Chương 9: 8. High Security

Kelly Voss - Immortal Intern. An explosion rocked the entrance of Vaughn Industries and lit up the street—a red flash, a wall of heat that slapped the sweat off her forehead, sending a wave of hot grit through the wreckage. Kelly stayed where she was, sprawled out on the pavement, watching dust settle. The group Simon had sent to breach the building were still at it.

She heard the self-repair kick in, a low hum as metal edges pulled together and erased the blast marks, while his men passed a fresh charge forward and prepped another salvo. Kelly glanced at the entrance and wondered why nobody inside the building tried to stop them. They had their reasons, she guessed. So did she—it was like witnessing cavemen trying to club a skyscraper into submission, she almost giggled. Times Square still reeked of power, even with corpses decorating the sidewalks.

The elite had bolted, sure, but they left their toys behind—automated concierge services still chirped cheerful greetings to nonexistent tenants, luxury towers hummed with self-sustaining power grids, and high-end security drones patrolled empty penthouses like their owners might stroll back in any second. Vaughn Industries stood untouched at the center of it all, a monument to everything too advanced, too classified, or just too damn expensive to fall into the hands of the desperate.

If anyone had the guts to take it, they'd be claiming the keys to the world. For a time, at least. Kelly was sure that out in orbit, deals were still made, fortunes still shifted, and real control that could influence nations still mattered. But anyone with half a brain would know that on Earth, this was a rare, maybe even the only chance to rise in power and join them.

Jack 'Jackhammer' Vance - Vaughn Head of Security. A few feet away, the head of Vaughn Security peered around a steel column at a familiar intern, probably debating if talking to her was worth the headache. When upgrading, people tended to specialize. Most specialized for their careers or even part-time jobs. Builders received enhancements that improved strength and endurance. Store clerks received upgrades for focus and accuracy.

Police officers and soldiers often specialized in capture or firearms, favoring perception and resilience, or speed depending on the role. Of course, non-specialists existed—people whose enhancement scores were balanced evenly across all categories at their level—but that approach was generally seen as inefficient and costly. Some roles required specific score thresholds. Why aim for a balanced 4.

0 when focusing on one category could raise it by a full point, boosting not only prospects and earning potential, but also your place in society? Kelly was a scientist, and a junior one at that, gaining hands-on experience in a new field.

Her Augments, like every other intern and entry-level scientist, were specialized in cognitive function—which Jack, the head of Vaughn Industries Security Division, knew was the basic medical-seven suite package, granting entry-level enhancements for the role; things like sharper memory recall, enhanced concentration, with some added bonuses for strengthened steady limbs and hands for handling delicate materials.

In essence, she should have been mentally sharper than baseline, and only slightly physically stronger, too—but only barely, and not by much, just enough to do her job. That was all. But he'd seen her arrive, watched her tear through a small group of goblins to get here. She didn't stop. She didn't hesitate. She didn't even break rhythm, even when a goblin sank its teeth into her arm, its lockjaw kicking in. She just crushed its skull against a wall and used the body to take out the next one.

Her fighting was a mess on paper—wild, unrefined, and reckless—but somehow, every move landed with a brutal efficiency that made technique look optional. Had she always been like this? Had he just failed to notice? Jack had seen fighters push through exhaustion, pain, even blood loss—but Kelly moved like something more fundamental was driving her, like stopping had never once occurred to her as an option. She wasn't normal. But she seemed.... useful.

"You're just gonna lie there?" he finally called out. Kelly lifted her chin.

"What, you want me to stand?" He glanced at the nearest goblin corpse, diced to pieces, then back at her, then at the mess she'd left behind. His mouth pressed into a line.

"I just thought you'd be doing something... else." Kelly plucked a loose thread from her sleeve.

"Yeah, well, thinking isn't really your strong suit, is it Jack?" The man exhaled through his nose, muttering something about how she used to be normal.

Kelly Voss - Battle-Hardened Intern Kelly grinned. Jack 'Jackhammer' Vance had been famous before he ever set foot in Vaughn Security. Ex-private military, and ex-world-class EQ fighting champion and post-human gladiator, a legend whose highlight reels never stopped playing in bars and betting circuits. The man had dodged plasma bolts, walked off blows that should've turned him into paste, and turned high-speed killing machines into scrap with nothing but his bare hands.

