"Even so, everyone wants to give the Mitra Group a good slap in the face before they die, right? That's why we've all come together here, because we believe I can come up with a reliable plan."
The Black Prophet said calmly,
"To be honest, we are really just a mob. We are just a group of students who have dropped out of school, unemployed workers, and 100% of us are young people. If a mob like us rushes in to our deaths without a plan, we will just be cut down like grass. But if we design a plan that is too complicated, we probably won't have time to hone our skills and cooperate. So my plan is not very reliable, and I will tell you all about it now."
"First of all, leaders, although we are called a 'gang' by the public, we are actually small resistance organizations that attack the company and never target ordinary people. Have you ever considered why, even though we are attacking the company's businesses, the people report us and hate us?"
He brought up the topic again.
Many gang leaders had already considered or discussed this topic, so they immediately replied, "Because the current environment is too harsh, companies are actually the ones maintaining the people's living conditions. Haven't we already said that?"
The Black Prophet nodded: "That's true, but let's think about it further. We're ordinary people too. We don't want to live, and we're not afraid of death. What's the driving force that keeps the others hanging on, making them willing to live numbly like this, continuing to be exploited and enslaved by the company?"
This left many people looking at each other in bewilderment—what else could it be? It's just the will to survive, right?
"No. At least not entirely." But Black Prophet refuted this conclusion. "It's because most people still feel that there's at least a safety net, so they won't stand up against the company. Most of us are graduates of prestigious universities, and we all have a sense of pride. We're not willing to insert a chip and earn a daily wage of 20 yuan. We don't accept this safety net, but most people are not like that."
“For most ordinary people, no matter how bad things get or how terrible the company is, they can always just get a chip installed and they won’t starve. They can always just lie down and relax. That’s the thought that’s on many people’s minds. So when we attack a company, they feel that we have broken their safety net and naturally they will resent us.”
The Black Prophet's explanation left the gang leaders somewhat bewildered, yet speechless.
One of them asked, "So how exactly can we change their minds?"
But the Black Prophet shook his head again: "You're overthinking it. How can we possibly change other people's minds? Just do your best."
"If we can teach the Mitra Group a lesson before we die, and do it in a spectacular way, that's already a win for us. As for whether it will move or awaken the people who see it... hey, the people don't care about us, so let's not overestimate ourselves, shall we?"
Wow! This guy actually said such demoralizing truths before leading everyone to fight to the death!
But no one could really refute it. Through this step, many former students who had subconsciously dreamed of moving the people by dying were now given a cold shower, and instead saw themselves more clearly and calmed down.
Hoping that his death would awaken the people... Hahaha, reality isn't that kind of wonderful!
The long silence continued for a while until Sting finally spoke up and asked, "So what exactly is your plan? You think it doesn't matter since it's just death? Surely not?"
"Of course not. Regardless of whether the people care or not, since we've decided to do it, we should strive to do our best."
The Black Prophet shook his head, pulled several memory cards marked with red paper strips from his leather jacket, and calmly said,
"This is a cursed virus that we created ourselves using the knowledge taught by the Avengers. It contains all our hatred and despair for the Mithra Group, this world, and this era. Our goal is to break into the skill chip manufacturing plant in the industrial zone, inject this virus, and let this hatred and despair spread along with the data transmission of the skill chips."
“Every ordinary person’s heart is surely filled with suffering and sorrow right now, but the numbness of daily life has suppressed it. So perhaps there is a slight possibility that when people see through the chip how desperate we are about the times and how much we hate the company, it will lead to some change in their thinking—at least let us hope so.”
He said with a wry smile.
Hearing the Black Prophet say this, everyone fell silent, more or less.
However, one person still asked, "Breaking into the chip manufacturing plant and injecting a cursed virus is indeed a good idea. But how exactly do we break in? Do we fight the Mithra Group's security forces? What if there's a Vajrapani over there?"
Vajrapani!
The mere mention of the name caused the young men, enemies of the Mitra Corporation, to become serious, some even muttering curses under their breath. They might be able to put up a fight against the New Seattle Police Department; but against the Mitra Corporation's security detail, those paramilitary units, these young men could probably take down a few with their sheer fervor.
