"Dad, look! The Terminator!"
Young Frank flexed his muscles at his father, Frank Castle. "Can you lift sothing that heavy?"
Frank felt a bit awkward. If he said yes, that thing sure didn't look light. But if he said no, admitting defeat in front of his son didn't sit well either.
But how could a special forces soldier like him compare to a forr bodybuilder when it ca to weightlifting? What was he supposed to say—explain to his son that his dad was better at killing people on the battlefield?
To be honest, the more he settled into family life and the closer he got to happiness, the more uneasy he felt about what he had done overseas. Otherwise, he wouldn't have requested to return ho and take a less active role.
Maybe this was the curse of Arican soldiers. Who told them to make that impulsive decision to enlist in the first place? In the end, what other path was there for soone like him?
Frank's wife, Maria, noticed her husband's discomfort. She playfully tapped their son's nose. "Your dad might not be able to lift as much as the governor, but he's still your dad.
We love our family, not because they're the strongest or the best, but because we're born to care for each other."
"I get it, Mom. I was just asking."
The family sat outside a café, planning to enjoy a peaceful afternoon together after watching the impressive governor's speech.
Across from Frank, his young daughter, Lisa, suddenly pointed behind him. "Dad, look! So many vans!"
Frank turned toward the direction Lisa was pointing—several identical vans were on the street.
His instincts kicked in imdiately, and he noticed sothing wasn't right. On the other side of the street, vehicles moving at a similar pace appeared to be closing in.
They were surrounding the area.
Frank frowned, scanning his surroundings. He saw Governor Newsom stepping off the stage, finishing his speech and preparing to mingle with the crowd.
The café was about 100 ters from the square, roughly a block away.
As Frank's gaze lingered on the governor, a thought suddenly flashed through his mind:
The governor's earlier car accident—it wasn't an accident at all!
"Shit. Maria, we need to get out of here."
The mont he stood up, the vans suddenly accelerated, rushing toward him!
The street was blocked, and heavy machine gun barrels erged from the van windows. Staring down the black, gaping muzzles, Frank felt his blood freeze, as if he were a rookie soldier facing his first battle.
This was New York. This was supposed to be his family vacation!
How did it co to this?
It felt like they were coming for him!
"Run!!!"
In that instant, Frank unleashed incredible strength.
With a roar, the veins in his neck bulged as he grabbed both kids and sprinted toward the café with all his might.
The re 20 ters to safety felt agonizingly long in his eyes.
The children's screams drowned out the gunfire. For the first ti in his life, Frank wished he had three heads and six arms, wished he were a superhero who could protect everyone.
In his panicked gaze, he saw people scattering in all directions, his wife standing in stunned confusion, her eyes searching for him.
At that mont, Maria's bewildered expression overlapped with countless others in his mory—the blank stares of comrades, civilians crawling out of rubble, and ard militia waiting for death.
He knew all too well what happened in situations like this when faced with this many automatic weapons.
But he only had two hands. Holding his two children ant he couldn't protect his wife.
There was no crueler choice in the world.
As a soldier, never in his life had Frank wished for a world without firearms as desperately as he did now.
Like a civilian.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
Gunfire, screams, shattering glass, and the sound of bullets slamming into walls blended into a horrifying symphony. Blood splattered everywhere in an instant!
Bang!
Frank dove to the ground, shielding his two children with his body. In the hail of bullets, he held them tightly. His trembling body, much like a rookie's on their first day of battle, had long forgotten reality.
Exaggerated explosions rang in his ears, and searing pain shot through his back, yet Frank didn't dare to move!
It felt like an eternity had passed before he heard the voices of his children and realized that the gunfire had stopped.
He lifted his head cautiously, his gaze imdiately darting to his wife. He even forgot to breathe, terrified of what he might see.
To his imnse relief, Maria had already taken cover behind a barricade, her disheveled appearance suggesting that she had been thrown into safety rather than having dived there herself.
