(Part 2) The Lazarus File was never a single, unified document.
It earned its infamous moniker simply because it skyrocketed to global notoriety on the back of the Lazarus Project.
Consequently, every blueprint, contingency plan, and theoretical paper orbiting this twisted branch of science was retroactively classified under the same umbrella.
The world first truly recognized the Lazarus File three months ago, during an open-source biological sharing forum.
The platform’s original purpose was benign: a space for scholars and professionals to exchange non-confidential research technologies and debate future prospects.
Countless brilliant minds had shared valuable data and legitimate research there.
Then, a blank, untraceable public ID materialized on the external boards and uploaded a proposal.
This was the infamous Lazarus Project.
The anonymous architect behind it was likely a Laterano, given the heavy reliance on religious terminology and structural dogma woven into the text.
This ghost user expressed deep, cynical confusion regarding the current trajectory of modern biological research, arguing that the entire scientific community was marching blindly down a fundamentally flawed path.
Rather than waste time arguing with the inevitable backlash from other practitioners, the user simply dumped the Lazarus Project onto the server.
It was a blood-soaked manifesto centered entirely on human immortality.
The files contained raw, unfiltered data on human experimentation, severe rejection reactions, live tissue grafting, and blood irrigation.
While the authenticity of the more extreme claims remained highly contested, one specific procedure—infusing the blood of the young into the deteriorating bodies of the elderly to temporarily revitalize failing organs—was swiftly verified by dozens of independent institutions.
The forum moderators deleted the post.
But the damage was already done.
The influence of the data spread like a virulent plague.
Dubbed the “Immortality Project” in elite circles, the proposal was quietly slipped onto the private agendas of powerful global leaders.
Massive corporations fractured and dissolved overnight, torn apart by irreconcilable boardroom wars over whether to pursue the forbidden research.
That turmoil raged on, eventually resulting in the establishment of a heavily fortified biological research organization in Columbia: Umbrella Bio.
Whispers in the corporate underworld suggested Umbrella had already moved past theoretical modeling.
Rumors claimed they were actively conducting preliminary trials based on the Lazarus Project’s directives, successfully developing terrifying byproducts of the Immortality Project.
These tidings circulated strictly among the ultra-rich, but it was enough.
Countless executives and corporate titans were ecstatic, quietly funneling massive black-budget funding and private military protection to Umbrella.
They were buying their own eternal lives.
Rival Columbian biotech firms and international conglomerates launched joint protests, but their outrage was utterly useless.
The prospect of an immortal ruling class was a terrifying concept, but it was far from the only problem.
The blank ID had seeded dozens of similar threads across various underground networks.
When the Lungmen Guard Department and local intelligence brokers investigated the digital trail, they discovered a chilling anomaly.
A significant portion of these leaked posts shared an obvious, inseparable link to a seemingly harmless courier service well-known in the Lungmen underworld: Penguin Logistics.
At the very least, digital forensics confirmed that several of the origin IPs traced back to sectors under the company’s direct jurisdiction.
There was no concrete evidence.
No surveillance footage.
No smoking gun.
But the syndicates and corporate fixers, driven half-mad by the promise of the Lazarus File, decided to issue a violent warning to Penguin Logistics anyway.
Why did so many of these leaks originate from your territory?
Even if we don’t know exactly what you stole, you definitely took something.
For the criminal element of Lungmen, it was a win-win scenario.
If they could extort the priceless data out of the couriers, they would be rich beyond measure.
If not, they lost nothing by trying.
After all, plenty of factions in the city had already grown tired of Penguin Logistics’ arrogant neutrality.
“In other words, you have neither evidence nor legal standing, yet you decided to ambush Penguin Logistics based on nothing but trumped-up charges?” “Isn’t that enough?” Looking down at Texas’s perfectly placid expression, the tall syndicate leader grinned.
His teeth caught the dim streetlights, appearing unusually sharp and feral.
“I’ll say it one last time: hand over the Lazarus File.
Our demand is simple.
As long as you make the data public, no one in this city will target you again.” “I will also reiterate,” Texas replied, her voice flat and entirely devoid of fear.
“Penguin Logistics has never possessed any so-called Lazarus File, nor anything resembling it.
At least, I am completely unaware of its existence.” “Are you really choosing to do this the hard way?” The tall man sneered, gesturing toward the back of the transport.
“Your companion is still sitting right there.
Aren’t you going to consider her safety?
Hmm?” “…It seems we cannot reach a consensus.
How unfortunate.” Texas slowly shook her head as she watched the dozen black-clad mercenaries gradually tighten their perimeter around the smiling Croissant.
Her hair instantly turned a deep, glowing crimson.
“Exusiai.
Warning shot.” “Apple pie!” The night shattered.
In a fraction of a second, a beautiful, terrifying firework display erupted from the interior of the black vehicle.
Accompanied by the deafening, overlapping roar of automatic gunfire, a dozen brilliant streaks of light tore through the darkness.
