May 25th held no significance for Nemo, who saw it as just another regular page on the calendar. However, little did he know that he was about to face his most troublesome adversary yet, one that would leave an unforgettable mark after their first encounter.
Nemo thought it was just another routine physical training session. Naturally, he had the elevator stop on the gym floor, but unexpectedly, the elevator automatically ascended to the top floor. It was another one of the billionaire’s manual operations. Nemo reluctantly followed the familiar path through the empty art corridor, heading toward the office of the Grimm Group’s leader—an office he knew all too well.
When he entered, Matthew was in his usual office mode, with piles of folders and reports stacked on his desk. The aftermath of the Meteor Shower Event was still fresh, and no one trusted digital files anymore. The world’s richest man was dressed in a sharp three-piece suit—dashing, though Nemo couldn’t help but wonder if he wasn’t uncomfortable in it. Fortunately, the office’s air conditioning was still at a decent level.
In contrast, the curly-haired young man was dressed in casual workout gear, a sign he had come for exercise rather than business.
Nemo wasn’t a fan of the cold, but honestly, he couldn’t stand the heat and stuffiness either. The ideal environment for him was something like Lakeview Villa, or even a simple camping trip in the mountains, with natural air conditioning and cool breezes. When it got too cold, he could just start a fire or wrap up in a sleeping bag. He wasn’t fond of enclosed spaces with central air conditioning.
"You know that theory you mentioned a while ago—about the Greens hiding in water-rich wilderness environments? I passed it along to the military, and they reported it to the president. By the way, you don’t mind me withholding your name, right?" Matthew said, knowing Nemo’s habits and deciding to take the initiative.
"If you dare expose me, I’ll have no choice but to silence you," Nemo quipped, sipping from a prepared iced tea on the desk, narrowing his eyes in satisfaction.
At some point, Matthew had gotten Nemo a personalized mug, black with gold and green letters “K.” Nemo assumed it was a reference to "Capton," as in Latin, the letters C and K are interchangeable. It seemed like one of Matthew's playful riddles, but Nemo didn’t give it much thought.
"The military has deployed a drone squad to search the Mississippi Delta and upstream 24/7. They’ve caught some interesting footage," Matthew continued, casually tapping a few keys on the desk. A screen on the wall immediately flickered to life.
The camera zoomed in, revealing thirteen figures, ragged clothes caked in mud, half-swimming, half-walking, skillfully approaching each other. Some held long wooden spears, some carried fishnets, and others were empty-handed. Judging by their decaying, crusted skin and facial wounds, these were undoubtedly infected Greens who had been exposed for a while.
The tension mounted as the Greens landed on the sandbar. Just as Nemo thought they were about to fight each other, they instead sat down and began talking, exchanging information. The fishers were organizing their catch, placing it into bags, which they handed to those without any. The spearmen stood guard like warriors.
The conversation continued for about ten minutes, but the drone didn’t capture any audio. AI lip-reading software added subtitles, revealing they were discussing the New Orleans monsters, news from New York City, and even topics about superheroes. Suddenly, the drone was spotted, and one of the spearmen hurled a spear at it—unfortunately, missing due to poor aim and altitude.
"Run!" Several loud shouts were clearly recorded.
"We're not sure if it's a Bermuda Triangle effect there, but radio communications are often disrupted by unknown forces. Early on, we could hear some conversations, but once the drones were exposed, they stopped using radios. Even when filmed, they wore masks. There are definitely military-background infected among the Greens—whether retired or active duty. The military is still sifting through data. If they’re veterans, that would complicate things even more," Matthew said.
"It looks like they’ve already organized themselves and figured out how to survive," Nemo couldn’t help but admire the Americans' ability to get things done.
"During the Mississippi Delta operation, the military asked me to be an advisor. They inquired if I wanted to capture samples. I stopped them from attacking and suggested they distribute flyers along the riverbank, stating that the Grimm Group would be willing to send a Green scientist to talk to them online. We attached communication equipment to a drone and dropped it at the sandbar where we first discovered the gathering. A day later, a Green contacted us," Matthew continued.
Matthew explained that the military and state government’s chaotic handling would soon lead to a civil war. There wasn’t a reliable think tank on the Meteor Shower Event, and what was worse, they needed more than one. The existing old-school strategy analysis think tanks were just spouting nonsense.
"Mark Freeman, an African-American male in his fifties, divorced and living alone, was one of the earliest people to provide blood samples and register as a victim of the kaiju blood-sea water contamination. His career and personality matched his name—a free-spirited journalist. He was on the East Coast when the kaiju first landed and later checked into a government-designated hospital. Aside from his infection, he was also concerned about investigating how New York City was handling the aftermath of the kaiju blood-sea victims." A short-haired Black man’s profile appeared on the screen, and Nemo recognized him as a key figure. He held his breath and watched intently.