Jackhammer in his prime had been a spectacle of destruction, built for war in a ring designed to push augmented combatants to their absolute limits. Then he retired, suited up, and started playing defense for people who needed a human tank with a security clearance, trading the death matches for high-rise boardrooms while putting his legendary discipline and strategic mind toward keeping people from blowing up the company vaults. He was Vaughn's insurance policy—the guy you called when the stakes were terminal.

And before the world started throwing magic and monsters into the mix, his biggest problem had been Kelly. Her endless obsessive late-night lab sessions always gave him extra work. She had treated the place like a second home. And her constant requests for security clearances stretched his peace to its absolute limit. And yet, he never raised his voice, never lost his temper—just leaned in doorways with his arms crossed, watching her try to lie her way out of a containment breach.

She was a newer intern and something of a promising prospect, but it was no surprise she'd been left behind by the ones in charge. That kind of work ethic usually led to promotion on merit, and nobody ever allowed merit-based promotion. Corporate politics was a zero-sum game. Her obsessive addiction to her work and bending Vaughn's handbook would have tested most people's patience and eventually lost someone else their job, but somehow, he still spoke to her like she had common sense.

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A green, pointy-eared creature stood at the end of the road, glowing staff raised, aimed straight at Kelly. She didn't move. She already knew how this would end. Jack blurred forward, covering the distance in an instant, going from zero to a hundred miles per hour in a second. His fist met the creature, and it burst like a water balloon.

Her ocular lenses pinged an EQ estimation, and instead of a score, she received a message she rarely ever saw outside of the city's center:'Error—Subject score too high for user assessment.' That meant his score was above 60. 0 EQ—people at that level could set their score to private and anyone not at or above 60 would simply receive that message. Of course. That meant Jack was an Elite. Anyone at that level was elite at anything they tried to do, so that's what everyone called them. The Elites.

Vaughn hadn't downgraded him. He was at least six thousand percent beyond baseline human capability—way past legal limits—and with the difference in their scores, Kelly couldn't even tell what his specialization was. But considering his job and who they worked for, his accord-breaking enhancements were sanctioned, and she wasn't surprised. Jack "Jackhammer" Vance stood over her, arms crossed, his expression displaying the face of a man who had seen too much in too little time.

Not that she blamed him—his yesterday had been normal. He could still outrun moving vehicles in a dead sprint, and probably leap between rooftops like it was nothing. He had been a walking highlight reel and apparently still was, and the world had loved him for it.

"Should I even ask?" he said, voice dry as he observed her spread-eagle on the floor. Kelly yawned.

"Chairs are oppressive. The ground is superior." A slow exhale escaped Jack. It was the type of exhale that usually preceded exasperation.

"You're lying in the middle of Times Square, and what's with the sword?"

"Yeah. Best seat in the house... And it's just a police knife, see?" She flicked her wrist and her blade instantly reassembled itself to resemble something more mundane.

"And why are you still here, anyway? Shouldn't you be off-planet, working remotely or something?" Most people were busy trying to escape the city or survive until rescue came. Some ignored her completely, treating her like some lunatic who had cracked in the face of the absurd. Others gave her a wide berth, recognizing something off about the way she carried herself—too confident, way too reckless, and entirely too comfortable in a world where comfort no longer existed.

And then there were the ones that inspired people like the would-be warlord Simon Lang—the people who took to the new world like birds to the sky, ruling amid the flames. Those guys were annoying. She wasn't quite sure where Jackhammer fit in just yet. It was only her ninth time meeting him 'today'.

"Extra pay," he said simply. He eyed her blade sceptically as he leaned against a half-collapsed barricade, arms crossed, scanning the wreckage like he was still just doing his job. Like this was just another corporate security detail and not the apocalypse. Kelly stared at the ruined skyline, flat on her back in the middle of Times Square.

"Hey, what's your Rank?" Jackhammer snorted.

"That magic panel thing? Crazy, right? Everyone's losing their minds over it."

"Yeah, well, mine says F-Minus. What about yours?" Jackhammer paused, glancing down at her.

"I don't think—No, actually, it's B-Minus." Then, after a beat, frowned, really looking at her.

"Wait. Yours is...?" Kelly grinned.

"Unless I forgot how to read." She tapped her fingers against the asphalt.

"Wonder how high it goes." Jackhammer grunted.

