Chapter 67: Kisslanding Escape

Richard, disguised as a cleaner, set the trap on the 62nd floor. He primed the lift shaft, planted the charge, and blew the mechanism.

The explosion rattled the walls and sent alarms screaming. Smoke poured into the corridors. He staggered out, shouting, "Help! Fire! Somebody help!"

His small stature actually helped him go unnoticed, though not his voice.

Within seconds, terrified staff came flooding into the hallways.

Some coughed and covered their mouths, others grabbed what they could and ran. Security raced in, pulling people back, barking orders to get everyone out safely. The chaos was complete.

But that chaos had a hidden purpose—because down in the lower levels, NATO’s garrison was scrambling to gather. Their organized pursuit was delayed, but not stopped. They chose the staircase.

Up above, Riku crawled through the ventilator ducts, his gear dragging against his shoulders. Sweat stung his eyes, but he pressed forward, every muscle vibrating with adrenaline and lingering sedatives. Kieta’s voice crackled in his ear, clipped and steady:

"Turn right—wait—hold. Okay, move. Panel in front, override ready."

The cameras had detected his presence as the control room fell back into the hands of security forces, who were tracking him through the feeds.

He still needed to reach the lift, which meant crossing the ducts, making a brief appearance—sometimes with gunfire or by cutting water pipes to spark a diversion—and then slipping back into the tunnel to find the perfect route.

With each passing moment, the floor grew more crowded. Even though the larger NATO forces were delayed on the stairs, it was only a matter of time before they reached him.

"Left ahead... no ,No. Lift corridor. Wait... go." Kieta’s tone was clinical, eyes locked on code streams and his mapping figure.

With each keystroke, he cleared checkpoints and reopened locked panels, confusing the pursuing forces. Security meant to trap the intruder was now falling for their own tricks—one after another.

Finally, the lift hummed open at his command. "You’ve got clearance to the top. Ride it straight to a hundred. Move."

Riku rushed in, chest heaving, and let the doors seal.

According to his watch, only twenty-five minutes had passed since the core room—but they had been twenty-five minutes of pure adrenaline. His heart thundered, and every muscle still throbbed from the lingering sedatives.

As he huffed in the lift, a sound cut through the concrete above all else: rotors. The helicopter.

A familiar voice joined the channel. "Riku, mark your location. It’s your captain on the chopper." Ayane’s voice came like an angel in times of chaos.

He swallowed relief only after he reached the 100th floor and rushed near the glass.

He snapped open the laser cutter, carved a neat circle through reinforced glass. He lobbed a smoke grenade and the gray plume blossomed out, marking him like a flare.

The chopper tilted in close, blades whipping the smoke into ragged streaks.

Ayane leaned forward in the pilot seat, shouting in the comm "Jump, Riku!"

The bird couldn’t land above and it can only stand in parallel, may be little lower but leaving a certain gap in between which was too narrow and too exposed.

He didn’t think and retreated few steps. Then ran for the momentum and leapt with full might.

For a moment, he felt like he wouldn’t make it—but he caught the chopper’s railing and clung on. His muscles screamed, but his training held.

He hauled himself into the cabin, collapsing onto the metal floor. With his helmet off, he dragged in a lungful of cold night air, exhaling until his ribs ached.

Ayane gave him a quick thumbs-up before banking the chopper away from the tower.

For a fleeting second, it felt like freedom.

Then her voice cut in, sharp. Something new had appeared on the radar. "Incoming. Another bird behind us."

Li’s voice came over the radio. "Reporting: NATO Apache on trail. Approaching from the south."

"Affirmative," Ayane spoke again. It was shocking—according to their intel, no NATO helicopter should have been near the tower. This meant NATO had kept backup plans hidden, even from the Chinese officials themselves.

It must have been a rented and staged at a nearby concealed location. Thanks to Li’s observation from outside, it was confirmed: a fighter chopper was on their tail.

Ayane kept her calm. She pulled hard on the controls, keeping the chopper low, hoping the enemy would avoid firing in a civilian area.

But they were dead wrong. The NATO helicopter bypassed all humanitarian rules and opened fire. The only saving grace was that no missiles were used.

She dodged left and right, weaving between buildings to evade the incoming fire.

Riku grabbed the gun from her handle and began firing back at the enemy chopper, but his shots barely made a dent in the Apache.

"Gun’s useless!" he barked.

"Check the bag!" Ayane shouted, pulling the stick hard to dodge a fresh burst. "Anton left a launcher in there, bitching the whole time. Use it!"

Riku dove into the gear bag. His fingers closed on cold metal. An RPG launcher. Two shots.

He shouldered it, crawled to the side hatch, and aimed. But just as he fired, the Apache’s return volley shredded the air. Ayane yanked the chopper sideways. Riku lost his balance—the rocket missed, vanishing into the night.

Rounds tore through the tail. Warning alarms wailed.

Ayane’s voice was steel. "Riku, one shot left. I’m pulling us around. Face-to-face. Don’t miss."