But the War Gods... well, let's just forget about them. Everyone knows to avoid them even in their dreams. They're like earthquakes, landslides, and thunderstorms—mortals can't control them, they can only dodge them, avoid them, and try not to get killed.
“Of course I did my research beforehand,” the Black Prophet explained. “There are no Vajra Guardians stationed at the chip manufacturing plant. But your question is valid; there are indeed some Vajra Guardians stationed here in New Asia… but for some reason, they seem to reside permanently underground in the New Asia branch building. They shouldn’t suddenly appear from the company building.”
"But your question makes sense. So my plan is for us to split into two teams. The decoy team, equipped with their best gear, will rush in through the front door of the Mithra New Yatu Corporation building to draw the company's attention. The main team will use illusion magic to disguise themselves and sneak into the chip manufacturing plant in the industrial area to inject the cursed virus as much as possible. As long as we arrange for both sides to act simultaneously, the main team's chances of completing the mission are not low."
This is indeed not a complicated plan; frankly, it's very rough... But as the saying goes, a rough plan, with room for improvisation, is actually less likely to go wrong. After all, we're just a motley crew; we can't be too meticulous.
But no one present was stupid; they immediately understood what the Black Prophet meant. For example, Sting quickly asked, "What if the decoy team attacking the main gate actually lures out the [Vajrapani God]? Won't they all be wiped out in one fell swoop? What about the evacuation plan?"
“There’s no such thing. I lead the decoy team, and they’re all from the Black God Gang. We fight to the death,” Black Prophet replied calmly. “As long as we’re still alive, we’ll cause as much damage as possible inside the company building. There’s no need to worry about the main team.”
噫
Even though these people were already prepared to die, they couldn't help but shudder upon hearing these words. To die with the enemy out of anger, passion, and fervor is already a kind of courage—but to calmly and composedly head towards one's own destruction, as the Black Prophet planned, requires a different kind of courage altogether.
This Black Prophet is clearly insane.
Interestingly, despite the Black Prophet's madness, after the chills subsided, others couldn't help but feel a subtle admiration, even a longing, for him.
Such courage, such madness, such despair—it's utterly despicable! This leader of the Black God Gang inspires both fear and secret admiration in the young men of other gangs!
--------------------------------
After the meeting, the gang leaders dispersed to gather their men and prepare for a planned attack at midnight on the Mitra branch building, where the decoy team would attack first, and the main team would then infiltrate the chip manufacturing plant in the industrial zone to inject a virus.
As everyone watched the Black Prophet and his followers leave, they knew they would probably never see him alive again.
"Even if our plan succeeds today and we don't die halfway through, what will we do then?" A minor leader from another gang couldn't help but sigh. "Can this virus program alone awaken the people's determination to rise up in rebellion and overthrow the capitalist gods? If it doesn't, will we be the ones being reported to the company by the people next time?"
The question was so obvious that no one even tried to answer it—of course not! Everyone knows that perfectly well!
But knowing full well that their death would be meaningless, at most just a slap in the face to the Mitra Group, the fact that they still had to take such a risk made everyone, including Sting, somewhat disheartened.
Ironically, it was precisely in this atmosphere that Sting and his team successfully infiltrated the industrial chip manufacturing plant. Explosions and gunfire were already echoing from the Mitra branch building in the city center. The Black Prophet and his Black God Gang were clearly engaged in a fierce battle with the company security, causing even the security guards at the chip manufacturing plant to lose focus. This gave Sting and his team a significant opportunity. Fewer than ten students (infiltration missions obviously can't involve too many people) cautiously advanced through the chip factory, encountering not a single guard along the way.
Unfortunately, just as they reached the educational resources room, a few people blocked the path that the dropouts had to take.
The scout reported first: "[Boss Sting, there are a few people in the educational materials room.]"
Are you a security guard?
[No. They're probably not military personnel either. They seem to be a few programmers or some kind of office worker working overtime.] The scout reported for the second time, [We haven't injected the virus into the database yet; that will take time. Should we kill them to silence them?]
