Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!
Chapter 440 - 440: The Unwelcome Truth

The words tumbled out faster now, half-truths and desperate theories mixing with genuine discoveries. "I know there was some kind of fight not far from Rodeo. I know my brother saw something that got him killed. And I know it involved people—beings—that don't show up in any government database."

Annabelle examined her manicured nails with supreme disinterest, as though Karen was a mildly annoying interruption to her day rather than a grieving sister demanding justice.

"I've traced financial irregularities, shell companies, property records that don't make sense," Karen continued, her voice gaining strength even as she realized how flimsy some of her evidence sounded when spoken aloud. "Things that point to this address, to Parker Black, to—"

"To what, exactly?" Annabelle asked with the kind of bored patience usually reserved for explaining simple concepts to particularly slow children. "You think you've uncovered some grand conspiracy?"

Karen's face flushed with anger and embarrassment. "I know my brother didn't just die in some random break in. The coroner's report of his severed head was bullshit, the police investigation was a joke, and every time I tried to dig deeper, files disappeared or got corrupted."

"And you think that means what, exactly?" Annabelle continued, her tone suggesting she found this entire conversation tedious.

"I think it means your boss killed my brother to cover something up," Karen said, the accusation hanging in the air like a challenge.

Elena shifted uncomfortably, but Annabelle just shrugged with the casual indifference of someone discussing the weather.

"Even if that were true," the dark haired teenager said matter-of-factly, "what exactly do you plan to do about it? You're one mortal with a laptop and some half-baked theories. You have no idea what you're dealing with."

The casual dismissal hit Karen like a slap. She'd expected denials, threats, maybe even violence—but not this complete lack of concern about her accusations.

"You can kill me right now," Karen said, taking a step forward despite every instinct screaming at her to run. "But I'm not the only one who knows. I've set up—"

"Dead man's switches?" Annabelle interrupted with a yawn. "Automated uploads? Distributed backups? Yeah, we figured. Elena, should we tell her how easy it is to hack mortal technology when you operate on our level?"

Elena shot Annabelle a warning look, but the teenager continued with supreme unconcern.

"Look, Karen," Annabelle said, her voice carrying the kind of patronizing tone that made it clear she didn't give a single fuck about human emotions. "You're grieving. I get it. But you've stumbled into something way beyond your comprehension, and honestly? Your brother's death is probably the least interesting thing that happened that day."

The casual cruelty of the statement hit Karen like a physical blow, but it also crystallized her determination.

"I'm not leaving until I get answers," she said quietly, but with absolute finality. "I don't care how powerful you are or what you can do to me. I'm not backing down."

Annabelle looked at Elena, rolling her eyes with theatrical exaggeration.

"Fine," she said with the air of someone accepting an unwanted chore. "Let's go inside before you do something that accidentally triggers security measures you definitely can't survive. But don't expect anyone to actually care about your little revenge fantasy."

Karen's hands clenched into fists at her sides, her fingernails digging crescents into her palms as Annabelle's words hit her like ice water.

The casual dismissal of Cedric's death—calling it "the least interesting thing that happened that day"—sent a surge of rage through her that momentarily overrode her fear.

"You think this is funny?" Karen's voice cracked, but she forced herself to take another step forward. "My brother was seventeen. He had plans, dreams, a future. And you're standing there talking about him like he was—like he was nothing."

Annabelle examined her perfectly manicured nails again, the gesture so deliberately dismissive that it felt like another slap. "I'm not saying it's funny. I'm saying it's irrelevant. Mortals die every day. Your brother just happened to die for slightly more interesting reasons than most."

"Slightly more interesting?" Karen's laugh was hollow, brittle. "He was murdered!"

"Probably," Annabelle agreed with a shrug that conveyed absolute indifference. "But here's the thing you don't seem to understand—your grief? Your need for justice? Your little investigation? None of it matters. You're a bug who learned to use Google, and now you think you understand the cosmos."

Even Elena winced at Annabelle's bluntness, but the blonde teenager continued without pause.

"You want answers? Fine. Your brother saw something he shouldn't have. Someone decided he needed to not exist anymore. End of story. There's no grand conspiracy to uncover, no justice to be served, no satisfaction waiting for you at the end of this little quest."

