Chapter 52 The Message

“You’ve got what now?” Conor asked, smile gone.

“A message,” Shachiku repeated, “Straight from Schmuck’s hand. Real-time adjustment. Project retrieval’s still priority, but the scientist? She’s marked for cooperation. He changed the plan.”

Before Shachiku could say another word, Ichiban suddenly stepped forward.

“Shachiku-san? What—what are you still doing here? How—how did you even get in?! This is a locked-down black site—this place is under quarantine! You’re a contractor, not security! What are you thinking!?”

She was about to ask more, but Conor blocked her with an arm, pushing her back gently—but firmly.

“Not now, doc,” Conor muttered without taking his eyes off Shachiku. 

Then he turned toward Kaiju.

 “Is this guy for real? Is what he’s saying legit? You hear anything from Schmuck about new orders? Anything about this guy?”

Kaiju blinked, caught between the merc’s tension and Ichiban’s bewilderment. He adjusted his glasses with a shaky hand.

 “I—I don’t know. No one told me anything about plan changes. Schmuck doesn’t talk to me about his hired muscle. I’m just a systems biologist. And that guy,” he gestured to Shachiku, “he’s Ichiban’s supply guy. Delivers her reagents, manages the materials budget. Paperwork pusher. That's all I know about him.”

Conor snorted.

 “Figures. Damn pen-pushers.”

But Shachiku didn’t miss a beat. Veteran salaryman instincts kicked in. He stepped forward, calm as a monk at a bombsite.

“Yeah. That’s exactly what you were supposed to think. That’s the whole point.”

Conor’s smirk faltered, if only slightly.

Shachiku pressed on. 

“You think Schmuck sends real assets through the front door? No. I’ve been working under his table for the past year. Keeping eyes on Ichiban’s progress. Watching who she talks to. What she develops. Where the samples go.” 

He tapped the side of his head like there was a whole intel database stashed inside.

“I was told to wait until the facility hit redline. If it did, I was to make contact. That time? It’s now.”

Mike glanced sideways at him but said nothing—playing along, or just curious where this lie would land.

“Bullshit,” one of Conor’s men muttered, raising his rifle a little higher.

But Conor held up a hand, eyes narrowed

 “That’s a hell of a story. But I'm not convinced yet.”

Shachiku didn’t blink. 

“And you think I’d walk into this clusterfuck if I was lying? You think Schmuck’d be okay with you putting a bullet in the one who might still know what she’s been working on behind closed doors?”

Ichiban stared at him, mouth slightly open, brain visibly trying to stitch together what she knew of Shachiku with this sudden act.

Kaiju whispered to Conor, “He’s full of it. I think. But… I can’t prove he’s not. How does he know about the plan?”

Conor glanced at Ichiban. Then Kaiju. Then back to Shachiku.

Finally, he muttered, “God damn it, I hate freelancers. And we can't make a call to be sure. I hate when plans change mid-motion.”

“Alright, you’re still not convinced. Fine. Let me spell it out for you.”

Conor didn’t move, but the twitch in his jaw said he was listening. 

Shachiku lifted a hand slowly and pointed straight at Kaiju.

“He was never meant to get her out of here. That wasn’t his job. He was supposed to steal the cure. Swap it for the fake—the version that spreads the crystallization, the one that turns everyone into statues. You’ve seen what it does. That’s not a glitch. That was planned.”

Ichiban looked like she’d been hit in the face.

 “What—Kaiju? No. That’s insane. He wouldn’t—”

Shachiku ignored her and kept going, fast, before anyone had time to argue.

 “Schmuck wanted the fake out there. Public release. Blame the outbreak on the lab. Burn the evidence. Meanwhile, he keeps the real thing for himself—patents it, owns the rights, sells the cure at whatever price he wants.”

He turned to Conor again, eyes steady. 

“Now, you tell me. How the hell would I know that unless I was on the inside?”

The mercenaries shifted, some glancing between Conor and Kaiju. Doubt was creeping in like gas under a locked door.

“And you think I came alone?” Shachiku continued, his voice steady, confident. He gestured casually toward Mike. 

“Brought a little insurance. Local security—hardened, ex-field, doesn’t flinch under pressure. You think I got through all this without help?”

Mike grunted but didn’t deny it.

Then Shachiku jabbed a thumb at Akarui.

 “And him? His father’s high-ranking military brass. A real heavy-hitter. We all walk out with Ichiban and the data, and daddy makes sure your names don’t even get whispered when this all goes public. You get out clean. Retired, rich, and still breathing.”

Conor’s smirk had vanished now. He looked at Shachiku like a man trying to spot a crack in a perfect sculpture. But there were too many details. Too much confidence. Too much something.

Kaiju stammered, “I—I didn’t swap anything! I don’t know what he’s talking about! I don’t even know how to fabricate a fake serum—”

“Drop the act, egghead. Schmuck been paying us for years, told us to look after your ass so you wouldn't make too many mistakes,” Mike muttered trying to sell Shachiku's lie.

Ichiban stood frozen for a long moment, eyes locked on Kaiju like she was seeing him for the first time. Her breath hitched in her throat, lips parted, but no words came right away. Her hands, usually so calm, trembled at her sides. The red emergency lights flashed across her face, making her eyes glint like wet glass.

"Six years..." she finally said, "Six years, Kaiju."

Kaiju flinched at the sound of her voice—so soft, but full of weight it might as well have crushed him.

"I let you into my lab. My life. You knew everything—every version, every failure, every breakthrough. I told you things I didn’t even tell closest friends. I trusted you when no one else would even give you a keycard!"

Kaiju tried to speak, but she cut him off, voice rising sharp and shaking. 

"Don't. Don’t lie. Not to me. Not now. I watched people die because of that mutation, and the whole time you—what? You smiled in my face while swapping vials behind my back?!"

Her fist clenched, and for a second, it looked like she might strike him. But instead, she just shook her head, eyes shimmering with restrained tears.

"You coward. You absolute coward. You could’ve said something. I might have helped you. I would have helped you. You didn’t have to sell us out to Eel Schmuck for whatever crumbs he tossed you!"

Kaiju’s mouth moved, stammering half a defense, but she didn’t give him a chance to finish.

“You didn’t just betray me. You betrayed humanity.”

Then, softer—just a whisper, “I thought you were my friend.”

She turned her back to him.

“I hope whatever you sold your soul for was worth it.”

Kaiju looked like he wanted to melt into the floor.

Conor took it all in—silent, calculating, tight-lipped. His fingers drummed once against his rifle.

“Alright,” he said slowly.

 “Let’s say I believe you. Let’s say Schmuck sent you. What now?”

Shachiku tilted his head and gave the faintest smile.

 “Now? We get the cure. Start Red Code. Get out. And you don’t have to die in this hellhole like everyone else.”

The corridor buzzed in silence.

Then, somewhere down the hall, another crystal growth burst through the wall with a crack like bones snapping. Screams echoed far away.

Conor’s expression hardened. 

“Alright, Salaryman. Eather way we don't have much time. Let’s see if you’re worth your paycheck. We can radio in and talk with Schmuck when we get out of here and make things straight then. But now? Now we get the hell out of here.”