Chapter 88: The Death of Locke

The corpulent figure was none other than Locke, the second-class officer stationed at Zone 64.

Though dusk had yet to fall, he was already engaged in his vile depravity. Beneath him lay a woman, a stranger with a face so contorted by pain that her beauty or lack thereof could not be discerned. Her figure, however, was nothing short of exquisite—ample bosom, slender waist, and bronzed skin. She lay sprawled upon a dining table, her long legs raised high—not out of wantonness, but in a desperate attempt to mitigate her agony.

Locke's movements grew more frenzied. Just as he was about to reach the pinnacle of his perverse ecstasy, a series of urgent knocks echoed from the door.

"Captain! Captain...!"

Locke frowned, but did not cease his thrusts. He barked impatiently, "You filthy wench—go open the door and see who it is!"

From another room, a frail woman emerged—her clothes disheveled and torn, her face marred by bruises. She cast a vacant glance at the naked brute and the helpless woman beneath him, then trudged listlessly to the door. This was the same woman with a disabled son—her life had clearly taken a crueler turn.

When she opened the door, an Alliance soldier stood there, face tense with urgency. "Is the Captain home?" Before she could respond, a sharp, anguished cry rang out from inside.

The soldier smirked cunningly. "Seems the Captain is... quite occupied. I'll wait here."

Moments later, Locke emerged, straightening his uniform with irritation. "Could this not have waited? Must you always ruin my mood, damn it?"

"This truly is urgent, sir—Xiao Feng has returned..."

Locke, mid-buckle, froze. "What did you just say?"

"Xiao Feng is back... along with Old White."

"Damn it! Just in time to bury them both. Gather every man—tonight, we end this!"

The soldier saluted crisply. "Yes, sir!" Then turned and hurried away.

Locke stormed back inside, donned his full uniform, slung an assault rifle over his shoulder, and left in haste.

Only the two women remained—both survivors of their own tragedies. The unfamiliar woman gingerly rose from the table, wincing at the pain in her lower body. Her eyes burned with vengeance.

"Damn you, Locke... one day, I will kill you with my own hands."

···

Lisa ushered everyone into her modest home and, in a torrent of grief, recounted her recent misfortunes. Her daughter's sudden disappearance had left her shattered. Worse still, her partner—slain by a beast while hunting—had left her utterly alone in the world.

Old White, moved by the sight of the woman he once loved, finally let his tears fall. "Come with me," he implored. "I know I made mistakes, but Alice's vision has returned—that's something I've managed to make right. Come to Godot City with me... at least there I have friends."

Lisa shook her head. "I cannot go with you. I no longer have the face to follow."

Turner clapped a hand on Old White's shoulder. "Enough of that, let's have a drink. Let her clear her mind, then you can talk again."

Old White nodded. "Alright then, let's go have a drink."

Xiao Feng chuckled. "Count me in."

Alice stayed behind with Ivy while the three men drove to the only bar in the small town.

The barmaid, catching sight of Old White and Turner, blinked in surprise, then burst into laughter. "Well, if it isn't the two bastards back from the dead!"

Her eyes then locked on Xiao Feng—walking in behind them, clad in a refined black outfit, carrying a sleek blade and a long case. He captivated her instantly.

"And who is this deadly handsome young man? Oh, my heart—he's stolen it already."

The sensuous barmaid walked up to Xiao Feng, examining his face closely.

Old White laughed heartily. "Don't get any ideas—he's like a son to me. You wouldn't survive him!"

She smirked. "Then let me have you instead. Are you up for it?"

Old White shook his head. "I'm not your man." He pushed Turner forward. "But he might be."

She looked Turner up and down, then scoffed. "Turner's got the goods... but rumor has it the engine downstairs is broken." She even pointed at his groin.

The entire bar erupted in laughter.

Turner fumed. "Which bastard started that rumor?! Today I'll prove I'm still in top form!"

He reached for his belt, ready to drop his pants in defiance.

Old White, still laughing, quickly stopped him. "Alright, alright—you're a champion. Don't make a scene."

Xiao Feng passed by and teased, "Turner, it's already legend—you're the man who wasn't."

The room roared again.

Turner, now boiling, shouted, "You little punk—come here so I can knock some respect into you!"

Xiao Feng grinned. "To prove his manhood, Turner's buying tonight—drink up, everyone!"

The bar's patrons raised their glasses, cheering.

"Turner's the man!"

"Long live Turner!"

Just as Turner lunged for Xiao Feng, the barmaid leaned into him, pressing her softness against his chest. "Looks like our captain Turner struck gold, hmm?"

Caught off guard, Turner inhaled her scent, felt her warmth—and immediately had a reaction.

The barmaid, sensing it, slapped him hard across the face. "Pervert."

Dazed, Turner watched her storm off, bewildered.

The men in the bar laughed even harder, the merriment rising to a new crescendo.