The Sankta’s aim was flawless, the glowing rounds accurately pinning the expensive mercenaries the syndicate had hired.
It happened so fast that the thugs on the ground hadn’t even twitched their muscles to charge.
They could only stare in horror as a dozen of their elite snipers and overwatch operatives tumbled from the surrounding rooftops, clutching shattered hands and screaming into the night.
Those with slower reflexes were still trying to process what the hell an “apple pie” was when they realized their carefully positioned crossbowmen were already kneeling on the concrete, howling in agony with clean bullet holes punched straight through their palms and weapons.
A few unlucky mercenaries plummeted directly from the high-rises, hitting the pavement with a sickening crunch and going instantly silent.
The sight made the tall man’s eyes nearly split with rage.
“Do you have a spy in our ranks?!” “Who knows?” Texas raised a slender eyebrow.
Her hands blurred toward her waist pouch, and two black sword hilts slid smoothly into her grasp.
With a low, resonant hum, twin blades of bright yellow Originium Arts condensed from the hilts, wreathed in a violently ominous dark red aura.
“Is it a spy?
Or are we simply that much better than you?
I’ll let your imagination decide.
But now that you’ve lost your long-range support, do you really wish to continue?” Texas took a slow, measured step forward.
“If you do, the next move won’t be a warning.
Penguin Logistics takes the safety of its clients very seriously.
We hope you won’t make things difficult for us.” “…Damn it!” Watching the Lupo woman, whose slender frame was now radiating a lethal dark red light, the tall man gritted his teeth.
He realized with a sinking stomach that this ambush was completely botched.
Thirteen elevated positions neutralized in a split second.
The enemy using devastating ranged firepower to suppress their melee fighters.
Even with a hostage in their grasp, this fight was a death sentence.
Firearms always beat blades.
By the time you heard the gunshot, you were already dead.
Laterano weaponry might not possess apocalyptic destructive power, but against street-level thugs, it was absolute overkill.
But why “apple pie”?
Watching his expensive mercenaries raining from the sky and writhing on the asphalt, the strongman’s first panicked thought was that their intel on the courier’s code words was fatally flawed.
Still, even entirely outgunned and suppressed, he had an image to maintain.
He couldn’t just back down and lose face in front of his surviving men.
Glancing at the twisted, fearful expressions of his remaining black-clad thugs, the leader gritted his teeth.
He decided to drag the Forte woman out of the car and propose a temporary truce, framing it as an “evenly matched” standoff to save his own skin.
But before he could even open his mouth to give the order, he witnessed something that shattered his remaining courage.
“Hey, hey, everyone move aside!
I need to get my gear.” Croissant, the Forte woman they had assumed was thoroughly and helplessly subdued, casually flexed her wrists.
The solid steel handcuffs groaned, warped, and then tore apart as easily as wet paper.
Smiling brightly under the shocked, wide-eyed stares of the entire syndicate, she reached into her travel bag and effortlessly hoisted a massive power hammer and a colossal, impossibly heavy riot shield.
She casually dropped the shield onto the pavement.
THUD.
The heavy, sickening sound of impact echoed through the alley.
Every thug present swallowed hard, their eyes dropping to the deep spiderweb of cracked concrete radiating outward from the shield’s base.
Croissant, completely free of her restraints, stretched her neck until it popped.
She offered the terrified, unprofessional attackers a faint, utterly cheerful smile and flashed them a thumbs-up.
Under the harsh glare of the vehicle’s headlights, her grin was dazzling.
“Since this isn’t an official mission, we’ll be leaving now!
But the deposit won’t be refunded.” “You—you weren’t restrained at all?!” the leader stammered, stumbling backward.
“Don’t judge me by my looks; I’m actually quite strong!” Croissant beamed.
“My strength is considered pretty great, even among the Forte.
Anyway, that’s all for now.
Please use Penguin Logistics often in the future, okay?
If you specifically request me for an escort, I’ll even give you a ten percent discount!” No, that’s not just a matter of being ‘quite strong’, is it?!
Staring at the heavy steel handcuffs that had been crumpled into a useless ball of scrap metal, the black-clad men subconsciously took a collective step back.
Their morale didn’t just break; it evaporated.
“That settles that.
Penguin Logistics thanks you for your continued support.
Goodbye.” If you are satisfied, please give our service quality a five-star rating.
Thank you.
The glowing crimson in Texas’s hair faded back to its normal, muted shade.
Watching Croissant approach with a bright smile, effortlessly lugging the massive shield and power hammer, Texas offered a polite, mocking bow to the frozen crowd of thugs.
She calmly returned to the driver’s seat.
Under the complicated, terrified gazes of the surviving syndicate members, the engine roared to life.
The black transport peeled out of the alley, leaving the broken ambush far behind in the dust.
[Rhodes’s Note: Enjoying the operation so far, Doctor?
(This daily grind literally pays the landship’s rent!
to use the links!)