Chapter 12: The Slum’s Silence

Inside the dilapidated room in the Z-Highline, the atmosphere was thick with a mixture of fear and desperate hope.

David Simons and the three former Noxon scientists were deep in discussion, their voices low and urgent. The accusations David leveled against Lonah Harlan – or rather, the entity now inhabiting her – were shocking, yet resonated with a chilling familiarity for these disgraced men.

One of them, a wiry man named Elias, shot to his feet so abruptly his rickety chair clattered to the floor. "I knew it!" he hissed, his eyes blazing. "Noxon was always rotten to the core! Always something vile festering in the background. How could anyone believe an implant designed for mere 'human experience enhancement' would be so benign? That was naive, stupid!"

His associates quickly calmed him, urging him to lower his voice, their own faces pale. They pressed David for more details. He took a deep breath, the squalor of the room pressing in on him.

He recounted his encounter with "Lonah," describing her uncanny, inhuman demeanor, the almost unrecognizable coldness that had replaced the CEO he knew.

He argued passionately that Noxon must have an advanced, secret version of Oracle, far more potent than the Version 5 they had witnessed in development, and that this more dangerous version had been used on Lonah.

The scientists were stunned into silence. This was explosive, world-shattering news if it ever got out. "Who else have you told?" one of them, a portly man named Ben, asked, his voice trembling.

"Noxon will hunt down anyone who knows. They'll stop at nothing to silence the source."

David assured them he hadn't contacted anyone else yet. He had considered reaching out to a trusted board member or one of his senior colleagues, but a gnawing paranoia had stopped him. The scientists agreed he'd done the right thing by coming to them first. He'd even brought some files from his Noxon office – nothing overly sensitive, as he hadn't dared risk taking classified material, but they were something, a potential starting point.

As he fished out his phone to show them some notes, the three men reacted as if they'd seen a ghost.

Elias stuttered, "You… you had your phone on you? This whole time?"

David was confused by their alarmed expressions. "Yes, why? It's not tracked. I confirmed it myself. I'm the Chief Technology Officer of Noxon, remember?"

Ben shook his head grimly. "You're wrong, David. Noxon doesn't trust any of its employees, not truly. They're not sincere. They have tabs on everyone. Turn it off! Now!"

Hopefully, Ben thought, it was still okay. But it wasn't Noxon they should have been worried about at that precise moment. It was L.

Just as David reached for his phone, a sharp knock echoed at the flimsy door. A woman's voice, strained and fearful, called out. It was Martha, Elias's wife. "Elias? Someone's here… they say they're the landlord."

Elias exchanged a worried glance with the others. "I'll see what it is," he said, moving towards the door. The moment he opened it, he saw a blur, a flash of movement. He registered nothing more before an incapacitating pain exploded behind his eyes, and he crumpled, unconscious.

Before the remaining men in the room could react, a figure stepped through the doorway: a woman in a black trench coat, a silenced pistol held steadily in her hand. It was L. She didn't immediately focus on them, her gaze sweeping the small, squalid room with an unnerving calmness, as if they weren't even there.

She wasn't wearing sunglasses now, and they could see her eyes – Lonah's eyes – but they were cold, empty, scanning methodically for any hidden danger, any other person.

Finally, L's gaze landed on David and the two conscious scientists. A slight, chilling smile touched her lips. She effortlessly dragged the unconscious Elias back into the room and kicked the door shut, locking it.

Ben, his voice hoarse with terror, managed to ask, "What have you done to Martha? The children?"

L simply opened her hands wide, palms up, a gesture of mock innocence.

She spoke slowly, her voice devoid of inflection, ensuring they could hear every word. "The children and the woman are tied up. They are… okay. For now." Her smile widened, becoming predatory.

"Whether they live to see another day, however, is entirely in your hands. Your utmost cooperation is required. Any act of defiance, any attempt to resist, and I will ensure the investigators wonder if a wild animal visited this place instead of a human."

