Lucy's head was a mess; she could barely process what she was seeing.
She tilted her chin up at the hulking vehicle in front of her, then slowly turned to the boy standing beside it, then back to the truck—over and over again, eyes glazed in a way she'd never worn before.
At last, as if waking from the "miracle and magic" he'd mentioned, Lucy stared blankly at Lin Mo. Her lips parted, closed, parted again—like a toddler just learning to speak, unable to form a complete sentence.
Lin Mo took in her shifting expressions and smiled, satisfied that he'd gotten the reaction he expected.
If this cyber–sci-fi world had anything you could call mystical, it was the simulator. Any physical reward from it would remain stored in its "database" until he chose to retrieve it—only then would it manifest in the real world, and after that it couldn't be put back.
So he'd held onto last night's reward until now, waiting for the perfect moment to pull it out and wrap up tonight's job neatly.
Seeing Lucy still rooted to the spot, he didn't rush her. He turned instead to admire the heavy truck:
—A Behemoth heavy armored transport: thick plating, a beast of an engine, the kind of rig that could plow through the Badlands without flinching.
With a few tweaks, it would be a true military-grade platform.
Normally, a vehicle like this was restricted hardware. This Militech Behemoth wouldn't be sold to private buyers—only corporations. Most people didn't even get to touch one.
Compared to that, a Chevillon Emperor 720 was the sensible edgerunner's choice—cheaper, quicker, and no permit required.
But simulator goods were top-shelf; he trusted this truck's performance implicitly.
"Where did you get this thing?" Lucy finally managed after a good ten seconds of shock, her language center finally booting up.
Lin Mo gave her a gentle, theatrical sigh. "Can't help it. The second I lift a finger, people are stunned. Honestly… it's a burden."
Lucy's look slid from stunned to openly unimpressed. She wasn't buying any of that.
He shrugged and dropped the bit. "We can talk later. First, help me load the six of them. You pushed them all the way here—now let's get them in the back."
The old "beggar master" story didn't fit this situation anyway; what kind of mystic conjured a truck?
And this was a one-off chance—no telling when the simulator would spit out another physical item.
Lucy watched him a moment longer, said nothing, and started hefting the sedated cyberpsycho test subjects into the cargo bay.
While she worked, Lin Mo climbed into the cab to learn the controls. The truck's interior was all through-passage—no hard partition between the cab and the cargo bay. If needed, a plated barrier could drop at the touch of a button beside the console.
He picked up the user manual from the center console and began flipping through it. He'd never driven a rig like this—but with his reflex booster and a decent feel for machines, he wasn't worried about dumping it into the harbor.
When Lucy came around to the driver's door after loading the last body, she caught him studying the manual—and a bad feeling crawled up her spine.
"Don't tell me you've never driven a truck like this," she said, voice rising.
Lin Mo shot her a sideways glance and nodded, honest as ever.
Lucy's mouth twitched. She dropped into the passenger seat, a little winded from the lifting, wondering how she'd gotten herself into this.
"You could lie, you know. Spare me the anxiety."
"Honesty matters," he said mildly, setting the manual back on the console. "Jokes are jokes, but not about this kind of thing."
"You're done already?" she asked, surprised.
"Please. When I took my license, I had a certificate in one-hand drifts." He grinned. "A mere heavy hauler? Nothing to it."
As he spoke, he slotted a chip into his neural port.
Lucy clicked her tongue, but the tension in her shoulders eased. A skill shard, most likely—instant upload.
So much for sheer talent, she thought. Still… reliable is reliable.
Knowledge of the Behemoth's handling flooded Lin Mo's mind. He wasn't a master driver now, but getting this thing out smoothly wouldn't be a problem.
"All loaded?" he asked.
Lucy nodded.
He laid his hands on the wheel, testing the weight, not gunning it yet. "Good work. Save one life, build seven pagodas, as the saying goes. You just saved six—so that's forty-two pagodas. Expensive stuff."
"We're not out yet," Lucy shot back. "And it wasn't me—it was your call."
"Keep the credit then. For me, good deeds aren't a ledger—it's a rule of mine," he said, then glanced over. "Still… when you asked how many to save, you were hoping for all of them, weren't you?"
Lucy's eyes flicked, and she studied him. "…You could tell?"
"I dabble in psychology, you know. The way you looked at me—anyone could see it." He snorted. "Besides, with a truck like this, we save as many as we want."
She turned to the window without answering. The air thickened between them until he spoke again.