"You planning on finding out?" Kelly laughed.

"Obviously." Jackhammer exhaled.

"Kelly—that curiosity's gonna get you killed..."

"Buddy, I reset." Kelly grinned.

"Anyway, what's Vaughn's Rank?" Jackhammer quirked a brow in confusion, before rolling his shoulders dismissively.

"Why's it matter?" Kelly stretched, still lying down.

"If we have E and B-Minus, and the most powerful guy in the world isn't even higher than a 'B', then this whole system's a joke." Jackhammer hesitated. That was enough of an answer. Kelly grinned wider.

"You're actually thinking about it. You don't know, do you?" Jackhammer sighed.

"Doesn't matter." Kelly grinned wider.

"Because if he moved personally, the apocalypse would already be over?" Jackhammer stared at her.

"Because if he moved, there wouldn't be anything left to fight." The world's ending, and he's watching it from a penthouse. Not that I'd expect anything from his kind, she thought.

"What a waste," Kelly let her head fall back against the pavement.

"If I had no limits, could shoot lasers out of my eyes, and fall out of orbit without a scratch like Gideon Vaughn, I'd probably come down here to see if I could kick a pigeon into space or something." Jackhammer's eyes turned back to Kelly, sprawled out on the pavement fiddling with her programmable weapon.

"What're you..." He paused, observing her tinkering.

"Figures. End of the world, and you're here trying to clock in overtime. I'm being paid ten times the usual. But you're doing this practically for free. You really can't help yourself, can you?" Kelly stretched, tilting her head back to meet his gaze.

"Technically, I was supposed to stay behind for an extra month of field research before the higher-ups send a team to get me. So really, I'm just following orders." Jackhammer snorted.

"Uh-huh, right. They still gave you the short end of the stick after all that hard work... Who'd you piss off?" He had a point, someone had specifically assigned her this role, probably in the hopes she would face early retirement via magical monstrosity, but Kelly hardly cared. There was nowhere else in the world or known systems she'd rather be; the action was right here on Earth.

"Look, I just need my lab," she said, waving a hand toward the towering monument of Vaughn Industries HQ.

"I get in there, get the fabricator up and running, and then I can start feeding it genetic samples. If I can break down and regrow their organs, I can study what makes them tick. How they use that energy. Maybe even figure out what makes them work." He studied her, gaze sharp.

"It's not about the monsters, is it. It's something else. That floating freak... or..." His eyes widened.

"The portal?" Kelly beamed.

"The portal. The status panel. The floating bastard in the sky." She flexed her fingers, pointing at the 'Dragons' and 'Wyverns' overhead.

"Those things. We're all going to die later today if I don't hit 100 and do something. And I've got a lot of questions, Jack. I don't like not knowing things." She sat up, shaking off the dust.

"Vaughn has what I need to crack this wide open. I get inside, I get the fabricator running, and then..." She gestured vaguely.

"Science happens." Jackhammer exhaled—a man bracing for impact.

"Are you really Kelly? I've confirmed it already, but..." His eye twitched.

"You used to be normal." Kelly hummed, tilting her head.

"Eh. You said that already." She gave a so-so motion with her hand.

"And define 'normal.'" Before the loops, she'd never swung a sword—a small knife, maybe, when she was twelve. Her childhood may have had a checkered spot, a few years she tried not to remember, but before the loops the only weapon she'd fired was an airgun. Now? Now she wasn't sure if she'd always had a hidden talent for high-stakes brutality. Either she was a natural-born killer, or dying a hundred times had just hammered it into her skull. She was smart.

But being smart wasn't an achievement—it was just a thing that happened, like bad weather or corporate fraud. Sure she was smart, but was she a natural-born fighter or just someone who would never quit? Kelly didn't know which.

"Probably both," she muttered to herself as she pressed in an alteration to her blade. Jackhammer watched her work.

"Still a workaholic," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. Kelly shot him a look.

"And you're still playing hall monitor... What's the deal, anyway? Simon's guys at the door should be a walk in the park for you and the staff inside. Why are they still breathing?" Jackhammer didn't answer immediately. Instead, he met her eyes and handed her a set of specialised military glasses, then he lifted his chin slightly, his own eyes flicking upward. Kelly followed his gaze, though she already knew what she'd see. Another Suicide Squad.