit it.
"Ahh~!"
Chris exhaled a puff of smoke and, like any ordinary resident, strolled leisurely, smoking as he walked. However, despite appearing to eye the women on the street, his true focus remained on the brothel across from the restaurant.
After a short wait:
"Hahaha! I really like the girls here. Next time, I'll personally pick a few and bring them to meet my boss!"
"It would be an honor for our girls to catch the eye of Director Kinsler~. Today's bill is on the house, Officer Littrell~."
Chris spotted his target, the corrupt police captain Littrell, chatting with the brothel owner.
After Littrell got his usual "freebie," he waved it off as if it were routine and headed out of the red-light district.
Once Littrell turned the corner and was out of sight, the brothel owner's face twisted with resentment as she muttered through clenched teeth, "Bastard."
It seemed that officials from the New Mombasa Police Department were regulars at the brothel—and regulars who often didn't pay their bills.
But local residents didn't dare openly challenge the police; they could only curse behind their backs to vent their frustration.
Meanwhile, Littrell:
Feeling pleased after his free "relaxation," he slung his jacket over his left shoulder and hummed a tune as he strolled out of the red-light district.
He headed to a nearby parking lot, intending to drive his car back to his upscale apartment near the city center.
However, he quickly sensed something was off about the parking lot—it was unusually quiet.
Littrell scanned the surroundings and noticed the surveillance cameras were operating normally, but he still reached for his handgun at his waist.
Thud, thud!
At that moment, Chris, who had been lying in wait outside the parking lot, launched a rapid charge, aiming to overpower Littrell with brute force.
Simultaneously, a black van parked nearby slid open its side door.
Three special ops team members, dressed in bulletproof clothing and armed with suppressed AMWS submachine guns, moved in to assist Chris in the capture.
Though Littrell was a minor figure, Kinsler was cautious and rarely used electronic devices, making it difficult for Cortana to pinpoint his exact location.
Moreover, with the UNSC and ONI leadership almost completely taken down, Kinsler had gone into hiding to avoid the same fate.
Kinsler's constant vigilance had kept him alive in the original timeline until the Covenant invasion of Earth.
Had he not let his lustful urges get the better of him, which led to a confrontation with enraged civilians, he might have survived long enough to see humanity win the war.
The Investigation Department wanted a decisive strike, even though they had uncovered several of Kinsler's hideouts. They were waiting for precise intelligence before moving in for the arrest and public execution.
Most importantly, their partner, the Supernatural Phenomena Control Division, believed that Earth and its nearby colonies harbored threats that conventional weapons couldn't handle.
Thus, the Investigation Department advanced cautiously, wary of sudden developments.
However…
Bang! Bang!
Suddenly, gunshots echoed through the parking lot.
Littrell, moving with surprising calmness, had drawn his sidearm faster than expected and fired at the three special ops team members, targeting the greatest threats.
Thud, thud!
The bullets struck the team members in the chest.
Then, Littrell turned to deal with Chris behind him.
But Chris had already closed in and delivered a powerful punch to Littrell's right shoulder.
Crack—!
The sound of breaking bones accompanied the blow, sending Littrell flying more than ten meters.
Finally, the unusually quick-reacting, corrupt police captain collapsed behind a parked car.
Chris, shaking off his punch, drew an 8mm AMWS submachine gun from his waistband, approaching Littrell cautiously while asking his team, "Ice Claw, you guys okay?"
"No problem, just a minor issue," a female team member gasped before responding:
"This guy's just as cautious as his corrupt boss. We should have used tranquilizers from the start."
By now, the three special ops team members had regrouped around Littrell.
"Tranquilizers might not have worked on him," Chris said, nudging Littrell's abdomen with his foot.
"Hahaha! You really came? My lord's prophecy was right!"
Despite his shattered shoulder and bleeding profusely, Littrell didn't scream in pain. Instead, he laughed maniacally and said, "Foolish…"
Bang!