"Freeman later published a report online criticizing the city government’s careless handling of the contaminated seawater and infectious diseases. The conclusion could be summed up in one line: 'This whole thing is a shitshow.' The mainstream media suppressed and deleted his article, and soon after, he secretly rallied a group of victims who had seen the report and contacted him. They decided to leave New York City and escape civilization to protect themselves. Among them were doctors and other experts, though not all of them left electronic traces. They discussed the best place to survive, which you later figured out," Matthew said.
"It was just a flash of insight. If it were me, before meeting you, I probably would have done the same," Nemo shrugged.
"Yeah! When we first met, you were up in the mountains looking for a safe refuge," Matthew sighed.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
"That's why I feel it’s necessary to destroy these patients' hope of finding a utopia. I still feel quite sorry about it," Nemo said, pointing at the paused screen. "Continue."
The screen displayed recordings and various daily photos of the Greens whose identities were exposed due to their appearance. The Greens from the Mississippi River reported that they had established a self-sustaining tribe. If the government respected them and provided necessary assistance, they wouldn't cross any boundaries.
Tribe leader Mark Freeman was willing to personally allow the Grimm Group's green scientist to draw his blood to prove that he was among the first wave of infected during the East Coast Kaiju attacks. He was not only still lucid but had evolved to become stronger, able to lead his tribe and represent over three hundred Greens in negotiations with the U.S. government.
"After the first contact, my Green scientist successfully brought back Mark's blood sample, confirming their claims. The Mississippi River tribe of infected people has far surpassed our understanding of the Greens. The degeneration has indeed slowed, and their bodies have strengthened to a degree, but that doesn't mean the kaiju infection is cured. However, they are certainly in better 'health' than the Greens housed by the government," Matthew explained.
"I've designed and provided a transparent offshore negotiation room for the military. Imagine a combination shipping container modified from a tsunami escape pod. It's connected by chains to a new hospital ship parked at the river's mouth. The surrounding waters are lined with smart sea mines, and both sides can onsly swim or use small boats to reach the negotiation room."
"So, the government’s Greens containment plan has serious errors and technical issues. They've finally found someone to clean up after them. If the talks break down, Grimm Group will also bear part of the responsibility," Nemo remarked, resting against the armchair, surprised that the curly-haired youth could draw such a complicated mess with a mere gesture on the map.
"Mark Freeman has appointed me as the witness for the negotiations. Otherwise, all future discussions may not exist. If the Grimm Group weren't bound by U.S. laws and had to cooperate with the military, they would likely want to talk directly with me," Matthew said, a hint of pride in his voice.
"So when are you joining the negotiations? It would be easier to just tell me after it’s done. This way, I’ll need to follow up with a two-part series," Nemo said, eager to return to practicing combat techniques in the virtual room.
"Today, right now. Hope you have a basic understanding," Matthew said, pulling out a black suit that resembled a diving suit, along with the packaging, and handed it to Nemo. "Bulletproof shirt. It was just finalized, meeting the U.S. military's NIJ Level 4 protection standards, but this is made from soft material without the hard armor plates. The composite fibers and special weaving can effectively absorb the bullet’s initial speed, and then, through friction and heat energy, the special fibers transform into ceramic hardness. It will also convert part of the impact into sound energy. If you're hit, you'll hear a sonic boom-like sound, so don’t be startled."
"I’m going too? Have you finally lost your mind?"
"If the helicopter crashes and we fall into the Mississippi River region, who has more hands-on experience with the Greens than you?" Matthew replied.
"I dealt with brain-dead Greens at the Carnation Community, and that was on land. If we fall into the water, I’ll just float like a jellyfish. You’d be better off waterproofing your checkbook," Nemo said, never having been fond of public swimming pools.
After passing the required swimming class in college, Nemo had stayed far away from any environment where drowning could be a risk.
"But this time, the U.S. military will handle the protection, and I’m only allowed to bring one personal bodyguard to the negotiations. My other bodyguards are all the same, but at least I can talk with you," Matthew said, emphasizing how important Nemo’s ability to chat was. "If you're afraid of danger and don't want to go, that's fine."
"One Green tribe leader alone, coming in, surrounded by U.S. military and sea mines in a transparent negotiation room, and you're talking about danger?"
"Biological hazard. One sneeze is enough. To respect the other side, we won’t wear protective suits during the talks. I’ve emphasized to the military that alcohol disinfection won’t help. As long as we don't ingest bodily fluids or have prolonged contact, we won’t be infected, because it’s the supernatural powers of the monsters. The special forces and federal officials handling this negotiation are, of course, not afraid, or they wouldn’t have volunteered," Matthew explained."If getting sprayed with saliva would cause infection, at least half of New York’s population would be infected by now."
