Morning rush hour.
On the six-lane expressway, a minor crash had turned the second lane into a shouting match.
Blocked by a cargo truck, Mika Yoon leaned out the window, trying to see ahead.
“Why is it stuck again?”
Leo instantly pulled the scene onto the monitor. Through the satellite feed of MIKA-Link, Black Car Y’s cameras streamed a top-down view of two furious drivers.
“Use your eyes, damn it! My bumper’s wrecked — can’t you see that?”
“It wasn’t me! The robot was driving!”
“And if the robot did it, you still pay, genius! You own it!”
“You been talking down to me since we stopped — how old are you anyway?”
Mika smirked.
“Cutting-edge century, same primitive arguments.”
A patrol car slid in. One officer shoved a breathalyzer at a driver, the other handled paperwork.
Same old procedure.
“You’re clear. Both of you have dashcam footage, right? Move the cars to the shoulder.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Engines started. The jam began to ease, cars breathing free again.
Across the median, a silver serving-tray drone lifted from a café and glided toward them.
“Good morning, Ms. Mika. One iced Americano. Caffeine level: two hundred thirty-two milligrams.”
“Thanks.”
The drone’s lens scanned her face.
“Payment — thirty thousand five hundred i-won processed. Have a pleasant day.”
It wheeled away through traffic, returning to the café. On Leo’s dashboard monitor, Mika sipped through her straw.
Then the alert light flashed red.
“Intercepted feed: Police Vehicle 3014. Homicide at Terra Motors Plant No. 2!”
Mika dropped into the driver’s seat, sliding on her smart glasses.
“Manual mode.”
“Switching to manual.”
Her foot hit both pedals; the gear slammed into reverse. Tires shrieked — a 180-degree spin — then Car Y shot between lanes like a bullet.
“Warning! Speed violation! Traffic code breach!”
Leo’s LEDs flared crimson.
Dust exploded as Car Y braked hard before Terra Motors Plant No. 2.
Ahead, riot police and strikers were locked in chaos.
Hard-line union men blocked detectives from entering the gate.
“No one goes in!”
“A man’s dead! Let us investigate!”
Red and white ambulance lights flickered anxiously behind the barricade.
A paramedic muttered,
“Even with a body, they won’t let us through.”
Through swinging batons and pipes, Mika pushed in, camera raised.
Other reporters rushed to follow.
“Shocking News — Mika Yoon reporting. What’s happening here?”
A burly detective scowled, half ignoring her, yelling instead to his team:
“Clear out the civilians! Media out! Requesting authorization for forced dispersal!”
He turned back to the mob.
“You’re all under arrest for obstruction of justice!”
That only enraged them.
“Don’t back down! If the blockade breaks, we’re finished! Hold the line!”
The union roared. Shields clashed, boots scraped, orders screamed through radios.
A rookie shouted into his mic:
“Requesting riot squad support at Terra Motors Plant Two! Repeat — riot squad deployment!”
“Riot squad? Fine! Kill us all then! Defend the plant!”
The air broke open. Strikers swung pipes; police fell back under the barrage.
Pepper-fog grenades thudded from trucks — BANG, BANG! — and the world dissolved into choking haze.
“Cough— damn—”
While others stumbled and cursed, Mika pushed deeper through the fog.
Her lens locked on a shadow two hundred meters ahead —
a body dangling from the crane’s hook, limp, neck stretched like a hanged man’s.
In Car Y, Leo’s monitor caught the same feed.
The red REC icon blinked. He zoomed, enhanced, scanned — faces flickered across split screens until a match flashed.
Through the chaos, Mika reached the red-brick structure of Sector 3.
Coughing, she touched her ear.
“Report, Leo.”
“Victim identified: In-chul Cho. Former head of the Hard-line Union. Twelve years in office. Terra Motors blacklist number one.”
“Suspect?”
“Second Union leader Zion Kang. Constant conflict between their unions — differing ideologies. Hard-line Union: In-chul Cho. Authentic Labor Union: Zion Kang.”
“Authentic Labor?”
“Formed July 19, 2036 — Terra Motors Second Union.”
Data flickered across Mika’s lenses — footage of Zion Kang leading a rally.
“Authentic labor, authentic humanity, authentic world!
We must stand on that path!”
Mika nodded slightly.
“So — Hard-line versus Authentic.”