Episode 4 『 The Liberation Army 』
46. Bismarck
You who press forward against the crashing waves
I shall become the flag that flies upon your mast.
A single vehicle pushed through the heavily piled snow. The large military truck, icicles clinging to its front fenders, groaned with a shuddering engine as it hauled its heavy wheels forward. Undeterred by the snowbound road ahead, it crushed through the frozen drifts and pressed on. After a long drive, it arrived at an old detention facility blocked by a massive iron gate. When the vehicle stopped, a guard stepped out of the sentry post, shivering against the cold. He looked the vehicle over and, finding nothing amiss, nodded and returned inside. Soon, with a loud clanging of metal, the great iron gate began to slowly move. Once fully open, the shuddering vehicle labored its wheels once more and drove inside.
A corrections officer opened a black clipboard to review the transfer list for the day. Only one name was written on the document: Inmate 5632 Bismarck. He closed the clipboard, handed it to a guard waiting outside the office, and walked through the facility with two officers following behind. Each time they passed a cell block, the eyes of prisoners stared out from behind ice-cold iron bars. They soon stopped, having reached their destination. There, a large man sat with his back to the entrance — as if he had known all along they were coming. The cell door swung open.
"Inmate 5632. Transfer."
The man slowly opened his eyes, as though his time had finally come.
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"Our next story: Bismarck, the ringleader of the Liberation Army, and his associates have been apprehended. They were arrested by a police tactical unit deployed on-site as they attempted to flee after destroying the Northern Branch of the National Geological Survey Bureau. They face charges including bombing and arson of key government facilities. They are currently being held at a nearby correctional facility."
(Channel change)
"Calling them terrorists is far too grand a title. For there to be terrorism, there must be an ideology or a movement behind it. These are nothing more than petty criminals throwing a tantrum over government policy."
(Channel change)
"A huge bus came charging at us and slammed straight into the station gate. There was this enormous bang — I thought an explosion had gone off. I was terrified."
(Channel change)
"Didn't officials say these people spread a virus through the water supply during the Murmansk incident? They're absolute scum. It's such a relief they've finally been caught."
"Nothing but talk of terrorists."
Banner, the owner of The Old Alley, muttered idly. In the quiet of three in the afternoon with few customers, a dull silence hung in the air.
"Banner, this sandwich is incredible. What's in it? Chicken?"
O'Brien asked between chews from his single seat, finishing a late lunch.
"Turkey."
"Since kebabs, I've never had turkey work so well in anything. Where does a touch like this even come from?"
Banner didn't answer, just let out a quiet smirk. O'Brien picked up his sandwich again to take a bite when his Satellite blinked. It was April.
"Obie. New mission."
"Bad timing. I'm falling in love with this sandwich."
"Get to the center."
April ended the transmission without ceremony. O'Brien glanced at Banner with a mildly embarrassed look, stuffed the rest of the sandwich into his mouth, and got up from his seat.
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Patrol cars, escort vehicles, and helicopters moved at intervals through a corridor of towering buildings. The large vehicle in the center was encircled layer upon layer by the others — almost certainly the prisoner transport. The road they traveled had been cleared of civilian traffic in advance. People stared at the procession as though it were a parade.
"Inspector Nolan, Bake Police Department."
A man beside her suddenly extended his hand to April. Instead of shaking it, she gave a brief nod.
"I've heard you were remarkable in Murmansk. It's an honor to meet you in person."
April allowed a faint smile — Nolan's warmth was not unwelcome.
"Is that who you were asking about?"
"Oh, no, of course — yes. Word has already spread through our department. That the Hunters protect people not only from the Mad, but from corrupt politicians as well. Your standing has risen considerably from what it used to be."
"Thank you. But I was asking about the person being transported."
"Oh? Oh — right, yes."
Nolan smiled sheepishly.
"Name's Bismarck. Leader of the Liberation Army. They only go after key government buildings — bombings, the lot of it. Anti-government to the core, and once they've got a target, they don't stop for anything. Real nasty piece of work. Word is they were behind the Murmansk incident too."
April watched the escort vehicle trailing behind them through the side mirror.
"Seems like a lot of fuss for just one man."
"He's the head of a terrorist organization. His people are almost certainly waiting for any opening to pull off a rescue. Then again, short of bringing an army, breaking him out through security like this wouldn't be easy."
April nodded in understanding.
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At the rear of the convoy, O'Brien and Supremer rode alongside the police tactical unit.
"With all this hardware around, do we even need to be here?"
Supremer glanced sideways at the officers beside him.
"There are cases where the Mad appear mid-operation," said the veteran-looking officer next to him, offering Supremer a cigarette.
"We don't have much experience facing the Mad directly. The Hunters' support is absolutely essential."