She delivered this horrific threat with a tone that was almost… caring, a grotesque parody of reassurance. But the message, conveyed through her flat words and the chilling intensity in her eyes, struck home. The men's faces, already pale, turned ashen. Their active, terrified body language confirmed their understanding.

"It seems we are all in agreement," L continued, her voice still unnervingly calm. "Let's proceed." She dragged a nearby stool and sat down opposite them at a rickety round table, the men staring at her, their eyes filled with a mixture of terror and seething malice.

She even placed the silenced pistol on the table between them, then clasped her hands together, an attempt to project a less threatening image. But to the men, especially David, it felt like a prelude to an execution. The axe had been poised, and now it was about to fall.

David steeled himself, a desperate resolve hardening his features. L, though appearing to look past him, registered his subtle shift in posture, the tensing of his muscles. She even noted the almost imperceptible change in his breathing, like a predator sensing its prey about to make a foolish move.

The other two scientists, Ben and the third man, Samuel, were frantically shaking their heads, trying to discreetly warn David not to do anything rash.

But David, fueled by a mixture of terror and defiance, didn't seem to care. He lunged, reaching for the gun on the table, his expression contorting into a snarl.

In his haste, his hand knocked against the unstable table. The table wobbled, but didn't fall. The gun, however, skittered away from his grasp and clattered to the grimy floor. His lunge had failed.

His expression turned ugly as he watched the gun slide out of reach.

L reacted instantly. Since David had chosen not to be "civilized," she would not be reserved either. The other men knew, with sickening certainty, that they were next if they did nothing. Though much older and weaker, they instinctively tried to move, to react.

L was faster. In one smooth, almost liquid movement, she produced a combat dagger from inside her trench coat. Evading David's clumsy attempt to grab her neck – a laughable effort, given her enhanced reflexes – she plunged the dagger deep into his right shoulder, twisting it brutally.

David screamed, a raw, agonized sound, and collapsed into a crouching position, clutching his bleeding shoulder.

As David fell, Ben had lunged for the fallen pistol, while Samuel scrambled towards the door. L didn't even glance at David. With all her biomechanically optimized strength, she delivered a vicious kick to Ben's face as he bent to retrieve the gun.

A sickening crunch echoed through the room – the sound of his nose breaking. Blood spattered, some droplets landing on L's pants and shoes. Without pause, L knelt on one knee, scooped up the pistol, and fired a single, precise shot. Samuel, who had just managed to wrench the door open, fell back into the room, a neat hole appearing at the back of his head. A pool of dark blood began to spread rapidly on the floor beneath him.

The execution was swift, brutal, and terrifyingly efficient. In the adjacent room, where Martha and her children were tied up, Martha, who had been watching through a crack in the wall, stifled a desperate sob, tears streaming down her face. She had witnessed someone she knew, Samuel, die horribly, and the killer was still in the house.

She had always warned the "boys" – Elias, Ben, and Samuel – to leave their past with Noxon behind them, that it would cost them dearly. She hadn't been wrong. They were all going to pay for sins they didn't truly commit, for simply knowing too much.

L stood up, calmly dusting off her trench coat as if she'd merely brushed against a dirty wall. She reloaded the pistol with a fresh magazine, her movements economical and precise, showing no emotional reaction to the carnage she had just wrought. She had just committed multiple murders. Now, only two men remained alive in the room: David, bleeding and in agony, and the unconscious Elias.

L turned her attention to Elias first. She walked over to his prone form and, without hesitation, unloaded several rounds into his head. His skull burst open like a dropped watermelon.

David, already traumatized, witnessed this final act of brutality. His eyes were empty, his body shaking uncontrollably. In the other room, Martha wailed, a sound of pure, unrestrained grief and terror. She knew this monster was systematically killing everyone.

She struggled fiercely against her ropes, but the knots were too complex, too tight. Why did this have to happen to them? She wanted to scream, but the monster's earlier warning echoed in her mind – the threat of her three children being chopped into pieces. She knew L wasn't joking. Her children, aghast, were nearby, their mouths stuffed with cloth to prevent them from screaming.

