Chapter 75: First Kill

Jay stepped out of the shower, steam curling around the marble bathroom of his hotel suite. The hot water had done little to wash away the adrenaline from last night's club-hopping. Who knew the reserved Jay had such moves on the dance floor? The memory of spinning some girl around to Girl's Generation at a tiny basement club in Hongdae brought an unexpected grin to his face.

He pulled on the clothes he'd bought yesterday—dark jeans, a simple black t-shirt, and a monotone loose sweater. Basic, but it would have to do until he could upgrade his wardrobe. The good doctor needed to evolve his aesthetic from "Strategic Boss" to something more... urban casual.

Grabbing his travel bag and the inconspicuous guitar case containing Muramasa, Jay headed out into Seoul's morning bustle. Gangnam looked exactly like he'd imagined—all glass towers streaming with digital billboards, luxury boutiques with Korean and English signage, and that particular Seoul blend of ultra-modern architecture and deeply traditional respect for hierarchy. Even the convenience stores looked like they belonged in a sci-fi movie, all clean lines and automated everything.

His phone buzzed with Kim Il Sung's GPS location as Jay walked down the spotless sidewalks, dodging ajummas with their wheeled shopping carts and salarymen speed-walking with their morning coffee. But as he turned the corner near Coex Mall, he noticed a crowd gathering, cameras and film equipment scattered around like a K-drama production.

"Noona, what's happening?" Jay asked a middle-aged woman clutching a Coffee cup, using the respectful term for older women.

"Aigoo! It's PSY oppa!" she replied excitedly, her Seoul accent thick with enthusiasm. "He's shooting a music video! My daughter will be so jealous!"

Jay's memory kicked in instantly. PSY and Gangnam district. His pulse quickened as he pushed through the crowd, trying to get a better view.

"Excuse me, hyung," he approached one of the assistant directors, a harried-looking guy with a clipboard and the telltale exhaustion of Korean entertainment industry overwork. "What song is he filming?"

The AD looked up, surprised to hear English with a slight Korean accent, then smiled. "Ah, oegug-in? You know PSY sunbae-nim? This is for his new song—'Gangnam Style.' It's going to be huge, I think."

Jay nearly choked. Holy shit. He was witnessing the birth of the most viral video in internet history. Without thinking, he pulled out his phone and started recording, taking pictures of PSY doing his ridiculous horse dance in a parking garage. The backup dancers were struggling to keep straight faces, and even some of the crew were trying not to laugh at the absurdity. Bobby and the gang back home were going to lose their minds when this song exploded worldwide in a few months, and he'd have live shoot videos to prove he was there.

"Jinjja incredible," Jay muttered, mixing English and Korean like any good oegug-in would.

After twenty minutes of fangirling harder than he'd ever admit, Jay remembered his actual mission. Kim Il Sung's location was only a few blocks away—a small convenience store that looked perfectly ordinary from the outside.

As Jay approached the 24-hour GS25 convenience store, something felt off. His danger sense was humming with the particular tension that came before violence. Through the store's windows, he could see the clerk—a thin man in his thirties with nervous eyes and hands that moved too quickly.

Jay pushed open the door, the electronic chime sounding artificially cheerful with its standard Korean "ding-dong" melody. The clerk looked up, and Jay immediately recognized Kim Il Sung from the photos. Mid-thirties, slight build, the kind of unremarkable face that made perfect sense for someone running a criminal operation from plain sight.

"Eoseo oseyo," Jay said casually, using the standard welcome greeting while browsing the ramyeon section and studying the store's layout. His enhanced senses had already revealed hidden cameras, reinforced doors, and most tellingly, a basement level that definitely wasn't standard for a corner store.

"Can I help you find anything, customer?" Kim asked in accented English, his voice carrying that particular Seoul inflection mixed with the artificial politeness of customer service.

"Actually, I'm looking for—"

Jay's danger sense exploded.

He dove sideways as a barrage of ice shards shattered the front windows, sending glass and frozen projectiles flying through the store. Jay rolled behind a display of instant coffee as Kim cursed in rapid Korean and hit something under the counter.

A mechanically amplified voice boomed from speakers outside, the Korean crisp and commanding: "Kim Il Sung and the rest of the M-Gang scum! Come out now if you want to live! Consider it mercy that we don't execute you bastards on sight!"

Jay crouched lower as Kim shouted toward the back of the store in panicked Korean: "Ya, they found us! Get out here right now!" His voice cracked with the kind of fear that came from knowing exactly who was outside.