"Hey, Chrome dome. How'd we fight those things when we did?"
Supremer jabbed O'Brien, who was absorbed in his phone.
"Beat the hell out of them."
"There you have it. Nothing to be afraid of. Just unleash hell on the Mad, and you'll find them in tatters — and the Hunters bleeding on the ground beside them. If you're lucky, you walk away. Come to think of it, you are pretty lucky. Chrome dome."
"Uh, yes sir~"
The officer gave a wry smile at Supremer's teasing tone.
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The convoy cleared the Pladson district and reached the Yurakh River. As they entered the Yurakh Central Bridge — a span stretching five hundred meters — the column narrowed. The December wind blew hard, but the sky was cloudless and clear. The afternoon sun at two o'clock lit the river's surface with a brilliant gleam. The skyscrapers rising on the far bank were so tall they seemed to pierce the sky — a skyline that could only be called a mountain range built by human hands out of concrete.
April was carefully scanning the buildings along the river when she noticed something and narrowed her eyes. She blinked and looked again, wondering if she had imagined it — but it did not disappear. It was a high-rise under construction at the far end of the bridge, its bare skeleton fully exposed. Something was clinging to the side of the building near its middle, shifting and moving. April quickly zoomed in through her Satellite. On the screen, a figure appeared — pressed against the wall like Spider-Man, staring at the convoy below with a grin. Then the figure kicked off the wall and launched itself toward the river. It fell for a long moment before a paraglider spread open, and the figure drifted away and vanished.
"Building under construction ahead. Requesting confirmation."
A male sergeant's radio crackled. The convoy was nearly at the end of the bridge. From around the middle of the building April had been watching, a cloud of thick dust burst outward — and then, cracks began to spread from the building's center as it slowly began to sink inward.
"The building's coming down. Watch out!"
Someone shouted urgently over the radio. The upper half of the building, split in two, toppled toward the convoy's path, dragging its massive concrete body down. Vehicles at the rear of the column braked hard. Those at the front, already too far along to stop, floored the accelerator and raced to clear the zone of impact.
[RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE]
[CRASH]
With a sound like a massive explosion, the building hit the ground. Dust storms billowed in every direction, blanketing the world in grey so thick nothing could be seen. The entire world seemed to turn the color of ash. The scene went completely dark, as though swallowed by a black curtain.
April dangled from an overturned vehicle, bleeding. She barely managed to collect herself — her mind was reeling, but a fierce will to survive drove her to unbuckle her belt and crawl out of the wreckage. In every direction, thick dust blocked all sight.
She had no idea where she was. She activated her Satellite and checked her position. A satellite image of the collapse site appeared, and she staggered toward the direction it indicated, pushing her way out of the dust cloud.
After walking for a while, the dust thinned. She turned back to survey the scene behind her. The rubble of the building loomed like a mountain against the sky. Nearly all of the lead vehicles that had been with her appeared to have been buried beneath the structure — not a single intact vehicle was visible. She spat out the dust caught in her throat, coughing without stop.
Then, from somewhere in the distance, came the metallic crash of a vehicle door being hurled to the ground. She turned toward the sound. A dark shadow emerged from the dust.
"Don't move!"
April raised her gun at the man. The towering figure who appeared before her was dressed in a prison uniform, blood running down his face. She knew instinctively: this was Bismarck — the high-security prisoner she had been escorting.
Bismarck stopped at her words. He looked at her steadily.
"A Hunter?"
His voice was deep and resonant. Despite her complete lack of cover, April sensed something radiating off the man — a presence she could not put into words. She could not bring herself to lower her guard. Bismarck ran both hands slowly through his hair, then tilted his head back and breathed in the open air.
"Yes. Freedom is a good."
April found it difficult to keep the gun trained on him, and requested backup through her Satellite. Even as she did, Bismarck remained unmoved — almost unhurried.
Soon, two helicopters appeared in the sky, their rotors deafening as they descended. The door of one slid open and officers took aim at Bismarck. A voice came through a loudspeaker, ordering him to surrender. Bismarck smiled and raised both arms toward the sky.
Then the other helicopter pivoted its body and fired a missile at the first.
[BANG]
With the explosion, the helicopter that had been covering Bismarck plummeted. April stared, bewildered, unable to make sense of what had just happened. The helicopter that had fired lowered a rope ladder down over Bismarck's head. He reached up with both hands, grabbed the ladder, and climbed on. April wanted to stop him but didn't know how. Bismarck, now on the ladder, looked back at her one last time. He knew: Hunters are bound by a code that forbids shooting an unarmed person. He smiled and called down to her.
"Until next time, Hunter."
The helicopter carried Bismarck away, drifting calmly from the scene.