Riku braced. Ayane banked, looping back along her own earlier path. They burst from behind a tower—and there it was, the Apache dead ahead, nose to nose.

Riku didn’t think. He aimed center mass, adjusted—no, too armored. He shifted, targeted the engine. His finger tightened.

The launcher barked. The projectile cleaved the night.

the apache tried to turn but the rocket screamed across the gap and struck its tail.

The NATO helicopter shuddered as metal screamed and glass popped. The tail rotor spasmed and then failed altogether. One precise strike had done what evasive piloting could not: it crippled the enemy chopper’s ability to remain under control and get complete rid of it.

The Apache plummeted, trailing black smoke, and crashed into the busy street with a massive explosion.

Ayane gave a quick grin. "Good shot." She pulled their helicopter higher, clearing the skyline.

But then the fuel gauge flashed red.

"Shit. Tank’s hit. We’re running dry."

The chopper trembled, tilting. Instruments flickered. Kieta’s voice blasted through the comms: "Captain, don’t lose hope. Crash land on any rooftop. We can extract."

But Ayane knew. The controls were bleeding away, the frame vibrating, slipping toward failure.

Her voice cut in, steady but final: "Negative. Bird’s finished. All units, scatter. Until further contact... over and out. "

Kieta screamed through the line: "Eject! Eject now!"

The cabin shuddered violently. Ayane’s hands clamped the collective, fighting every second of lift. She turned her visor toward Riku.

Through it, she saw his expression. It was Calm. Too calm.

She opened her visor and said, "We’ve got one chute," she said flatly. "Only one. Take it."

Riku gave a short laugh, bitter. "Not happening. I’m not leaving because you think I’m worth saving. If it’s one, then it’s both—or none."

"Riku, this isn’—" Ayane startled.

The helicopter lurched violently, rotors screaming. The world tilted sideways.

There was no time for argument. Riku grabbed the single packed parachute, checking the harness with the speed of a man who had taken bets with his life before.

He yanked the straps over her shoulders, cinched them tight, then tore the quick-release cover off the tandem lash.

"Tandem config—works for two," he snapped into Ayane’s ear. He’d noticed it during the gear check, a reserve unit rated for two. It was a god’s gift—none of them had known it was there. Thanks to modern standards, some parachutes were built for two in emergencies.

Ayane’s hands struggled to keep the chopper afloat while Riku fastened the straps around her and himself, securing the tandem line.

He had never skydived before, but his hands worked on pure instinct, doing whatever made sense. Positioning himself on his back, he pulled her against him as he stood at the door. The chopper continued to glide in a tilted spiral.

"Don’t be a hero I can’t bury," she hissed. For a fraction of a second it sounded like a plea—weight could drag them both down.

"Shut up. Don’t make me regret it," he answered, and together they shoved toward the open hatch and jumped.

The wind was a living thing now—hot gusts slamming their faces.

The helicopter became a thing of the past as both of them screamed, tumbling in the air, scrambling for balance.

For a breathless second it felt like falling forever. Riku pulled the lever at his back. The parachute burst open. He hugged Ayane tighter from behind, steadying the fall—and calming his own nerves.

It took a long second for the fabric to catch, then a violent lurch jolted their rhythm. The chute strained—then steadied.

The canopy ripped free at the perfect moment. They hung in the air like a balloon drifting down from the heavens.

Ayane clung to his hands, trying to steady herself. She had never felt so warm, so comforted, as when Riku’s grip held her firm. She could feel her own heartbeat pounding—and then realized where his hand was resting. On her breast, his palm pressed perfectly. Her face went pale, lips pursed.

She turned and said, "Riku... your hands?"

Riku couldn’t hear, nor understand. "What?" he shouted back while squeezing it with more deliberate pressure.

Any other time she would’ve smacked him senseless. But right now, he seemed too cute—and she wanted to just hold him.

"You are an insane idiot," she breathed.

"Likewise," he replied, guessing her tone. For the first time since the mission began, his smile broke through the knot of exhaustion and relief.

They drifted—a ragged, swaying pair—until the city rose up to meet them. As the ground rushed closer, Ayane turned again, asking him to lean forward. Riku, oblivious, did so. What he got instead was reckless: she kissed him.

It was brief, fierce, just a peck—but it felt utterly human, two people choosing each other over the mission.

They hit the earth hard—rolling, scraping, the canopy flapping like a wounded bird. They had landed in an open park at night. For a moment, they lay there—breathing, alive, bleeding, and laughing at nothing. Then silence stretched.

Ayane’s hand found his face. "If you die now, I swear..."

Riku winced, offering a crooked grin. "Try me." Then leaned forward again—this time for a proper, passionate kiss.

Behind them, a few meters away, the ruined helicopter collapsed in chaos. But the two of them rose, bruised but unbothered, and very much together, walking into the noise while the city carried the rest of the story.

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A/N: Just to clarify, Riku’s current temperament and thought process wasn’t all same as we know last before his death. His corruption has his own tale and so does will remain with Rohit as flawed MC. Though there are chances of redemption but in much later future.