The back door burst open, revealing more than a dozen mutants in various states of combat readiness. Jay's enhanced senses worked overtime, cataloging their abilities—pyrokinesis, super strength, some kind of acid secretion, and at least three with obvious physical mutations that screamed "dangerous."

But his attention snapped to the figures outside as they entered through the destroyed storefront.

It was the Tiger Division. South Korea's government-sanctioned superhuman response team, and Jay recognized them immediately from news footage and government publicity photos.

White Fox—Director Ami Han—took point, her fox-like features sharp with supernatural authority and confidence that came from years of NIS training. Behind her came Gun-R, the agent's advanced armor gleaming with that distinctly Korean aesthetic of form meeting function. Dan Bi followed, her traditional hanbok-inspired costume marking her as the team's mystical specialist, and finally Luna Snow—Seol Hee—the K-pop sensation turned superhero, ice crystals dancing around her fingertips like stage effects.

"Surrender immediately!" White Fox commanded in crisp Korean, her voice carrying supernatural allure. "You're surrounded and completely outgunned!"

"Fuck that!" Kim spat back in Korean street slang, his own power flaring as electromagnetic interference started scrambling the heroes' equipment.

What followed was a superpowered brawl that would've made the X-Men proud. Gun-R II's energy blasts lit up the store while Dan Bi's mystical guardian bear spirit sent products flying in controlled patterns, her traditional Korean shamanic training evident in every gesture. Luna Snow's ice attacks clashed with a pyrokinetic M-Gang member, creating steam that filled the cramped space while her idol training showed in how she moved—every attack flowing like choreography.

Jay decided this was the perfect opportunity to investigate the basement. He slipped around the chaos, the sounds of the battle covering his movement as he approached the reinforced back door.

Using his technomorphing, he opened the digital lock

But what he found in the basement made his blood turn to ice.

Small cells lined the walls, most containing children between eight and fourteen, all of them showing signs of malnutrition and fear. In the center of the room, two teenagers who couldn't be older than seventeen were connected to blood-drawing machines, IV lines snaking from their arms like mechanical parasites. One of them—a girl maybe sixteen—was unconscious, and Jay's enhanced senses picked up the telltale signs of recent surgery.

The clinical precision of the setup made it worse somehow. This wasn't random violence—this was organized, methodical harvesting of children.

"Who the fuck are you supposed to be?"

Jay spun to see an M-Gang member with extended claws advancing on him, the man's eyes holding the casual cruelty of someone who'd hurt children for profit and felt nothing about it. The mutant's claws were stained with what looked like old blood.

Something primal and absolutely furious erupted in Jay's chest.

Without conscious thought, he activated his tachyon field and drew Muramasa in one fluid motion. The enhanced blade, wreathed in the field, cut through the man like he was made of paper. Blood painted the basement walls as the two halves of the trafficker hit the ground.

The children screamed.

Jay snapped back to himself, staring at the gore coating his hands and blade, the metallic smell of blood mixing with the antiseptic scent of the medical equipment. The kids were pressing themselves against the back walls of their cells, terror written across their faces—terror of him now, the man covered in blood who'd just killed someone in front of them.

"It's okay," he said in gentle Korean, forcing his voice to stay calm while his hands shook with residual rage. "I'm here to help you. No one's going to hurt you anymore."

He used his technomorphing to unlock every cell with careful precision, then activated his healing aura. The process showed him everything through his enhanced senses—needle marks, surgical scars, signs of prolonged physical trauma. The girl with the missing kidney had been cut open by someone with crude surgical training who cared more about speed than the patient's survival.

Jay carefully lifted the unconscious teenagers, surprised by how light they were—too light, from blood loss and poor nutrition—and herded the younger kids toward the stairs. "Stay close to me, kids. When we go upstairs, there might be loud noises, but I won't let anyone hurt you."

The main store was still a war zone. Gun-R II's armor was sparking from Kim Il Sung’s interference, White Fox was bleeding from several cuts while maintaining tactical command, and Luna Snow seemed to be holding her own, her ice constructs keeping four M-Gang members at bay while she moved with the fluid precision of someone trained in both combat and performance.

Jay gently set the teenagers down behind the counter, positioning himself between them and the violence. He turned to the frightened children, his voice taking on the tone he'd use with his own patients back home. "Close your eyes and cover your ears. This will be over very soon."

Then he drew Muramasa again.