"You want to save them because of your past, don't you?"
Silence, then a small nod. "Mm."
"Childhood?"
"Mm."
He clicked his tongue softly. Thought so.
"I won't dig if you don't want to tell me," he said. "But you're my employee. Good ones deserve good treatment. If something's on your mind, tell me. Everyone's got a past."
"Unlucky people spend a lifetime healing their childhood. Lucky ones are healed by it for life." He tilted his head. "Saving six at once—feel good?"
She turned slightly, offering him a cool, beautiful profile, and nodded once.
Cold face, warm heart, he thought, amused. Got it right.
He didn't press. Instead, he set a phone in her palm. On the screen: a column of blood-red buttons.
"While you were hauling, I planted high-yield charges throughout the facility," he said evenly. "Push every button and this place is more or less dust."
Half the reason that satchel had been so heavy was the explosives. He rarely used guns—just a few mags in his pockets. The bag's biggest compartment was stuffed with demolition toys.
He had no intention of letting this place stand.
Lucy's calm finally cracked. She blinked, stunned that he'd just handed her something so… final.
"Why give this to me?" she asked.
"Why not? It's already the plan—cover our tracks and slap Arasaka in the face. You hate them, right? Seems fitting you do the honors." He smiled. "Consider it patching an old wound. Beats stealing shards."
Lucy stared at him, then asked quietly, "Aren't you afraid Arasaka will come after you? This was supposed to be a stealth job. You blow it up, they won't let it go."
"Relax. I've arranged things. This is stamped Militech. If Arasaka wants a fight, they can take it up with Militech. And with those raiders outside? Arasaka's got bigger problems."
"And the pursuit?"
"Mann's team will cover us—and they'll be disguised."
"What if the fixer isn't happy? She won't want this much heat."
"She doesn't have a choice. The moment those raiders attacked, the noise was already made. We're just adding kindling. As for cleanup—don't underestimate her. We're in the same boat. She'll handle it."
"Then—"
"My lady," Lin Mo sighed, cutting her off, "are you a kid? We're edgerunners. Freedom's the point. Cringing gets you laughed at."
Lucy met his gaze head-on and asked the last question anyway: "Why help me like this?"
He waved it away. "It's nothing. You saved them—I just supplied the wheels. Blowing the lab was already in the plan. Letting you push the button is a small thing…"
He made no move to claim any credit.
Lucy held his eyes a long moment. Then, in a voice softer than he'd ever heard from her, she whispered, "Thank you."
"Mm? What was that? Didn't catch it," he said, brow creasing innocently.
She huffed a laugh. "I said—thank you, boss."
"OK!"
His face lit with triumphant mischief. In a blur, he snatched the phone back, flicked his finger—and an audio clip played: "Thank you… Thank you… Thank you…" Lucy's voice, looping.
The realization hit; he'd been recording.
Like a dragon hoarding treasure, he beamed and pushed the clip to his own processor, then switched the screen back to the red-button panel and returned the phone.
Lucy's expression darkened to a teeth-grinding glare. He raised his hands in a placating gesture.
"I know you're annoyed, and yeah, that was cheeky. But at least I did it in front of you. No sneaking." His tone sobered. "As compensation, you can keep the rest of the grenades in the bag. When we're out, stand at the tailgate and chuck them wherever you like."
He hauled up the satchel—now much lighter. There were still a dozen or so grenades left; the heavy-duty building charges were already planted.
"If I don't want them?" she asked coolly.
"You hate Arasaka, right? Lobbing a few boom-booms is therapeutic," he said breezily. "Art is explosion. Back home, kids throw firecrackers at New Year. Same idea. You might enjoy it."
Her eyes went cold. She heard the subtext instantly. "Do you take me for a child?"
After all his teasing, that word was a trigger now.
"Think what you want. The bag's there. Use it or don't. Oh—and when we go, hit button 1 first. That's the door charge." He pointed ahead. "Time to move."
On cue, a small red LED winked on the thin wall ahead.
Lucy stared at him a beat longer, then hefted the satchel and slipped to the back.
"Ts ts. Mouth says no, hands say yes," Lin Mo murmured, facing forward.
A sharp beep. A blossom of fire devoured the wall. Concrete blew apart under the roar, smoke boiling through the breach as night light spilled into the hall.
Lin Mo stamped the accelerator.
The Behemoth surged like a dragon breaking its cage, bursting through the smoke and out into the open.
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