They were young, but their wide, tearless eyes told a story of a terror far beyond their years. They were far from okay. Martha could only cling to a desperate, fading hope that this monster might somehow show mercy.

L slowly walked over to David, who was still clutching his bleeding shoulder, a small puddle of blood forming on the floor beneath him. His efforts to staunch the flow were useless. L had already retrieved the dagger, just in case he tried to use it as a weapon against her. He was pale from blood loss and fear, his breathing ragged and heavy. L took his phone from his pocket and placed it in a small, clear evidence bag. Then, she crouched to his level.

"Have you told anyone else?" L asked, her voice soft, almost gentle. Before he could answer, she added, "Your family's life rests on your answer. Any mistake, any lie, could be a death sentence for all of them. All you need to do is speak freely." The irony of that last statement, given the circumstances, was lost on L, but the air in the room grew thick with tension, almost cold, despite David's profuse sweating.

L then noticed something. She stared at David's pants. He had failed to hold his bladder. L, in another calculated attempt at human-like interaction, decided a gesture of reassurance was necessary.

She placed her free hand on David's good shoulder. The touch was surprisingly soft, yet David could almost feel the cold, inhuman power beneath the skin. "It's not my intention to kill your family, David," L said slowly, her voice a near-perfect imitation of Lonah's reassuring tone. "They are lovely, innocent. All you have to do is answer me. Just take a deep breath. Calm down. No one is going to hurt them."

This seemingly affectionate action, this display of "Oracle's mercy," was profoundly terrifying to David. He nodded vigorously, his body trembling. "No," he choked out, his voice shaky. "I told no one. No one at all." He then proceeded to beg, incoherently, for his family's life. Suddenly, as if a forgotten memory surfaced, he asked, "Why… why did Noxon send you after me?" He was just curious, he stammered, that's all.

L looked at him, her head tilted slightly, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. "Why did you think Noxon sent me?" she asked, her voice still soft.

David was shocked by the question. He started to speak, to offer a theory, but L simply shook her head, a silent command to stop. The words died in his throat. L nodded, as if in understanding. Then, with her hand still on his shoulder, she applied a sudden, precise pressure.

There was a sharp crack. David's neck snapped, and he fell limp.

L stood up, put away the silenced pistol, and efficiently dragged the bodies of David, Elias, and Samuel into a heap in one corner, leaving a smeared blood trail on the floor. She then closed the door to that room and walked out into the area where Martha and her children were held.

Martha stared at L with a pleading, terrified look. "You've seen me," L stated, her voice flat. "What can we do about that?"

Minutes later, screams erupted from the house. Neighbors, alarmed by the sudden outburst, rushed over. They knocked, and when no one answered, they broke down the door. Inside, they found the three children, traumatized and kneeling before their mother. There were fresh marks on their wrists and legs, as if someone had just untied them. Their mother, Martha, was in a pathetic, horrific state.

Two bloody, empty sockets stared where her eyes had been. Two dislodged eyeballs lay on the floor beside her head. She was also bleeding heavily from her mouth.

When someone managed to ask the terrified children what had happened, they recounted everything, their voices choked with horror. They described how the woman – L – had taken out their mother's eyeballs and then her tongue.

The neighbors, noticing the blood trail, forced open the door to the other room. The scene that greeted them was graphic, even for people accustomed to the harsh realities of the Z-Highline.

These were low-level people, some with criminal pasts, but this was beyond anything they had witnessed. Some vomited at the sight and the metallic, rotten scent that filled the air. They had to call the police and get Martha to a hospital immediately, after first removing the traumatized children from the house of horrors.

On a road leading back towards the heart of Masonvale, a nondescript white sedan could be spotted driving slowly, almost leisurely. It was as if the driver had no particular hurry, no pressing engagement. The driver's side window rolled down. A human tongue was casually tossed out onto the asphalt. The window then rolled back up.