The Metropolis

Chapter 12: The Metropolis

"Relax. At most, people will just assume I'm a heavily augmented cyborg." TPAL seemed far more optimistic than Kestrel.

"And besides, in the Metropolis, people come and go by the thousands every day. No one cares about us."

"As for the traces left by the space station's descent, the impact of our landing, and the ruthless sweep of the mercenaries afterward—all of that has already erased our presence."

"Let's hope so." In an unfamiliar world with no allies, there was no choice but to take things one step at a time.

Whether it was the mercenaries or the company itself, everything made Kestrel feel like death was lurking just behind him, waiting for the right moment to strike.

"Surely there are still normal people in this world, right? The entire planet can't be insane… I can't be the only sane one left." He silently mused to himself.

PAUL's voice shattered his thoughts.

"Look, there it is—the Metropolis."

Kestrel followed the trail of smoke from PAUL's e-cigarette, gazing into the gray horizon. In the distance, a burst of dazzling color pierced through the suffocating gloom.

"The Metropolis?" Kestrel instinctively sat up. Sensing his movement, the mechanical stretcher beneath him smoothly adjusted, bringing him closer to the window for a better view.

As their ship hurtled forward, a breathtaking vision of neon brilliance unfolded before his eyes—a city of towering skyscrapers, pulsating with a riot of color. Beneath the glowing skyline, lively districts teemed with flashing lights, and airships flitted between enormous holographic billboards, weaving through cascading rain and shimmering advertisements. The streets below were a river of headlights and movement.

Every ad seemed to shift and breathe with lifelike intensity, unrestricted by any notion of censorship. Weapons, sex, and every form of excess imaginable flashed in grand display, unfiltered and unapologetic. Some were comprehensible to Kestrel, yet their implications eluded him entirely.

"Gluttonous Reinforced Stomach—devour anything and everything! Lava? Nuclear waste? Taste it with your own tongue!"

"Red Clay Furnace 8 Youth ProMiniMax—now in stock! Powerful, affordable, and 3D-printed with safe polymer materials. Non-toxic upon ingestion. The only choice for children's weaponry!"

The pedestrians were as eccentric as their surroundings—clad in an array of bizarre attire, bodies adorned with tangled data cables and gleaming cybernetic enhancements. Some individuals appeared even more mechanized than TPAL.

The misty rainfall draped everything in a surreal haze, lending the metropolis an ethereal, dreamlike quality. Watching it all unfold, Kestrel felt an overwhelming sense of dissonance—his past and present juxtaposed so starkly that they seemed to belong to two entirely separate worlds.

By the time their vessel touched down, both Kestrel and PAUL were fully healed, PAUL's severed arm replaced with a sleek, medical-grade cybernetic limb.

The moment the hovercar doors opened, the cacophony of the city crashed over them like a tidal wave. Kestrel found himself suddenly overwhelmed, his hands uncertain of where to rest. Everything felt impossibly foreign.

"Ha! Bro! Let's go raise some hell!" PAUL, grinning from ear to ear, sauntered up to a nearby vehicle. Without hesitation, he raised his augmented arm and slammed his fist through the glass.

Effortlessly, he extracted a data cable from his wrist and jammed it into the dashboard. A metallic click—then the engine roared to life.

A punch, a plug, a pull—the entire act was executed with seamless precision, leaving no doubt that he had done this countless times before.

"…Uh, this isn't your car, is it?"

"What's mine, what's his—it's all the same! If it's in my hands, it's mine! Now get in!"

As Kestrel and TPAL climbed into the vehicle, PAUL slammed his foot on the accelerator, launching them forward.

He drove with complete disregard for traffic laws, veering into the oncoming lanes, laughing wildly as he engaged the convertible mode. Wind howled through the cabin, rain slashing against Kestrel's face like needles.

And then—PAUL stood up.

Balancing on the seat, he pressed one foot against the wheel, arms outstretched to the city skyline.

"FREEDOM CITY! WOOO! COME ON! KILL ME IF YOU CAN! I MADE IT BACK ALIVE! HAHAHAHA!!"

The city's relentless onslaught of neon and noise swallowed his voice, while the distant echo of gunfire crackled like an ominous symphony.

"Jesus, get down! Have you lost your damn mind, or are you high?!" Kestrel yanked him back into the seat with a solid punch.

PAUL merely cackled. "Of course I'm high! What did you think I was smoking?"

Just then, Kestrel caught movement in his peripheral vision. A figure stood atop a building, partially obscured by a floating billboard.

"There's someone up there!"

"Eh, just another jumper."

Even as PAUL spoke, the figure leapt.

He took the plunge with no hesitation, and for a moment, he twisted midair, his body straining before executing a slow, awkward flip. Mid-descent, he lifted a hand and extended his middle finger toward them.

"Boom."

His body slammed into the pavement ahead, skull bursting like an overripe melon—splitting open in a grotesque explosion of red and white.

PAUL whistled. "Damn! Nice flip, bro!" Without a second thought, he floored the gas pedal, plowing the vehicle straight over the corpse. The tires carved deep crimson streaks into the rain-slick asphalt.

Kestrel's mind reeled. "What the hell is wrong with this city?"

Before he could fully process what had just transpired, the car screeched to a halt before a colossal tower, its peak crowned with flashing lights and the muffled moans of pre-recorded ecstasy. Plumes of white smoke burst skyward in rhythmic synchronization.

PAUL hooked an arm around Kestrel's shoulders, dragging him inside. The moment they crossed the threshold, the ambient chaos of the city faded—replaced by an overwhelming tide of lewd whispers and sultry melodies.

Kestrel barely had time to take in his surroundings before PAUL's voice rang out, booming with unrestrained excitement.

"WHERE THE WHORES AT?! I'M GETTING LAID TONIGHT!!"

From within a towering, transparent champagne glass, a catgirl—clad in a miniskirt and glowing stockings—emerged, dripping with fragrant liquor.

Graceful and fluid, she flicked her tail, stepping forward in stilettos as she approached them with a playful smile. Her voice was thick with honeyed seduction.

"You called?~"

PAUL grinned. "Go on, show him some love! This one's my brother—saved my damn life!"

She leaned into Kestrel, the scent of artificial sweetness clinging to her skin. Moving in perfect rhythm, she danced around him, her body brushing against his as she whispered into his ear, each breath a tantalizing tease.

Then, with a mischievous bite to her lower lip, she arched her back, spreading her legs apart.

A burst of luminous pink light shot forth, illuminating Kestrel's wide-eyed expression, his pupils quivering in sheer disbelief.

"…It… it glows?"

PAUL, still grinning, threw an arm around his shoulder and shouted over the noise.

"WELCOME TO FREEDOM CITY, BROTHER!!"