“We got jumped by another Kobashi-kai asshole, it seems,” Devin answers between pained breaths before simply stopping and resting against the wall.

“This one killed himself too,” Atreus adds. “These guys actually go so far as to commit suicide instead of allowing themselves to get caught.”

“Jesus Christ, you guys just walked out of my apartment and you already conjure up a dead body out of nowhere?” Tetsuya asks, pointing at the corpse. “And you go and get fucking shot?” he says, looking at Devin.

“Yeah, I totally don't need an ambulance or anything right now, thanks for fucking asking,” Devin fires back, obviously in no mood to hear complaints. “Anyway, Atreus, maybe you should go ahead and just deliver the – oh, fuck.” His eyes trail downward slightly and grow wide. His mouth becomes agape with shock.

“What?” Atreus asks.

“You... You got fucking shot, dude,” Devin points down at Atreus midsection.

The augmented man looks down, and while it's difficult to see on his black vest, it had become moist with blood, causing a wet trail to glisten under the light at the correct angle. The entry wound seems to be directly under his rib cage, several inches off-center to the left.

“Fuck...” Atreus utters, gently pressing a finger on his wound and feeling a sudden stab of pain. He likely received it while he was still rushing the assailant from behind his shields, which probably weren't big enough to stop this one bullet. In fact, if it were a couple inches more to the left, it would've simply grazed him instead of hit him head-on.

Atreus, now aware of his wound, starts to feel the pain of it creep up, but the entry point isn't the only spot that aches. He turns around to show his back to Devin while trying to turn his head and shoulders to catch a glimpse of what turns out to be the exit wound.

“Oh, shit,” Devin utters, already having half-forgotten about his own injury.

“Jesus Christ, man,” Tetsuya remarks in equal shock. “Fuck, I'll call an ambulance.”

“No, wait!” Atreus stops Tetsuya while wincing in pain, gently pressing his hand on his wound. “Here, Devin, get out your phone,” he gives an order while taking his own phone out of his pocket.

“W-why?” Devin asks, confused, but still complying, taking his phone out of the pocket on the uninjured leg.

“I'll send you Colter's number. You just give him another call, and he'll be here.” Atreus sends Colter's contact information in only a few swipes of his thumb.

“Wait, what are you going to do?”

“I need to deliver this fucking USB drive to Okada so he can protect it and try to print copies until we can hand it over to someone who can fucking do something about Zephir – probably Colter again. Just stay here and call him, alright?” The gut-shot gangster explains has his breathing grows somewhat ragged and begin to walk to the elevator.

“You're shot in the stomach, man! There might be more Kobashi-kai assholes out there!”

“Well, you're shot in the leg, so you're in less of a condition to be moving around than me, and if anyone here's equipped to deal with more of those dickheads, it's me.” Atreus stops momentarily and stands his ground on the matter, but marks his statement with a subtle groan from the pain of his wound. “Just fucking trust me, alright? I'll go straight to headquarters and then get treatment afterward. It'll be fine.” He resumes walking away, slightly hunched over to alleviate the pain a minimal amount.

“But– Agh!” Devin tries to walk after his friend, but his leg injury stops him. “You better fucking stay alive! Keep your eyes open for more of those dickheads!”

Atreus waves casually just as he reaches the elevator and summons it up. He notices a bullet hole in the black, reflective glass of the sliding doors at head level. If it hit him or Devin, they would undoubtedly be dead by now. The elevator's arrival cuts his reflective moment short, and he steps inside to ride back down to the lobby. During the wait, he uses his phone to summon another Automa to pick him up. When he hears the loud ding of arrival, he quickly straightens his posture, hoping to not draw any attention on his way out of the building.

By the time he steps out to the sidewalk, the Automa is already there, allowing him to enter it immediately without wandering eyes catching either his bloody vest, pained gait, or sweaty face. As he seats himself, the change in posture causes a sharp stabbing sensation in both his entry and exit wounds, but he adjusts himself to take pressure off his injuries, heaving a labored sigh to help maintain composure.

