MMPS Ch. 6

Chapter 6: Choose Your Alliance

The mangled body of the horned aberration was dragged out by the police, its lifeless form neatly lined along the sealed-off street. Medical personnel and patients, shivering with fear, were ushered away to ambulances stationed outside the hospital.

Two armed paramilitary officers stood guard at a consultation room, their imposing presence barring unauthorized entry. Inside, personnel subjected to initial questioning sat in stiff silence.

Behind the desk sat a masked female police officer, her sharp gaze piercing through the tension like an icy blade. She hadn’t uttered a word, yet her commanding presence froze the very air in the room. Beside her stood another officer, a striking figure nearly six feet tall with golden curls, clutching an assault rifle, her stance radiating vigilance as she shielded her superior.

Yu An sat hunched over, his gaze fixed on the cold steel of the handcuffs clasped around his wrists. The bite of the metal was all too familiar, dredging up memories he had buried deep within.

He remembered being fourteen when he had sent his father to the ICU with his own hands. Back then, the method was crude—sealing the windows and doors while the man slept and twisting open the gas valve. But children are not skilled at hiding incriminating evidence; adhesive traces on the window seams gave him away, and the police quickly uncovered the truth. His father emerged from the ordeal unharmed.

Two incidents stood out in his turbulent history with his father—one labeled “excessive self-defense,” the other “intentional assault causing grievous injury.” Each time, the repercussions had been brutal, stripping him of both freedom and dignity. Yet Yu An never relented.

His father eventually met his end in a drunken crash off a cliff—a death that had nothing to do with Yu An, at least according to the evidence.

The day after his father’s demise, Yu An bought a birthday cake. He sat across from his mother at the dining table, her face pale with fear, trembling in her seat.

“Eat, Mom. Today is our day to celebrate.” he had said, his tone eerily calm.

A stern voice yanked him from the recesses of his mind. The woman was questioning Zhao Ran about the events at the hospital.

Yu An’s eyes flicked toward Zhao Ran, who had been watching him intently, as if gauging his emotional state. Zhao Ran hadn’t answered a single one of her questions yet. Instead, he made a bold demand.

“Officer Ye, remove the handcuffs from my intern.” Zhao Ran said flatly.

Her voice was cold as frost: “The cuffs come off once he’s cleared of suspicion. Zhao Ran, cooperate and answer my questions. Surveillance shows you arrived at the hospital before the aberration attack. Why were you here?”

The Perceptive Eagle Bureau was a special task force established to handle aberration cases with efficiency and precision. Their approach to interrogations rarely followed protocol; expedience was their priority.

Zhao Ran slouched onto the examination bed, finding a comfortable position. He spread his arms with an air of nonchalance: “I got injured and came here for treatment. While I was getting patched up, the aberration attacked. I went to the surveillance room and used the hospital’s PA system to tell everyone to lock themselves in the nearest room, seal the windows, and stay silent behind cover.”

“And the surveillance room staff?” Officer Ye pressed. “All unconscious from heavy blows—was that your doing?”

“Of course. Those fools were panicking and trying to run. The staff saw the horned aberration charge into the first-floor lobby and started shouting about finding safety. Honestly, was there a safer place than by my side?” Zhao Ran chuckled.

“Did you notice anything unusual before you arrived?”

“Not much. There was a fat guy in the consultation room when I got there. Left a strong impression.” Zhao Ran said, brushing dried blood from his clothing.

Officer Ye’s sharp instincts caught the thread: “A fat man?”

“Yeah, must’ve been 400 or 500 pounds.” Zhao Ran said nonchalantly.

“An obese patient.” Officer Ye’s eyes changed slightly, looking at the nurse who was standing at the side and trembling slightly: “Is there a patient like that here?”

The nurse standing nearby, pale and fidgeting, answered hesitantly: “Yes. He was admitted two nights ago for acute gastroenteritis. He couldn’t move well, so we kept him under observation. Nurse Bao was assigned to care for him.”