But before Littrell could finish, Chris landed another punch to his face.
Seeing that their target had finally passed out, Chris continued, "Fists are the most effective with this guy. From now on, we'll need the Grey Adjudicators to assist with operations targeting Kinsler."
He then gave his orders: "Seal this guy up and transport him, Silvermane, Night Howl."
"On it, boss."
"Yes, sir."
Two team members retrieved pen-sized metal cylinders and placed them at Littrell's head and feet.
In an instant, a glass-like black membrane formed around the unconscious Littrell, sealing him.
The metal cylinders emitted a faint blue glow, causing Littrell to float in mid-air and drift into the van.
In fact, this technology was developed by the Research Department after acquiring Forerunner hard-light tech, using room-temperature superconducting materials and condensed matter to create disposable "body bags."
Originally, they were designed for the Biology Department to safely and quickly handle alien bodies or unknown organisms.
The bags could also hover and move autonomously before the condensed
-matter batteries ran out.
As the Director of Operations for the Investigation Department, Ada saw another use for these disposable body bags: quickly "sealing" captives.
Ada allocated discretionary funds and commissioned the Research Department to make modifications, allowing prisoners to breathe comfortably while sealed.
At this moment:
After securing Littrell inside the van, Chris and his team also got in.
Another team member, acting as the driver, immediately started the vehicle and drove toward the outskirts of New Mombasa.
As the van pulled away, patrol cars swarmed the area.
Despite Cortana taking control of the surveillance systems, nearby residents had clearly heard the gunshots.
Later that night, in the western mountains of Mombasa:
Chris's team, following the route provided by Cortana, confirmed they weren't being followed before returning to an open area at the edge of the forest, overlooking the city.
Soon, the sandy ground began to "sink," revealing an entrance to the underground.
The van drove inside.
The entrance closed behind them, the ground leveling itself out to erase any trace of the vehicle's passage.
Hidden sentries would handle any other necessary details, ensuring the base remained undetected for as long as possible.
Beneath the surface:
The van entered a spacious hangar, where it underwent a thorough inspection by ground personnel.
Chris and his team escorted Littrell, still sealed in his "body bag," to a small biological lab inside the base.
Along the way, they passed Hex robots of various models working alongside engineers to expand the base.
Workshops also churned out enough ammunition to supply the units stationed at the base.
The Investigation Department was able to carry out this large-scale construction thanks to the cooperation agreement Ada had secured with the moderate rebels.
Using the rebels' smuggling routes, Atlas had successfully transported Ark teleporters and the first engineering teams to East Africa.
Once they arrived, the engineers got to work in their typical "builder mania" style.
With the Ark teleporters providing a constant flow of materials, machinery, and personnel, the Investigation Department had firmly established its foothold in East Africa.
At the same time, Ada had dispatched numerous technicians, elite warriors, and Greek gods to the base in the western outskirts of Mombasa.
—
Inside the isolation chamber of the small biological lab:
Littrell was strapped to a surgical table, bound by three technicians who began a series of scans and tests.
Four heavily armored special ops team members stood guard, armed with hard-light rifles, ready to neutralize any threat at a moment's notice.
In the observation room just outside the isolation chamber:
"Boss," Night Howl said as he watched the still-unconscious Littrell, turning to Chris. "That guy's reflexes were on par with us, even though we've been genetically modified. Something's off about him."
"…"
Chris nodded silently.
He had a nagging feeling that Littrell's state was eerily similar to the vampires and werewolves he had helped Lyon and Mike deal with years ago, or to the followers of Maido who had ravaged Terrera.
All of them spoke of their "lord" or "god."
Swish—
At that moment, the doors of the observation room slid open.
Tall and graceful, dressed in a classical Greek-style gown, Athena walked over to Chris and his team, saying:
"Everyone, New Mombasa might be facing a very serious threat."
_________________________
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