He looks down at his gut and sees that simply sitting has caused a great amount of blood to gush from his abdomen at once; his wound is absolutely not superficial. As a double amputee, he has less blood circulating his body than a normal adult male with all of his limbs. Thus, he has less time before he eventually loses consciousness, or even dies. Realizing his urgency, he quickly begins the ride to headquarters and pulls out his phone to call Okada, using his other hand to put pressure on his wound to hopefully slow the bleeding down. Unfortunately, the presence of an exit wound at his back makes it difficult.

“Hello?” the senior advisor answers before the end of the second ring.

“Oyaji, it's me,” Atreus responds with uneven breaths. “I cracked the USB drive. I know what Zephir was doing.”

“Jesus, are you alright, Watanabe-kun? What's wrong? You sound ragged.”

“Zephir Industries is... using old weapons engineering technology to create a substance that strengthens peoples' resistance to augmentations,” Atreus continues, ignoring his superior's questions.

“What the hell?” Okada is dumbfounded. Though he isn't sure what he expected from the documents, it certainly wasn't this. “Is this just to make more money from Aperibrum sales? That's what this is all about?”

“They're already beginning human tests, so... it's close to completion. They're trying to make it so that if you can catch one whiff of the stuff, augmented people will need to multiply their Aperibrum dosages. We'll... we'll need to keep taking it for the rest of our lives, and pay more money for it than we can afford,” Atreus continues talking, gradually finding it more difficult to talk. He looks down at his wound, and the blood is starting to stain the seat.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Shit. How close are you? You still have the USB drive on you, right? And why do you sound like you're in pain? What happened, Atreus?” Okada continues grilling his subordinate out of sheer worry and heightening urgency, even dropping his usual, formal way of speaking.

“There was another one... Another Kobashi-kai assassin. He... He shot me.”

“Shot you?!” the senior advisor echoes in a surprised yell. “Jesus Christ. Where are you? Are you in an Automa? How far are you from headquarters?”

“I should be there in about... six minutes,” the wounded gangster recites the estimated time of arrival displayed on the screen in front of him, but finds it harder and harder to withstand the pain.

“Fuck, alright, hold on. Stay on the line. Rachel!” Okada's voice suddenly sounds distant as he's brings his phone away from his face to bark out orders to his android. “Tell the guards out front to open the gate and keep it open! Then tell my men to meet me out there! You still there, Atreus?” Okada's voice comes back to the phone. “Are you conscious?” His breathing sounds hastened, as if he's running.

“Yeah... I am,” Atreus answers in a slight daze.

“Where were you shot?”

“In the stomach... It went through me, so I'm bleeding through two holes, here.”

“Just stay calm, alright? Keep breathing, slowly. Keep your eyes open. Don't think about your wound too much. Are you getting lightheaded?” Okada tries to give a steady stream of comments, advice, and questions going to keep Atreus alert.

“A little bit.”

“Just stay on the line. I'll stay on too, right up until you pull in, okay? ...Hey! What are you standing around for? Didn't you get the message? Go outside!” the advisor shouts more orders to his men, who are presumably still idling in the headquarters lobby. “I'm heading out to the gate right now, I'll be here as soon you pull up. You still okay?”

“Yeah... I'm fine,” Atreus answers slowly and groggily.

His breaths are calm and long, but he notices that the pain is gradually starting to dull, and it's harder to keep his eyes open. He looks down at his seat and feels the moistness of the blood down his stomach and small of his back, and even on his thigh; he's practically steeped in it as he waits to arrive at headquarters. The wounded gangster looks at the passenger touchscreen again. The estimated time of arrival has just dropped below four minutes. He could've sworn more time has passed than that.

“What happened to the person who shot you? Did they escape?” Okada continues talking, both to gain information and to ensure Atreus stays alert and focused away from his wound.

“He... He killed himself, like the other guy... Swallowed a suicide pill. I couldn't get anything out of him.”

“That's fine. I'm sure we'll figure something out. Was anyone else with you? Were you alone?”

“I brought... I brought Devin. He was shot in the leg. I told him... to call Colter while I deliver the drive.”

“Why didn't you stay with him? You could've gotten help sooner that way.”

“I'd have to give the drive over to the police if I did that... I wanted to make sure you got to see it first, get to see for yourself what... Zephir and the Kobashi-kai are planning. The... The other patriarchs should know, too.”