Karen felt tears burning behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall in front of this spoiled monster. "So that's it? People just get to murder teenagers and there are no consequences?"

"For us?" Annabelle's smile was sharp as broken glass. "Pretty much, yeah. We operate on a different level than you. Your laws, your morality, your entire concept of justice—it's all designed for beings like you. We're not beings like you."

"You're monsters," Karen whispered.

"Maybe," Annabelle said, her tone suggesting she found the observation mildly interesting at best. "But we're monsters with power, which means we get to decide what matters and what doesn't. And your brother? He didn't matter."

The words hung in the air like a physical blow. Karen staggered slightly, as though Annabelle had actually struck her.

"However," Annabelle continued, her voice taking on a slightly more businesslike tone, "someone apparently thinks you matter enough to waste time on. So here we are, playing babysitter to a grieving mortal instead of dealing with actual problems."

"I have evidence," Karen said desperately, clutching her laptop bag tighter. "Digital trails, financial records—"

"That we could erase with a thought," Annabelle interrupted. "Your precious evidence exists because we allow it to exist. Your memories remain intact because someone decided not to delete them. You're breathing because killing you would be more inconvenient than letting you live."

Karen felt the ground shifting beneath her feet—not literally, but the foundation of everything she'd built her investigation on. "You're lying."

"Am I?" Annabelle pulled out her phone—a device that looked like it had been designed in dimensions where technology followed different rules. She tapped the screen a few times with casual ease. "Karen Mitchell, twenty-eight, software engineer at HelixCore. Lives alone in a studio apartment with her brother now at her cousin's, used to drives a 2015 Honda Civic with a cracked windshield, has $2,847 in her checking account and just finished paying her crushing student debt."

Karen's blood ran cold as Annabelle continued.

"Your Netflix password is 'CedricRocks2019,' which is adorably sentimental. You've been surviving on energy drinks and takeout Chinese for three days now. Oh, and we told your boss you had serious flu, so that you can actually use all your sick days to chase this fantasy."

"How do you—"

"Because information is power, and we have all the power," Annabelle said, pocketing her phone. "Your entire life is an open book written in crayon. The only reason you've gotten this far is because someone wanted you to."

Elena shot Annabelle another warning look, but the teenager waved her off dismissively.

"What? She was going to find out eventually. Better to crush her delusions now than let her think she's some kind of digital detective."

Karen's legs felt weak, but she forced herself to remain standing. "If you can do all that, then why am I here? Why haven't you just... made me disappear?"

"Good question," Annabelle mused, as though genuinely considering it for the first time. "Maybe because someone finds your grief amusing. Maybe because Parker likes pets. Or maybe because Elena here has a soft spot for pathetic mortal crusades."

"Annabelle," Elena said sharply, her diplomatic patience finally showing cracks.

"What? I'm being honest. Isn't that what she wanted? The truth?" Annabelle turned back to Karen with that same cruel smile. "Here's your truth, bug. You're here because we're allowing it. Your investigation exists because we're permitting it. And your brother's death? It was probably just Tuesday for whoever killed him."

Karen stared at the teenager, seeing clearly for the first time what she was dealing with. Not just power, but power wielded by someone who had never learned to care about anything beyond her own convenience.

"You really don't give a shit about any of this, do you?" Karen asked quietly.

"Finally," Annabelle said with genuine satisfaction. "You're starting to understand. No, I don't give a shit about your dead brother, your grief, your need for answers, or your pathetic little revenge fantasy. I have actual problems to worry about."

"Then why are you here?"

Annabelle's expression darkened for the first time, a shadow of yesterday's events crossing her features. "Because someone I actually care about asked me to be here. And unlike your brother, that someone actually matters."

The casual cruelty of it should have broken Karen completely. Instead, it crystallized something hard and unbreakable in her chest.

"I'm still not leaving," she said.

Annabelle stared at her for a long moment, then laughed—a sound like silver bells filled with poison.

"You know what? I actually respect that. You're completely fucked, thoroughly outclassed, and absolutely doomed, but you're still standing there. It's almost impressive."

She gestured toward the open gates with theatrical flair.

"Come on then, bug. Let's go meet the monsters."

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