The correct answer is probably "yes." Compared to the lives of others, even those of Sting and his own men, this plan is clearly more important. If this plan succeeds, and people begin to understand the hypocrisy and folly of this world, and realize how hopeless this era is, perhaps some change will begin...
...Even so, through the video calls from his underlings, Sting saw those ordinary overtime workers in the distance, and noticed a family photo on one of their desks. He couldn't help but feel a little soft-hearted. He just couldn't completely convince himself to believe in the Black Prophet's doctrines.
We're all just ordinary people. This ordinary company employee didn't do anything wrong, so how can they just kill him?
So this is how Sting replied to his underlings.
Just knock these workers unconscious. It will only take us five minutes to inject the virus.
The underlings mostly agreed with this idea. Besides, they were all top students from prestigious universities; knocking out a few employees working overtime was no problem...right?
Those who think this way have clearly overlooked the extent to which skill chips can enhance people's magical abilities.
No sooner said than done! Just as Sting's three henchmen were about to secretly cast a spell to knock them unconscious, the programmers who were busy suddenly jumped up as if they had springs in their butts, and fired three [Stun Arrows], knocking the three henchmen unconscious!
"what's the situation?"
The programmer didn't react immediately, merely subconsciously accepting the instructions from the skill chip. But upon seeing the group of dumbfounded gangsters, he instantly understood.
"They're here to cause damage! Report it immediately! Report it immediately! Press the alarm button!"
This really got out of control.
But whose fault is it really?
Was it Sting's fault for being soft-hearted at the last minute? But even if he hadn't been soft-hearted and had been ruthless enough to kill, it would probably depend on whether the programmers' skill chips would allow it. The outcome would probably be much the same.
So, are these programmers acting as accomplices to the tyrants, trying to protect the capitalists' property when they are just ordinary workers? But after all, this is their job, and they are just following orders.
So no matter what Sting chooses, the result seems to be the same—in reality, he has no choice at all. Compassion, ruthlessness, running away, or giving up—it's all meaningless; it will only lead to despair.
Two minutes later, these unfortunate dropouts were surrounded by the factory's security department.
278: Crossing the Border
These dropouts, including Sting, underestimated the power of skill chips. They only thought that those who wore chips were being exploited by companies and enslaved by the god of capital, without considering that they had no right to sympathize with others.
It's one thing for people working in hamburger shops to only install low-level chips. But in more critical places like chip manufacturing plants, Mitra Corporation equips their operators with combat security technology, even combat reflex programs!
It was thanks to this combat reflex program that three of the eight dropouts were caught off guard and knocked unconscious. The remaining five (including Sting himself) couldn't even break into the archives, and a fierce battle erupted in the factory corridors. Spells, rays, and magic bullets flew in different directions, and shelves in several offices were hit and exploded. Hundreds and thousands of chips, computers, and factory assembly line equipment were blown to pieces, with shattered fragments raining down on the ground. For some reason, some blue and white ghostly figures emerged from the equipment and appeared to float in the air.
"Bombard them with area-of-effect magic as much as possible!"
Forced by circumstances, Sting finally came up with a wicked idea.
"They won't dare use area-of-effect magic to attack us anyway, so even if we just randomly bombard them, we'll still be ahead!"
Anyway, this is Mitra Corporation's chip factory.
Sure enough, as the students recovered and began unleashing a barrage of explosive fireballs and lightning bolts, the chip engineering staff could no longer hold out. They were, after all, just ordinary people with skill chips implanted; they possessed the technology but lacked powerful bodies and good equipment. Furthermore, the staff couldn't use area-of-effect magic in the factory. It was like two armies fighting, with only one able to provide suppressive fire—the advantage was simply too great. Within two minutes, all the nearby operators were knocked to the ground by the students, and unfortunately, the data room was also completely destroyed.
"Are there any usable terminals left?" Sting quickly asked his henchman A, who was more skilled with machinery. "Just blowing up the surrounding area won't do much good; the company can fix it with their repair magic! We need to find an interface quickly and inject the cursed virus that the Black Prophet gave us into the chip production line!"
