Chapter 24 – Network Confrontation
Beirson stepped out of the taxi, bone-weary after another long day.
Ever since he'd gotten rich, he never took the public bus anymore. Ten credits was a small price for the luxury of lying back in a cab, straight from work to his doorstep. Why subject himself to that old struggle again?
But the moment he spotted the Avenger parked outside his home, he froze.
Something was wrong.
Without thinking, he sprinted to the front door. Panic flickered in his eyes.
Unlocked.
He burst into the living room.
A man was seated comfortably, gently holding his mother's hand as he spoke kindly to her. In the kitchen, two women laughed softly while prepping dishes—fluent, coordinated, at home.
"Oh! You're back!" Ash looked up from the dining table and flashed a disarming smile. "Perfect timing. Dinner's ready. Wash up first."
Ash moved about like he owned the place. He helped Beirson's recovering mother into the seat of honor and motioned for the others to bring out the food.
"Tonight's special is steak," said Sandayu Oda, donned in a simple apron and radiating the composed elegance of a homemaker. Her gentle voice soothed the old woman.
"Good, good, good!" Beirson's mother was visibly touched. To have the wife of her son's superior cooking for her—it was overwhelming.
"Don't worry," Sandayu added with a smile. "It's easy to chew."
The meal included steak, fried shrimp, apple pie, yogurt salad, cakes, and fresh fruit. Luxuries far beyond what Beirson could've afforded on his old salary.
Steak was the cheapest item on the table. Fruit was the real prize. With widespread desertification, acid rain, and radiation scorching the land, trees were rare. Fruit was sold individually in stores, rationed and precious.
Ash had brought bananas and grapes, barely two kilos altogether, yet costing over 300 credits. Still too expensive for Beirson, who'd only buy a few pieces now and then—for his wife and mother.
His family never bothered with pre-meal prayers. When seated, they simply began.
---
Fifteen minutes later.
"So, how was work today?" Ash asked, slicing into his steak casually.
"Fine," Beirson replied stiffly, his posture rigid.
"I see." Ash dabbed his mouth with a napkin. "I'll be out of town for a bit. Company matters fall to you."
"Oh... okay."
"And one more thing—copy this." He produced a slim data chip from his jacket and handed it over. "It's important."
Beirson hesitated, then took it. "Understood."
"I can trust you, right?" Ash asked, finishing his steak.
"Yes." What else could Beirson say? His mind was spinning.
"Good." Ash set down the napkin and stood. "Apologies, ma'am. I've got to catch a ride. Next time, I'll tell you the story of a man who changed his life—for his family."
"I'd like that," the old woman smiled. "Beirson, see our guests out."
"Huh? Oh, right."
Beirson trailed behind them to the door.
"Beirson," Ash said, turning.
"Yes?"
"You've got a good thing here. Don't throw it away for a bad call. That'd be a shame."
His words hovered somewhere between advice and threat.
Ash spared a glance at a gray car down the street, gave a wry smile, and left with Sandayu.
---
Back inside, Beirson barely responded to his wife's questions. In his study, he stared at the chip in his palm, unsure what to do.
The company had strict rules: no external devices. No one wanted a rogue upload tanking the entire corporate network.
Employee terminals didn't even have ports. Only department heads had access.
And Beirson wasn't that high up.
Before he could think further, someone pounded on the door.
"Who are you?! Hey!" his wife's voice rang out.
Beirson rushed out.
Armed soldiers in white-blue tactical armor swept through the apartment like a virus.
"Tarkov?" Beirson blinked, stunned. "What's going on?"
"No time. What did those two want?" Tarkov snapped.
"They… had dinner with us."
"And?" another voice cut in—commanding, cold.
"This is Colonel Simpson, commander of the Security Force's Third Division," Tarkov whispered. "Don't lie."
"They gave me this." Beirson held out the chip like it was radioactive.
"Carter!" Simpson barked.
A young tech stepped forward, grabbed the chip, and slotted it into a portable rig on the kitchen table.
"Huh?" Carter's brow furrowed. "It's not empty… it's being filled?"
Wait.
Suddenly, his face turned white. He yanked out the chip—but the data stream kept climbing.
"A trap!" he hissed.
Fingers flying, Carter fought to shut the upload down. Foreign code surged across his display—fast, efficient, brutal.
A light-blue sphere formed on-screen.
"They're hacking Military Technology!" Simpson growled.
Carter's sweat dripped onto the keyboard. He couldn't even trace them—just surviving their probe took all his processing power.
Suddenly, allied data streams emerged—internal firewalls responding to the breach.
The enemy paused.
"They've stopped. Ten seconds! I can trace their—"
The stream detonated.
Carter's screen glitched, turned cobalt blue, and buzzed angrily.
"Damn it!"
He nearly smashed the laptop—corporate property, sadly.
"They got away?" Simpson glared at the wrecked terminal.
"Yes. Worse—they stole confidential data. We'll know what, once the classified team decrypts it."
Simpson's face darkened.
"They also wiped all video and stills," Carter added grimly. "My machine's cleaner than new—system's gone."
And thank God he hadn't used a direct neural uplink. Otherwise, he might've ended up comatose.
Wait.
His memory… was fading.
"What did they look like?" Carter turned to Beirson, now pale and silent. "Tell me. What did they look like?!"
"I—" Beirson struggled to remember. "One man, one woman… my height... and then... I forgot."
Simpson slapped him hard. "Don't think. Just speak!"
"About my height… male… female… I—can't... I forgot everything..."
Simpson cursed and stormed out.
The trail had gone cold. Even security cameras had likely been wiped.
---
In a speeding car, Ash drove one-handed as Nova Li—once known as Li Hua Kui—stirred awake in the passenger seat. Her brain was still syncing back after jacking directly into the net. It always left a haze.
"A little dizzy," she muttered, rubbing her temples.
"Nothing useful?" Ash asked.
"Not really," she sighed, scrolling through recovered files. "Conditions were too tight."
"No matter," he said. "Just shaking the tree for fruit."
Nova paused. "Huh. A new post—500,000 bounty for a fugitive: Anthony Gilchrist. Looks like an internal leak."
Ash glanced over. The picture showed a refined man in his 40s—glasses, lab coat.
"A researcher?" he mused.
"Want to chase it?" Nova smirked.
That was how hackers proved their worth—by either breaking firewalls or holding the line.
Nova didn't have Takumi Kai's marksmanship to kill from a mile out. Nor Tanaka's brute force to charge enemy lines. Nor could she provide field mobility like others on their squad.
But she didn't need to.
Ash's protection—and her terrifying net skills—made her invaluable. She could find anyone, anywhere. As long as she was online, the team was untouchable.
The only downside? When she was in full dive mode, she was nearly blind to the physical world.
That's why Ash never let her go far.
On down days, Ash gave her practice targets—like tracking Beirson's contacts or location.
They'd been burned this time—but when one door closed, another opened.
A 500,000-credit package was in the wind. The only question was: who would catch it first?
Ash leaned back, eyes on the neon city skyline.
"Alright," he said. "Let's play."