His null field expanded to its new forty-foot range—enhanced by absorbing Chance's power back in Hongdae—encompassing the entire store. Every mutant ability within range simply... stopped working. The M-Gang members looked around in panic as their powers failed, Kim's electromagnetic scrambling cutting out abruptly.

What followed wasn't a fight. It was systematic execution.

Jay moved with the cold precision of someone who'd decided these people didn't deserve to live, enhanced by Silver Samurai's tachyon field and Muramasa's supernatural sharpness. But he didn't give them clean deaths—these bastards had tortured children for profit. They'd sold pieces of kids to the highest bidder. They deserved to suffer.

He cut off hands first, watching them scream as they realized they couldn't regenerate or fight back. Then gouged out eyes from those who tried to run, severed tongues from those who screamed too loudly for the children to bear hearing. The dozen-plus M-Gang members became a symphony of agony, bleeding and maimed but kept very much alive to feel every moment of it.

Kim Il Sung, seeing his power scrambling fail and understanding that whoever this new player was had nullified his power, pulled a gun with desperate fury. Jay cut it in half so cleanly the metal surfaces looked like mirrors, the pieces clattering to the blood-slick floor.

For Kim, Jay sheathed Muramasa and placed his hands on the concrete floor. Carl Creel's absorption power let him transform his fists, growing concrete and mortar spikes from his knuckles like medieval weapons. He needed this to be personal.

The beating he gave Kim was methodical, calculated. Each punch landed with the weight of fury, opening holes in Kim's flesh, breaking bones systematically, turning his face into a geography of pain. Jay avoided vital areas—Kim needed to live long enough to suffer and answer questions.

Only when the man was barely conscious, blood bubbling from his mouth with each labored breath, did Jay activate his power theft ability, forcibly draining Kim's Functionality Manipulation power and absorbing it completely.

"Tell your Boss," Jay whispered in Kim's ear, his voice deadly calm and speaking perfect Seoul Korean now, "to hide and prepare himself. Because I'm coming for him next, and I'm going to make what happened to you look merciful."

One final, bone-crushing punch to Kim's temple sent him into unconsciousness.

Jay looked up to find Tiger Division staring at him like they'd witnessed something that challenged their understanding of heroism. The convenience store looked like a slaughterhouse—more than a dozen mutants scattered around, missing various body parts, pools of blood reflecting the fluorescent lights.

White Fox stepped forward with careful, measured movements, her supernatural grace evident even in the carnage, her fox-like instincts clearly marking Jay as a potential threat. "Unknown individual, you need to identify yourself and stand down immediately."

Gun-R's damaged systems tried to target Jay with clicking, sparking sounds. "Powering weapons systems," the agent announced in Korean-accented English. "I said stand down or we will open fire!"

Luna Snow was using her healing ice on Dan Bi, who'd taken a bad hit during the initial fight. Her K-pop star persona was completely gone, replaced by the focused professionalism of someone who'd learned that being an idol meant nothing when children's lives were at stake.

Jay ignored the threats entirely and walked over to check on the children, his movements careful and non-threatening despite the blood covering his clothes. Several of the kids were crying, but his healing aura was already taking care of their physical injuries. The psychological trauma would take much, much longer.

"Sir!" Gun-R's mechanical voice cracked through damaged speakers. "I ordered you to stand down and—"

"Gun-R," White Fox said sharply, using the android's designation with command authority. "The victims come first. Always."

She approached Jay with the cautious respect of one predator acknowledging another. "Can you tell me your name and why you were here?"

Jay looked at the rescued children, taking in their hollow eyes and the way they flinched from loud noises. Then, at the mutilated traffickers still groaning in their own blood.

"Get these kids to their families," he said quietly, his English carrying just enough Korean accent to mark him as oegug-in. "Make sure they get proper medical care and therapy. They've seen too much, been through too much."

White Fox nodded slowly, her expression unreadable behind her fox-like features. "We will. The NIS has protocols for this. But you—"

Jay sat down heavily on the blood-stained floor, suddenly exhausted as the adrenaline and fury drained out of him. The righteous anger had burned itself out, leaving to calm down.

He closed his eyes and tried to shut out the noise—the sirens approaching in the distance, Gun-R II's continued threats and system diagnostics, White Fox's careful questions about his identity, Luna Snow speaking softly to the children in the gentle Korean that idols used with their youngest fans.

For now, thirteen children were safe. It would have to be enough.