Unless damaged by something exceptionally powerful or unusual, ordinary mechanical failures can be repaired by the company using sufficient resources. This might waste some of the company's time and energy, but ultimately it won't cause a truly significant impact.
For a mere dropout gang to truly influence a major corporation, they would probably have to resort to the cursed virus created by the Black Prophet.
However, if you want to fully integrate it into the chip production line, you need to wait another five minutes.
Five minutes! Normally, waiting five minutes wouldn't be a problem if they hadn't been discovered. But now, if these students really waited another five minutes, the factory's security team would definitely arrive. Once surrounded by those paramilitary-level soldiers, these former students would be in serious trouble.
"Boss, how about we insert the virus card, let it load on its own, and then we run away?"
After hesitating for a moment, younger brother B tentatively asked,
"Even if the security guards come over, they will definitely rescue people and search us first. They certainly won't find any virus cards inserted in the server room and running within five minutes."
Admittedly, the proposal was very persuasive, even tempting. Although the members of the Sting gang had long been determined to risk their lives to do something big, who would want to die if they could survive? ...But if Sting and his gang inserted the memory card and ran away, and the factory security removed it later, everything would be for nothing.
Thinking of the Black Prophet and his Black God Gang, and how they were currently risking their lives as bait at the Mitra branch office building, Sting gritted his teeth: "No way! The Black God Gang is sacrificing themselves for us, and we're not even willing to gamble with our lives?!"
The underlings were speechless. Yes, for the Black God Gang to be used as bait was a death sentence; even if they survived, it would be worse than death. They were simply gambling with their lives, so what was there to complain about?
“Alright, since the boss has said so,” So henchman A smiled. “I’ve already inserted the virus card into the host. We’ll just wait here for the remaining four minutes!”
"Four minutes? Do you really think the security guards at Mitra's factory have us cornered? Hahahaha!"
And so, they woke up the three who had been knocked unconscious at the beginning. The eight dropouts, laughing and joking, remained where they were, quickly setting up some roadblocks and cover, determined to fight to the end—after all, it was only four minutes. Four minutes? The factory security guards weren't some kind of Vajrapani; they couldn't possibly eat all eight of them in one go, could they?
————————————————————————————
As it turns out, they were just too confident.
Three minutes after the virus card was inserted into the main unit, the factory security team arrived. There were only ten of them, so Sting and his group were initially optimistic. After all, even the factory security team couldn't use area-of-effect magic inside the factory. And the dropouts only needed to stall for two more minutes, so the advantage was on their side, right?
However, the students were wrong. It wasn't just ordinary security guards who came; the factory's technical supervisor was also there.
And this person happened to be a Protoss. A typical Tech Protoss, not a Combat Protoss. He looked middle-aged, with blond hair and a rather gentle face. But after examining the makeshift bunkers and roadblocks erected by the dropouts, he raised his hand towards them and said, "[Death Finger]."
A beam of green light shot from the Protoss commander's fingertip, piercing through the cover as if it were nothing, striking Henchman A squarely in the face. In an instant, he collapsed to the ground, dead. His eyes remained vacant, a final smile lingering on his face.
That brief second felt incredibly long. For a moment, the students were completely stunned.
However, the Protoss commander on the other side wouldn't wait for the students to react. His figure swept through the gaping hole in the cover, followed by a second flash of green light—and with a snap, his underling B also fell to the ground dead.
This technical lead wasn't a combat-oriented Protoss. But even so, everyone should know—the Protoss slaughter mortals as quickly as mowing grass!
So Sting and his underlings were simply mowed down. They didn't even have time to react, nor did they have a chance to launch an effective attack on the gods. Sting brandished his magical artifact and cast a lightning spell at the god's leader, but the god easily swatted it away. Then, he reached out and, with an irresistible, vise-like force, grabbed Sting's neck, slamming him face-down onto the ground, forcing air out of his lungs. Several muffled thuds told Sting that his underlings had suffered a similar fate.