Perceptive Eagle Bureau agents had already accounted for casualties: three doctors injured, one security guard dead, one nurse dead, another security guard and nurse missing.

The missing nurse’s severed finger was found in the station—a grotesque clue, confirmed through DNA to belong to Nurse Bao Si.

Officer Ye’s gaze bore into Yu An: “You mentioned a nurse was attacked when you called in. Explain what happened.”

Yu An frowned slightly.

Fragments of a news article flashed in his mind: Hongli News—Missing Obese Patients—Aberrants Suspected

“Nurse Bao ran.” Yu An muttered, his voice detached as he rubbed at the bloodstains on his shoes. “Check the morgue—specifically the central stretcher. It’s gone. Or, at least, it should be.”

Zhao Ran turned to him, surprised.

Officer Ye’s sharp eyes narrowed. She barked orders through her earpiece. The response came swiftly: the stretcher and its massive occupant had indeed disappeared, with wheel tracks leading to the underground garage exit.

It all fell into place. The so-called “corpse” had been alive all along—deeply sedated, disguised, and hidden in the morgue. Nurse Bao had likely been complicit, planning the extraction with help.

In hindsight, how could the body of such a colossal “corpse” in the mortuary not have an unmistakable odor? It was no corpse at all. It had to be alive. That was the very patient Zhao Ran had mentioned, the one with severe obesity, deeply sedated and disguised as a body, hidden away in the mortuary to be moved later. And the one responsible for this gruesome charade? The nurse, Bao Si, who had gone missing.

It would have been impossible for the nurse to push such a patient down the sloping corridor alone. No, she must have taken the elevator down to the basement level, then remained hidden in the mortuary. At the designated hour, someone had opened the lock on the underground passage, taking the stretcher and the patient to their destination.

When Yu An took the elevator, he found it had stopped at the basement level. This small detail confirmed the grim truth—the moment he awoke in the mortuary drawer, another living person was still there.

The nurse had likely been hiding in one of those drawers, motionless, waiting. After Yu An had left, she crept out, moving the stretcher and preparing to transport the patient.

As Yu An replayed the events in his mind, he remembered stumbling through the dark hallway, certain he’d heard the creak of rusty hinges, the faintest sound of something shifting within the drawers. It wasn’t the wind. Someone had been moving inside.

When Zhao Ran heard the theory that there had been another person hiding in the mortuary, his expression darkened for a fleeting moment before he quickly regained his composure.

But that brief shift in his gaze didn’t escape Yu An’s notice.

Zhao Ran leaned in, his breath warm against Yu An’s ear as he whispered, low and dangerous: “A massive corpse? You didn’t make that up, did you?”

“I’m not lying. When I woke up, it was right there, in the center of the mortuary.” Yu An stared into his eyes, the plum-colored pupils giving him a sense of dangerous illusion.

Officer Ye abruptly stood, her leather jacket swishing sharply, and fixed Zhao Ran with an icy stare. “The nurse took the stretcher using the elevator. You didn’t notice anything strange on the surveillance?”

Zhao Ran simply shook his head: “I swear, the basement cameras were malfunctioning. Who would lie in front of you, Officer Ye?”

Yu An had already verified this—the nurse station’s email had mentioned the camera failure. Security had taken all day to respond, confirming the suspicion: Bao Si had help, and her accomplice was the guard who had vanished with her.

Together, they had planned to smuggle the patient out of the hospital. But they hadn’t counted on the second aberration, the monstrous creature that had slipped inside. In the chaos, the nurse had been bitten—perhaps losing a finger, or worse. The truth of it would only be revealed through the gut of the creature itself.

“This was a premeditated operation.” Officer Ye concluded, her voice taut with certainty. “The nurse was the one smuggling the patient, while the guard waited outside the underground passage. They timed it just right to avoid us.” Officer Ye pondered for a moment, then ordered to check vehicles near Guxian Hospital after midnight, block and inspect the entrances and exits of the suburbs of Hongli City, and notify the second team to spare no effort in rescuing the hostages.