Around the chaotic square, nearly everyone had found makeshift cover to shield themselves.
Atop a lamppost, a figure clad in a striking pink, white, and black bodysuit nonchalantly shook their hands.
"Oh my god, has political strife evolved to this level now? A bunch of guys with automatic weapons sweeping the streets? This is exhausting," the mysterious figure muttered.
Looking back at the ard thugs, it beca clear what had happened: their guns were clogged with webs, with so even backfiring explosively.
The occupants of the vans all turned their attention toward Gwen, who tilted her head playfully. "So, where the hell are you guys from?"
20 Minutes Earlier: Leo Entered the Cyber Realm
[Data Firewall Connected]
[Current Computational Capacity: 3000 CCU]
CCU (Cybernetic Computation Unit) is a specialized tric for asuring computational power within the cyber realm, especially in large-scale network activities.
In cyber-surveillance manuals:
1-500 CCU represents small-scale cyber conflicts, typically involving personal hackers or minor groups.In comparison, the Night City cyberwar, where the dragon hunter intervened, utilized 20,000 CCU, crossing the threshold for major corporate-level cyber battles.
When a hacker dives into the cyber realm, they essentially beco a super bio-wetware core, with the majority of the CCU supplied by external facilities to form their data firewall.
The more skilled the hacker, the greater computational power they can wield, enabling more advanced attacks. However, higher CCU imposes significant burdens on the hacker, increasing the risk of permanent neural damage.
3000 CCU, equivalent to the computational power of mid-sized corporations in the Cyberpunk world, marks the baseline for most professional hackers.
But this was far from Leo's limit.
Focusing on the ctOS firewall before him, Leo began analyzing the system—a minimalistic structure primarily designed for data managent.
Electrical signals were converted into interpretable human sensory data using the Ihara-Bragg algorithm.
At first glance, the system appeared normal, but upon closer inspection, countless flaws erged.
The ctOS firewall, built using Skye's personal techniques, might seem robust under rational analysis via computer terminals. But in reality, it was riddled with vulnerabilities.
Unlike the adaptive, ever-changing firewalls of the Cyberpunk world, this static, rigid firewall lacked dynamism.
Even the sturdiest system inevitably harbors exploitable weaknesses!
This was the core difference between two generations of cybersecurity:
In the Cyberpunk world, elite firewalls constantly evolve to counter threats.
The ostensibly clean and orderly ctOS system was riddled with rust-like anomalies—corrupted data blocks interconnected in hidden areas.
While these minor irregularities didn't trigger the system's self-check chanisms, they stood out glaringly in the cyber realm.
In the cyber realm, the small octopus perched on Leo's shoulder prodded him and pointed toward the anomalies.
[Little Octopus]: Boss, these things are gross. Can I clean them up?
Leo nodded slightly. "Focus on observation and characteristic collection first. Let's see what they're up to."
The anomalous data streams were quickly analyzed by the octopus. Tracing their paths, Leo imdiately understood the enemy's intentions.
The anomalies could covertly cause faults along specific circuits at designated tis or even alter critical data.
All the anomalies pointed to one destination:
The plaza outside Oscorp Tower.
The supposedly flagged vans in the ctOS system brazenly sped through intersections, with their occupants ard with automatic weapons visible on the caras.
Clearly, the enemy believed their prolonged infiltration had secured their success and were now boldly preparing for a large-scale operation.
An assassination in the heart of New York City? Truly, these people were ahead of their ti.
Leo quickly sent a ssage to Gwen and Martin:
[Leo]: Political assassination, Oscorp Tower plaza.
Afterward, he glanced at the octopus.
"Let's go big this ti."
[Interfaces open. Preparing to amplify connection devices.]
[Warning]: Abrupt increases in computational power may cause severe cognitive decline. Please proceed cautiously.
[System]: Enjoy your experience.
User Comments
0 comments from readers