The situation was so sudden that Sting didn't even have a chance to feel despair.
(Well, I guess you can say I got what I wanted.)
Even as he was being forcefully pinned to the ground, he was still thinking...
(We got completely crushed by a Protoss. That's not surprising. So be it. We've already dragged this out for about five minutes anyway.)
Yes, they had indeed dragged it out for five minutes. But that wasn't entirely a good thing. Because when the technical supervisor finished inspecting the site and finally understood what Sting and his team had done to the skill chip production line, the anger on his face was enough to make even these audacious dropouts tremble slightly.
"Hold these brats tight, and whatever you do, don't kill them. Wait for the company to come and take them away. They've caused a huge mess." The supervisor coldly ordered the other mortal security guards, then turned to Sting, "You'll soon be lamenting why you didn't die as early as those two corpses."
"Wow, do you think I'm easily scared?" Sting scoffed. "We dared to come here to do this kind of thing, of course we were prepared to be killed by you, to be tortured and abused by you! Fuck your god bastards! Seeing you get angry today, my pleasure is worth more than being torn to pieces by you!"
These words immediately caused the other captured henchmen to burst into laughter. Unfortunately, they didn't have a chance to laugh for long, because several security guards hit them hard in the face several times with sticks, leaving the henchmen with blood streaming from their mouths.
Strangely, the technical director wasn't angry when he heard Sting say that; instead, he sneered, "Nonsense. You think you're the only ones who will pay the price for all the trouble you've caused?"
Sting wasn't stupid. Hearing the factory manager's words, he immediately understood the implication, and the wicked smile on his face disappeared: "Friend, don't let family members be punished. This isn't some feudal dynasty. You can't possibly go and exterminate our entire family just because of what we did."
"Exterminating nine generations of your family is out of the question, as that would be illegal under any circumstances. But do you think the company can't legally demand compensation from your families for their losses?"
The gods looked at Sting with the eyes of someone looking at an idiot.
"Not only that, we will also thoroughly investigate your family backgrounds! All your families, relatives, friends, and close classmates will be arrested by the company, interrogated repeatedly, and then added to the company's blacklist, never to be hired again! Do you understand? You have caused such a big mess today, the company will absolutely not let you die easily."
"When your family, relatives, friends, and classmates are all burdened with huge debts because of you, unable to find jobs, and not even have the chance to work as waiters with a chip implanted in their bodies; when they are all unemployed and about to starve to death, then see how they will curse you troublemaking idiots! Even if they manage to survive, this debt will be something they can never pay off, and it will continue endlessly for their children and grandchildren!"
These words finally made Sting and the others' faces change color! They were determined to die for the world, not to drag their families down with them. Self-sacrifice might be noble, but dragging others down with you is deadly. Tomorrow they might not exist, but their families would. If this involved their family and friends, it would be legal murder!
The thought of what the company would do to his family, relatives, and friends sent chills down Sting's spine, and cold sweat broke out all over his body. For these young people rebelling against the company, such a threat was more terrifying than dying a thousand times over!
"You...you fucking bastard! I'm going to kill you! I'm going to kill you all, ahhhhh!!"
That being said, such impotent rage is obviously useless. No matter how much they curse, hate, and rant, the gods of capital won't just collapse and die on their own. The protoss technical director, on the other hand, is sneering. This isn't because he's inherently cruel, but because he's very annoyed—these student terrorists have caused a huge disaster, and the supervisor on duty will naturally be held accountable by the company.
Because of today's misfortune, this supervisor's current salary and benefits, as well as his future promotion opportunities, will definitely be affected. So what's wrong with him hating these student terrorists? Watching the dignity and courage of these dropouts gradually crumble, he actually feels a sense of vengeful pleasure!
So, increasingly desperate, Sting could no longer find any hope in this proto-human supervisor. He turned to look at the other factory security guards present—they were all just mortals like him, not proto-humans—but in their eyes, Sting saw only dark hatred and anger towards the students. These security guards were just ordinary people who had been put to work and received pay, preferring to avoid trouble. But these students had come to cause trouble, and might even get them fired!