Warhammer: The Time Traveler

Chapter 41 Sasha's Determination

Inside a high-level office in the Biotechnology Building.

The once tidy office area has been reduced to a mess, with filing cabinets overturned and white papers scattered all over the floor.

The monitor screen was shattered, and shards of glass reflected intermittent glimmers and sparks on the ground; the walls were covered with bullet holes and charred marks left by energy weapons, like an abstract and violent graffiti.

The only light source came from the persistently flashing progress bar on the terminal screen, its pale blue glow appearing particularly fragile amidst the devastation.

The neon pollution from the city outside the window, which never goes out and flickers like diseased tissue, relentlessly seeps in, staining everything inside with a false and eerie hue.

Sasha huddled behind a heavy metal desk, her petite body almost completely hidden in the shadows, as if trying to turn herself into a forgotten piece of junk.

Her breathing was rapid and shallow, her chest heaving violently, each breath carrying a dusty and burnt smell.

Sweat soaked the hair on his forehead, clinging tightly to his pale skin.

She clutched tightly in her hand the ruggedly designed plasma pistol that Rebecca had given her, which was now unusually hot.

The muzzle was slightly red from continuous firing, and the built-in energy capacitor emitted a faint hum before overload, reminding it that it urgently needed cooling. The sound was just like a dying hummingbird struggling.

On the terminal screen, the progress bar representing data download and package upload was creeping closer to its end at an unsettlingly slow pace—94%, 95%...

Outside the heavy alloy door of the office, a sickening metallic scraping sound and regular, heavy thuds could be heard.

Those were biotech security robots using their enhanced arms or possibly breaching tools to try and force their way through the barrier she had hastily reinforced with nearby furniture and a damaged server rack.

The door has obvious dents, the edge sealing strip is twisted and deformed, and small metal fragments fall off with each impact.

"Faster...faster..." Sasha prayed silently, her amber eyes fixed on the progress bar, as if she could use her will to push it forward.

Her other hand unconsciously brushed against an old, worn-out holographic pendant in the inner pocket of her jacket.

That was the only photo she had with her mother and sister a long time ago. In the photo, her mother's smile was gentle but weary. At that time, she didn't know that the "miracle painkiller" she trusted, produced by biotechnology, was slowly and irreversibly eroding her life.

Hatred, like deeply buried embers, reignites instantly into a heart-wrenching, soul-consuming flame upon contact with the oxygen of truth.

This mission to infiltrate the core database of biotechnology and steal the target research data was originally just a routine commission.

But while navigating the data fortress of biotechnology, she inexplicably accessed early clinical trial records of that painkiller, which had been listed as "sealed."

The cold, hard numbers and internal assessment reports starkly reveal a fact: the top executives of the biotechnology company knew about the serious side effects of the drug, which could lead to neurodegenerative failure, long before it was launched on the market. However, driven by huge profits and market prospects, they chose to conceal and falsify data and accelerate its launch.

Her mother was just one of countless silent victims, an insignificant number on the company's greedy ledger.

At that moment, all concerns—mission rewards, team safety, and personal safety—were reduced to ashes by the fury roaring from the depths of memory.

She had only one thought left—to expose this blood-stained evidence and tear off the mask of hypocrisy in biotechnology.

Using her hacking skills, she packaged all the inside information about the painkiller and chose News54, a channel with a long history of conflict with biotechnology, as the recipient.

To ensure that the information could bypass the company's network blockade, she set up multiple layers of encryption and delayed release nodes.

However, downloading the massive data stream takes time, and her unusual data access behavior finally triggered the sensitive nerves of the biotechnology's internal network security system.

Tracking, locating, surrounding... everything happened so fast. "Bang! Boom—!"

Another loud bang, and a clear crack appeared in the center of the office door. The robot's scarlet optical sensors, like bloodthirsty eyes, scanned through the crack, the red light tracing unsettling paths through the billowing smoke and dust.

Sasha's heart clenched, and the knuckles of her fingers gripping the gun turned white from the force.

Progress bar: 97 percent.

She knew she was unlikely to leave here alive.

She has no regrets about it.

In her view, it was worth it to exchange her life for the chance to bring the truth to light and to give more families hope of avoiding similar tragedies.

She just... felt a little sorry for Mann and the others.

Mann, the rock-solid leader who always shoulders the team's burdens; Dorio, strong yet gentle, a motherly older sister who embraces everyone; Falco, taciturn yet highly skilled, the team's most reliable support; Pila, the sarcastic and cowardly but always reliable clown; and Rebecca…

That fiery-tempered, petite yet incredibly energetic Rebecca who treated her like a sister…

Thinking of Rebecca, Sasha's lips curled into a bitter smile.

She touched the still-hot plasma pistol in her arms.

This was Rebecca's precious possession, which she usually wouldn't let anyone touch, yet she gave it to herself without hesitation.

"Come back and buy me a drink!" Rebecca's domineering yet caring voice still seemed to echo in my ears.

"I'm sorry, Rebecca... I'm afraid I'll have to wait until my next life to pay for this drink," Sasha murmured to herself, her voice so soft it was almost drowned out by the banging on the door outside.

Progress bar: 98%.

Through the corridor surveillance footage she had hacked earlier, she saw not only one security robot, but also several fully armed security personnel in biotech armor approaching. Their weapons were already loaded, and heavy footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, creating a deathly encirclement.

Break through? Absolutely not.

This office is in dire straits.

She took a deep breath and tried to steady her trembling hands.

Even if I'm going to die, I want to take a few more down with me the moment the data transmission is complete.

She checked the status of the plasma pistol; the overheat warning was still flashing, and it was temporarily unsafe to fire.

So she put it back in the holster on her waist and drew her own lighter, but much less powerful, pinkish-purple pistol.

Progress bar: 99%.

The crack in the door grew wider and wider, and a cold metal claw suddenly reached in, grabbed the edge of the crack, and began to tear it outwards!
The piercing, distorted sound was like the dying wail of this door.

"Come on, you company lackeys!" Sasha's eyes flashed with a resolute light as he raised his gun, aimed at the door, and pressed his finger on the cold trigger, waiting for the final moment to arrive.

(End of this chapter)