"I get it. I'm the least likely to get infected by the monster disease, so being your personal bodyguard during the negotiation is the most economical choice, with the added bonus of chatting and monster-fighting skills."
"You’re forgetting the benefit to my positive image with Asian friends, and that Mark Freeman is African American. The more diverse the race of those present, the less psychological resistance there will be. It will also help gain the trust of Asian Greens among the infected. As Mark Freeman’s leadership grows, he’ll like me more, making cooperation smoother, and the government will cause less trouble for me. Even if it’s just a 0.1% reduction, it’s worth it," Matthew said, showing his business-like enthusiasm for maximizing profits and minimizing costs.
Even if it was just a little, it was still a profit, Nemo thought. "But I don’t want to wear the bulletproof shirt. Since the negotiation environment is already so safe, I’d like to show more respect for the other side."
Matthew patiently explained, "The U.S. military requires that personal bodyguards wear protective gear. I managed to get approval for you to wear our company’s product."
Nemo, skeptical, retorted, "I strongly doubt the truth of that. Since they’re supposed to handle your protection, I’m just an honorary attendant. The limit on numbers is just to prevent making a scene."
"You’ll wear a down vest with no complaints, but you don’t like this new spider silk-based synthetic fiber bulletproof shirt that’s as snug as a suit, and way cooler than your down vest? It’s not too flashy, not too black, not too plain?" Matthew asked, raising his eyes to the sky in frustration.
"It’s hot outside, and the suit’s already uncomfortable. With this on, I can barely breathe. Are the Greens of the Mississippi Delta going to shoot me?" Matthew didn’t deny it, so it really was a lie. Nemo seriously wanted to grab a chair and hit him with it.
"You never know. If they can still pull a trigger, they can shoot," Matthew replied confidently. "Besides, you haven’t worn it yet. How could my bulletproof shirt not have breathable features?"
"Have you worn it?" Nemo shot back.
"Of course, leading by example." Matthew dramatically opened his shirt, revealing a black, form-fitting bulletproof shirt beneath.
"Fine, I’ll change," Nemo finally agreed, seeing that Matthew wasn’t making any special exceptions.
After changing into the shirt, Nemo stepped out of the lounge, uncomfortably tugging at the sleeves of his suit jacket. "You didn’t say it was long-sleeved."
"This is an improved version after the Carnation Community incident, designed to prevent stabbings and bites. Ideally, it would have a high collar, but it’s too hot. You’ll have to take care of your neck," Matthew gently advised. "When you poke them with a broom, won’t the tribal Green warriors use sharpened branches or metal pipes to poke back? Your dodging skills during our last sparring session were still lacking, especially the times you only avoided hits using your superpowers. Let’s be honest, that’s not ‘skill.’"
Matthew had finally seen the state Nemo was in when his powers activated.
"How long is this negotiation going to take?" Nemo asked.
"One goal is to get the military to establish a blockade, and the Greens have to strictly adhere to not crossing the line. The military will agree to provide regular supplies and medicine, but the tribal Greens want to expand their operational territory. There are still a few proposals in discussion, and they believe I, as the representative of Grimm Group, can facilitate the best outcome. Where did they get such confidence?" Matthew said.
"How long it takes mainly depends on your performance, right?" Nemo asked.
"No, it depends on the intellect and emotional intelligence of the federal representative officer. He’s one of the candidates for the future Secretary of Defense. His credentials are decent, and if he can help secure this negotiation with the Greens, his position is practically guaranteed," Matthew explained.
"So how do we get to the negotiation room by the river mouth?" Nemo asked.
"After I miraculously survived the space station disaster, the U.S. government granted me special self-defense rights, but I can only use weapons developed by Grimm Group, with no foreign technology mixed in. As long as they’re registered, I can use them, including combat helicopters and missiles. But unless there’s an extreme emergency, like an alien ship invasion, my armed aircraft aren’t allowed in urban areas. So, we have to fly to the maintenance center first, then switch to a combat helicopter. Since today’s schedule is a bit special, we’ve also gotten clearance for the hospital ship to take off," Matthew explained.
"All this just for one Green person?" Nemo asked. "Couldn’t we just use a regular helicopter?"
"Nemo, you like playing games. Let me ask you: does a game map only have one type of monster? Even if I choose to retreat rather than engage in combat, hijacking a U.S. military attack helicopter is hardly an option, wouldn’t you agree? Civilian helicopters are nothing in air combat," Matthew reasoned.
Okay, fine! He just didn’t think it all the way through.
"So, we’ll land on the hospital ship first, then join the special forces?" Nemo summarized.
"Exactly."
"Let’s go then!"