“Okay. Okay. You did good, Atreus,” Okada, impressed by his subordinate's dedication despite dire circumstance, gives sincere praise. “You did really good. Once you get here, all of this shit will hopefully be over. You'll be done with the task I've given you.” He brings his phone away from his face again to resume barking out more orders to his men. “Ito! Call an ambulance! Tell them we have someone here who was shot in the stomach!”

Atreus finds it harder to keep his eyes open and his head up. He looks down at his seat again, and a red puddle has begun to pool up on the leather, his clothes having already soaked up as much as they could.

“An ambulance is on its way, Atreus,” Okada comes back to the phone. “It'll be here immediately after you arrive. Stay awake, okay?”

Atreus can't really muster the strength to respond verbally anymore, but he hears Okada's voice and tries to stay conscious. He lets his head rest against the back of the seat, and he stares blankly at the ceiling of the car. He wants to sleep. He feels exhausted. A sudden chime from his phone interrupts his quiet desire for rest – the familiar tone of an incoming text message. He looks at the screen to see who it could be.

[Hey, are you done doing whatever it is you're doing?] the message, from Max, casually asks. It's nearly 3 AM, so her shift must've been over for a while now.

He wants to type a reply, but his thumb can barely move. It hardly has the strength left to even wrap itself around the phone. Even if he could type right now, what would he even say? Tell the truth and say he's bleeding out in a driverless taxi? Or lie and respond with an 'I'm fine' before he inevitably blacks out? He's almost thankful that he doesn't have the energy to reply or he'd end up saying the wrong thing regardless.

“Atreus, are you still with me?” Okada's voice is heard again.

Still, Atreus can't force out a single utterance if he tried. Rather than speak, he heaves a sigh next to his phone, hoping the sound of his breath will give the advisor the answer he's looking for. His vision is starting to become blurry. The lights of the bright, neon signs outside his window all start to blur together. The yellowish squares that are lit windows transform into increasingly fuzzy circles. He sees the beginning of a familiar concrete wall tracing the perimeter of a large lot, then he feels the vehicle finally come to a halt. Human-shaped silhouettes approach the passenger door Atreus is limply leaning against and pull it open.

“Atreus!” Okada's voice calls out.

The wounded gangster feels the hands of multiple Okada family men try to gently lift him out of the car, but he can't offer any assistance, as he has no energy to spare. He attempts to step out, but immediately falls forward, caught by palms of the other gangsters in suits.

“Jesus Christ, this blood,” the senior advisor utters in horror as he sees the dark stains covering nearly the entirety of Atreus's abdomen, hips, and half the car seat. “Here, set him down! Put pressure on the wound!” He removes his blazer, folds it up, and places it under Atreus's head, to spare him the discomfort of the sidewalk. “Atreus, can you hear me?” he asks, hovering over his dying subordinate with eyes of deep concern.

Atreus's vision continues to grow darker. The edges of his sight start to fade out with a slightly pulsating vignetting effect. He gradually sticks his index and middle fingers into his pocket, and shows the USB drive, its outer case wet from blood, to Okada.

“Here...” the wounded man says in a breathy utterance.

Okada clasps, but keeps his hold on Atreus's hand. “You did good, Atreus,” he praises his subordinate again. “I knew I could count on you. I'm proud of you.”

Though the elder man's face stays resolute, his left eye grows moist. However, Atreus's vision has become too unfocused to notice. The sound of sirens enter earshot, prompting Okada to lift his head and look down the street.

“The ambulance is coming, Atreus. Hold on,” he says, tightening his grip on the dying gangster's hand.

Atreus can no longer keep his eyes open. Content with the delivery that he promised to make, he finally allows his eyelids to close. The blaring sirens grow louder and louder before reaching an apex, followed by the sounds and sensation of his body being placed on a stretcher and wheeled into the ambulance. As he fights to maintain the last bit of consciousness he clutches onto, he feels the touch of the EMTs tending to his injuries, along with their barely perceptible words of encouragement to stay alive. A final flash of images appear in his mind, with the last one in his mind being a picture of his phone's screen – of the text Max sent that he couldn't respond to.

Finally, all sounds cease, and all he sees is black.