Fighters of Dimicel: Annihilation

Chapter 6

The bullets are not actually silver. The elements used for the suppression of magic looked similar to silver, but were properly called suppression bullets by the higher ups. Yet because of its role of executing rabid and uncontrolled humans, people became inspired by various myths of werewolves and vampires killed by materials made from silver, eventually giving it the nickname of silver bullets.

Blaise let out a chuckle as his response, shrugging his shoulders, his smile never fading.

"But it seems... production didn't stop, ay? We found lots of it on the rooftop. Coincidentally..." Blaise walked closer, his blue eyes twinkling. "All the deaths are caused by this."

"But why now?" Henry pondered.

Production of such bullets has long stopped for years, forgotten from memories and erased from records, all to avoid future replication. For it to appear again, someone would have known. Someone who can easily access confidential blueprints. Someone with an easy entrance to such materials in the first place is someone working in EIRENE with a rank high enough to read certain high classed reports.

Blaise shrugged. "Feels like we have been at peace for far too long, hasn't it?"

For a moment, the gears in Henry's head began to turn. The deaths of respectable fighters, sudden appearance of angelic centaurs, the murderous spies...

Henry snatched the bag and walked past Blaise. He waved his hand towards the young man, knowing someone in his mind that could bring him some underground information. It will not be cheap, but Henry has no worry paying it off. Considering he even freely let his bike explode on some angelic centaur's face.

"I'm still off duty, so do your needed investigation with the others. I'm gonna borrow your car for a bit."

Blaise and Hannah exchanged looks, unable to reply even if they wanted to. They both shrugged in synchronisation.

After what seemed to be a short ride, Henry parked the car on a small street. Dusk has settled down, revealing the bright neon cyberpunk aesthetics of the street. Though closer to a slum area, Henry stepped into the crowded markets, rubbing shoulder to shoulder until his eyes met the place he wanted to head to, Satan's Gate. A small casual bar that despite the modern futuristic and advanced look of the country, still only accepts cash payment. Henry found the name a little funny and edgy, yet it sounded memorable and iconic as talking about the bar brought people to turn their heads with interest.

Henry opened the door as it creaked, closing it behind him, drowning out the outdoor noise. The bar itself is also noisy, with eyes looking at him with a questioning gaze. Henry rarely comes into the bar after all, as he only enters to meet an old friend. Someone with a wide connection that gives him information he needs.

"Ay, Henry!"

The bartender greeted first, leaning forward on the counter. The bartender had long luscious locks, falling down to his shoulders and pretty brown eyes. If bartending is not his job, maybe being a model would be second.

Henry approached with a smirk. "The usual."

The man immediately poured a glass of red wine, sliding it towards Henry. "You look fuckin' exhausted, man. Shit happened? Wait, nah. Shit obviously happened. It's on the news. You good, bud?"

"Overworked, Jimmy. Haven't been getting a break." Henry took a sip. "Oh, by the way. Need your help."

Jimmy eyed Henry with a knowing look. A look Henry knew fully well. They both stared long enough, as if talking telepathically.

"Bike?"

"Yeah. I need a new one."

"The same model?"