She paused, her eyes narrowing as she turned to Yu An. “Hand over the Aberration Cores you’ve taken and cooperate with the investigation.”

Yu An froze. His gaze flickered to Zhao Ran, whose response was a careless shrug, tinged with amusement: “It’s the rules. Just hand them over.”

A realization struck Yu An like a blow. He had understood why Zhao Ran had been irritable earlier, when the sirens had blared. It wasn’t just the chaos—it was the rule. Underground Metro, like other underground networks, had an unwritten law: you couldn’t request their help and then go to another hunting company or the Perceptive Eagle Bureau. If you broke that rule, you were removed from the protection list without refund.

Yu An understood now. They didn’t want to bleed for the cores only to see them snatched away by rivals or the authorities. The cores in his analyzer were worth at least thirty or forty thousand yuan. Losing them felt like a raw wound, especially after the effort he had expended to collect them.

When the officers opened his analyzer, Yu An’s heart sank. There were only two blue cores left. The second-level purple core, the most valuable, was gone.

He didn’t speak. Instead, he glanced at Zhao Ran, who was absentmindedly adjusting his gloves, his eyes cold and distant.

The officers took the remaining cores, and Officer Ye rose to leave. “Take him to the Perceptive Eagle Bureau for questioning.”

“Yes, madam!” Officer Timon responded, her posture straightening in an instant, as if a switch had been flipped.

Yu An, the only witness to the patient’s disappearance and the only one who had faced the horned aberration, was now a prime suspect. To the police, he was an accomplice, no better than the kidnappers.

“I’ve told you everything I know.” Yu An said quietly, his voice tinged with resignation. “Even if I go with you, it won’t change anything.”

He didn’t want to go to the Eagle Bureau. He felt an instinctual fear of Officer Ye, a chilling sense that if she had handled his father’s drunk-driving case, Yu An would have been caught in her web. There was no escaping her.

He couldn’t go back with them.

But it seemed impossible to escape the iron grip of the officers watching him: a female officer armed with an assault rifle, two armed guards, and the brass mechanical hawks perched ominously on the desk, their cold, metallic beaks occasionally glinting in the light.

Under such intensive guards, it is impossible to escape on his own. 

Yu An felt the cold sweat on his palms, but then—there was warmth.

Zhao Ran clenched his fist, his fingertips tucked into his palm, gently pressing it against Yu An’s knuckles. The gesture was oddly comforting, like a leopard retracting its claws. It was as if he was reluctant to touch others with his hands.

Officer Ye exited the room, the door sealing behind her, and that was when Zhao Ran moved. He yanked Yu An toward him and backed away: “Interrogation? Didn’t we just go through that?”

In a blur, they shattered the window, sending glass spraying outward like a storm of ice. Zhao Ran’s kick obliterated the rusted bars of the burglar window, and in one fluid motion, they leaped into the night.

“Stop! Or we’ll shoot!” Officer Timon hesitated, mindful of the nurses still present. Instead of firing, she blew her whistle, the sharp, piercing sound echoing through the hall. The mechanical eagle came to life, their red eyes flashing as they screeched and took flight, chasing after them.

She whirled to the two armed officers. “What are you doing? Why didn’t you stop them?”

The two guards exchanged confused glances. “We tried, but the moment Zhao Ran moved, it felt like someone had gripped our necks and arms. We couldn’t move.”

“Ridiculous.” Officer Timon hissed, her accent apparent.“He has two hands. How could he have held both of you at once?”

*

The glass shattered with a deafening crack, and the pieces tumbled to the floor with a cold, hollow sound. Beneath the pale moonlight, the figures of Zhao Ran and Yu An were little more than fleeting shadows, silhouettes cutting through the night. Zhao Ran’s hair whipped in the wind, casting an eerie, ethereal glow to his form.

He half-carried Yu An as they ran, leaping effortlessly over walls and rooftops. Nothing could slow him down, as though the very city were part of his path.

