Chapter 18 : Downhill

“Who do I think I am?! I’m—”
Still not getting the vibe, I snatch his yapping tongue with my fingers.
Maybe he’s louder ‘cause he does get it, puffing up like a damn blowfish.

“That’s old news.”
What’s the right punishment for making me shove my fingers in a guy’s mouth?
His squirming tongue’s nasty, but thinking of his screwed-up face, I can stomach it for now.

“Why the fck did you shoot and start this mess, pal?”
“Why put me through this gross sht?”
Drool spills from his open mouth, face going pale—starting to look human.

But he ain’t human to me.
A bug draped in human skin.
A glitch trashing society’s rules.

“N-no, I d-didn’t m-mean—”
Shut it.
Ain’t listening.

I pull harder with my fingers.
Expecting a squish, there’s a brief tug, then his long tongue pops out, somehow not snapping.

“Gaaargh!!”
The sound’s barely human—more a beast’s raw scream of pain.

Liquid trails down his cheek.
F*ck, disgusting.
The saliva on my fingers bugs me more than the blood splatter.

“Towel.”
“Right here.”

This is all I feel.
I know it’s wrong.
I know.
My old life’s burned in my brain—can’t shake it.
I don’t enjoy this or play it up.
But this sure as hell ain’t me.

“Why’d you shoot?”
“Speak up.”
“Boss, most folks can’t talk after you yank their tongue.”
“What, in a world where jaws get rebuilt with chrome, no tongue means no speech?”
“F*ck, is that right?”
“Boss, been thinking for a while—you know you ain’t normal, right?”

If I let that Arasaka bastard live, he should’ve walked away quiet.
Who’s he think he is, breaking my city’s rules?

“Don’t care about other places, but in Santo Domingo, bullets flying’s off-limits.”
“Your boss never tell you?”

I ain’t asking for much.
Don’t wave guns or blades careless.
Don’t throw force at folks for no reason.
Don’t act to hurt.
Just these three rules to live by.

“That too hard?”
A place where people live like people.
Where basic morals are standard.
That’s what this town’s gotta be.
But this guy’s ruining it from the start.

“Get over here, you lot.”
“…We’re toast…”
“Yessir.”

Yelling at the guy himself don’t do much.
I toss my arms over their shoulders, acting casual.
Then push down.
No punishment, no job—just a light press.
Trouble is, I got strength to shake the ground with a step.

“Guhh—!”
“Arghh!”
They scream, knees buckling, hands hitting the floor, but I keep going.
That’s how it sinks in.

“F*ck, how much hand-holding you need to follow orders?”
“Tell me.”
“How long’s the Boss gotta run around teaching you every damn step?”
“S-sorry… sir…”
“Ughh…”

Groans spill from guys who shrug off bullets like flies.
I start easing off.
Not mercy.
If they die, I’d have to train new ones.
Too much hassle.

“Do it right.”
“Do it well.”
“Yes.”
“Got it.”

A good chew-out’s always been the fix.

This is a disaster.
The target dying here’s the last thing we want.
Our goal’s grabbing info.
If things go south, we’re the ones here, tied to the job—top suspects.
Even if he’s low-rank, he’s Arasaka, an exec’s driver.

“Rebecca, get outta here now—”
“Boss, Maxim’s bio-data got sent, and Trauma Team’s on the way.”
“Also, a call from his boss…”
“Who’s Maxim?”
“The guy you just de-tongued, Boss.”

Too late.
Trauma Team and Arasaka’ll come down hard with Maxim’s data.
Dorio felt cold sweat for the first time in years.
The job’s outcome didn’t matter anymore.
But running now?
That’s begging to get framed.

Stuck, his face stiffening, he saw the hooded man bark at his crew.
“This bastard—can you hack it to patch the call through?”
“No, do it.”
“On it.”

What the hell’s that?
Hacking a corpse sounds insane, yet this long-haired guy dives in, no pause.
No pro gear, nothing.
Common sense shatters fast.

Right after, somehow, he’s done—before anyone catches it, a hologram face flares up from his device.
A hard-set jaw, sharp suit, no trace of a joke.
Arasaka exec, no question.

The hologram exec lowers his shades, glancing at Maxim’s body, then locks eyes with the man staring back.
“Crossing Arasaka? You’re out of your damn mind.”
“You know what you just pulled, right?”
“What, think I don’t?”
“Shut your fancy Arasaka prick’s tongue so it don’t flap no more.”

No clue where that nerve comes from, but it ain’t sane.
Thought they were Dokkaebi—turns out, lunatics.

“You f*ckers never listen.”
“How many times you broken the rules?”
“Treat you peaceful, you should’ve listened some.”

His words and attitude scream Dokkaebi, but acting like this, not knowing who he’s facing?
No headcase is this unhinged.

“Wanna die? Die alone!”
This’ll kill anyone even remotely tied to this.
A small-time cyberpunk crew? Child’s play.

“Dorio, don’t stress.”
“We should be running, what’re you saying?!”
His hushed voice, meant to be low, booms with panic, shocking even him.
But Rebecca’s voice stays flat, cool as steel.

She’s lounging on a sofa, chugging a bottle, looking like she ain’t got a worry.
Dorio feels something’s off but tries to stand, face twisted.

“So, I’m done with just warnings.”
Rebecca’s an original.
Reliable, sharp on jobs—a pro.
Dorio always thought her guts were big, but this?
Too damn big.

“Seriously?”
“What’re you seeing?”
“Well…”

“To you Arasaka f*ckers, hear this.”
“Glance at Santo Domingo again, and I’ll send you out of this world for good.”

A war cry in the background.
Words you can’t brush off, but to hear them, you’d doubt the guy’s sanity.
Yet that voice held nothing but truth.

“Real ‘Dokkaebi’ here.”
A chill cuts the air.
A beast’s snarl, hell’s gates creaking open.
Dorio’s body locks.
No sweat—feels like he’s dead, life drained out.

Barely holding his shaking frame, he turns slowly.
There, somehow, three ghosts stand.
Wearing Dokkaebi masks.
Blue eyes blazing.
Oozing murderous intent.

“…Dokkaebi, huh?”
“Even so, some gang thug can’t call those shots.”
“Who the hell are you?”
The Arasaka exec’s voice calms, catching on.
But the monster’s voice cuts clearer.

“Who is he, you ask?”
“Kneel and show respect.”

Killing men, saving men.
Breaking worlds, building worlds.
Worshiped, feared.
The god of the Dokkaebi.

“Dokkaebi’s boss.”
“Doeoks Doe.”
“That’s me.”

So spread it—I’m killing them all from now on.
Don’t wanna die?
Get out of my city.

Dorio’s trembling stops.
Rebecca’s calm makes no sense, yet it’s the most sensible thing here.