The wind cut across Yu An’s face, and he called out, breathless. “You took the missing core, didn’t you?”

Zhao Ran flipped open his wrist, revealing the second-level purple core, still warm in his hand. He tucked it into Yu An’s analyzer. “If you handed it over, you’d never get it back. You really are too honest.”

“You’re running like this? Aren’t you afraid of being wanted?” Yu An’s wrists were still bound by handcuffs, leaving him with no choice but to clutch Zhao Ran’s shirt, holding on tightly to prevent himself from slipping.

“I won’t be wanted.” Zhao Ran replied, his face devoid of concern, as if it were the most natural thing. “You should be worried about yourself. Maybe tomorrow, your picture will be plastered all over the papers. Hahaha.”

Yu An remained silent, a storm brewing in his mind.

The interview had been a set-up—designed to force him away from the prying eyes of the Perceptive Eagle Bureau. If they were to hunt him down, finding a job would be the least of his concerns. His life would become a constant struggle.

But in those fleeting moments with Zhao Ran, Yu An had begun to piece together the relationship between the Underground Metro and the Perceptive Eagle Bureau. They weren’t allies, nor were they enemies. When the Eagle Bureau officer had rushed upstairs, she had cuffed him, but not Zhao Ran—showing that the staff of the Underground Metro were outside the Eagle Bureau’s jurisdiction.

It seemed joining the Underground Metro wasn’t just a choice—it had been the only option.

A sharp, blood-curdling cry sliced through the air above them. Yu An’s gaze shot upwards just in time to see two golden mechanical eagles tearing through the night sky, their wings cutting through the air as they swooped down toward them.

Zhao Ran, however, didn’t falter. His eyes locked on the shadow of the mechanical eagles, anticipating their every move. He darted, fluid and swift, weaving between alleys, dodging with the ease of someone who had become one with the shadows.

One strike from those brass claws, one slash from their deadly beaks, and it would be more than just painful—it would be devastating. A shallow wound could tear through skin and muscle, while a deeper strike could sever tendons and shatter bones.

It didn’t matter how fast a human ran—the mechanical eagles flew faster, their relentless pursuit carrying them through the dense labyrinth of crumbling buildings and gnarly tree branches. Their electronic red eyes flared as they locked onto their prey, the mechanical birds showing no mercy.

“The mechanical eagles are the standard equipment of the Perceptive Eagle Bureau.” Zhao Ran spoke, his tone a quiet murmur. “Every officer has one, just like their gun. They’re used to track and neutralize targets. Powered by Aberrant Cores, they’re deadly, practical weapons.”

Low-level mutated cores weren’t typically of any use to humans, so they were repurposed into mechanical and weapon systems, functioning as batteries that far outstripped the efficiency of any fuel. Durable, and far more eco-friendly.

Zhao Ran’s pace picked up, though there was no sign of him growing winded. Still, his wounds were beginning to bleed again, fresh blood seeping through the makeshift bandages.

“If those things catch us, what happens?” Yu An asked, his voice steady but filled with a hint of dread.

“They’ll make sure we can’t fight back.” Zhao Ran replied, his voice tinged with dark humor. “Maybe they’ll rip our limbs off? Or stab us through the stomach? Anything that stops us from resisting.”

Zhao Ran’s playful tone was a thin veil over the cold truth, his eyes glinting with morbid curiosity. He enjoyed testing Yu An, seeing the cracks in his calm facade, savoring the unease that flickered across his expression.

Yu An kept his gaze fixed on the oncoming mechanical eagle, his mind calculating. His fingers hovered over the compartment of the storage core analyzer: “So, you don’t have a way out, do you?”

Before the contract was signed, he couldn’t afford to fall into the clutches of the Eagle Bureau… escaping from two mechanical eagles would require more than mere luck—he would need to move as swiftly as they did.

But he was willing to try.

Without a word, Yu An opened the analyzer, removed the second-level purple core, and pressed it into his left eye socket.

The instant the core, Satan’s Guidance, embedded itself in his optic nerve, a wave of excruciating heat surged through him, followed by a dizzying sense of vertigo. He gritted his teeth, fighting to stay upright, the pain slicing through his skull like fire.

“Wait, wait, I’ve got this under control.” Zhao Ran cautioned, his voice softer now, a genuine note of concern threading through his words. “Don’t be reckless. In a state like this, you could do anything… We don’t know what you’re capable of when you’re cornered.”

Yu An didn’t answer.

The core settled, and the fiery pain subsided, though it still lingered, dull but constant. However, this time, Yu An didn’t develop any goat-horn features. It seemed that this was the difference between Functional Cores and Aberrant Cores.

An Aberrant Core would cause the human host to undergo a corresponding monster transformation, granting them abilities that matched the traits of the creature. In contrast, a functional core would bestow a special ability upon the host.

The analyzer beeped, confirming the link had been successfully established. The screen showed a decrease in the core’s usage, from six to five.

The purple light in his eye flickered as Yu An looked up at the mechanical eagle. He pinched his fingers together, pressing his thumb and index finger to his lips before blowing a sharp, commanding whistle.

The mechanical eagle, as if responding to a signal it couldn’t ignore, veered its course toward him, its red eyes locking onto his. The faint glow from the purple core in Yu An’s eye shimmered like an ethereal path, guiding him. The goat skull design on the surface of the core twisted into a grin, sharp, demonic teeth flashing.

The core’s ability—Satan’s Guidance—was simple yet powerful: it disoriented its target, leading them astray.

The mechanical eagle faltered, its once-sleek flight becoming erratic. It clipped tree branches, its brass feathers scraping against the bark, exposing the metallic skeleton within. Despite the damage, it didn’t stop, driven as if by some unseen force. It followed Yu An into the labyrinth of alleyways, its mechanical wings flapping with desperate urgency.

Zhao Ran, watching the unfolding chaos, raised an eyebrow. So, he’s bold enough to attack a mechanical eagle, huh? He’s either brave or completely insane.

But even as he thought it, Zhao Ran couldn’t suppress his admiration. He had never seen anyone dismantle an Aberrant Core so easily. This wasn’t just powerful—this was a new level of control, far more potent than any mutant body could ever be.

“Not bad.” Zhao Ran said under his breath. “Now lead it somewhere narrow, and let it crash. That way, the Eagle Bureau won’t be able to pin this on us.”

Yu An didn’t want to follow his commands.

“Crash? That’s a waste.” Yu An murmured, his focus still fixed on the eagle, his eyes cold and calculating. “I’m going for the core.”

Before Zhao Ran could understand what he meant, he felt the weight in his arms vanish. It was as if a cat had suddenly leapt from his grasp.

Yu An launched himself toward the mechanical eagle, drawing the steel knife Zhao Ran had just returned to him moments earlier. As the eagle veered low, struggling to stay aloft, Yu An seized his opportunity. With a precision that was almost unnatural, he wrapped his legs around the eagle’s body, gripping the knife in both hands. One clean slice severed the bird’s eye cameras, another pierced its signal transmitter, and with a third brutal stab, he tore into the drive system, ripping out the Aberrant Core.

As the mechanical eagle’s remains plummeted to the ground, the analyzer beeped once more.

Name: Aberrant Core – Eagle Wing
Source: Eagle Aberrant
Type: Common Variant
Grade: Tier 3 Blue (Prussian Blue)
Primary Ability: Rapid Flight
Usage Limit: 24 hours Cumulative
Description: A great businessman once said, “Feathers are meant for flying—not for making coats.” Resonance Requirement: Unknown

Tier 3 Blue. Yu An glanced at Zhao Ran, his eyes gleaming with a knowing look that screamed: Impressive, isn’t it?

Zhao Ran could only exhale, his hand rubbing his forehead. In just over two hours of dealing with Yu An, his low blood pressure had been effectively cured.