Ch.119Work Record 018 – Headhunting (8)

After exiting the building, I pick up the gun I had thrown. It was an ordinary Farmers Company standard pistol. All I’d done was repaint it black and embed a skull-shaped Madonna on the grip.

I removed the magazine and handed it over as evidence. Small Evil was a useful item, even if it wasn’t just a small evil deed. A pistol for full-body cyborgs used by the Special Operations Division. In contrast, Jeffrey’s gun was just a standard issue pistol.

The area around the villa echoes with the sound of Vola jumping down with an ammunition bag on her back. She approaches me after detaching the reddened barrel of her machine gun and playfully pushes my shoulder with her full-body cyborg fist.

I don’t budge. A playful punch is just a playful punch. She outputs a laughing sound and says:

“When you started firing that grenade rifle, even the Mobile Division guys on my side got scared, man. You should’ve been gentler when working with those meat bags.”

In return, I push Vola’s forearm once. She doesn’t budge either. As Mr. James said, it was a well-made full-body cyborg. Especially if it was custom-assembled.

“I don’t think someone who fired so enthusiastically that they need to replace their barrel should be talking. You should have been gentler when working with the meat bags.”

“Oh, really? I heard someone beat a fugitive to death without even using a gun. Know anything about that?”

The communication channel was definitely open even while I was dealing with Jeffrey. I just shrugged briefly and answered jokingly:

“There might be some omissions, but since he died hitting the floor while coming down from the attic, let’s call it an accidental fall.”

“Not bad. Next time I need to beat a meat bag to death, I’ll use that excuse.”

“Ah, really. Will you?”

Vola might be violent during operations, but she wasn’t like that normally. She would even light up her eyes when looking at Mr. James, as if hoping he would evaluate her full-body cyborg.

So I didn’t particularly doubt her. When we first met, she knocked down a Jaina member because she knew what I was wearing and was talking about the goodness of pure humans to that machine-like body.

The cleanup team is called. And even before they swarm in, gangs and cheap criminals begin to gather from other ruins in the area.

The ideological undertakers wear quite good equipment and implants. Still, this was a job directly handled by Belwether, and the cleanup team would be coming, so they couldn’t take anything.

Yet they sit around waiting. After the cleanup team leaves, they hope to salvage something from under the collapsed debris of the building that smells of bleach.

Since only those with criminal records but not currently caught in the act were poking their heads out, we didn’t fire immediately. They didn’t try to confront Belwether either.

The reason for calling the cleanup team was because of those creatures, and their work was recognized because of them. It was better not to have humans who stuff other people’s implants into their bodies and go berserk with phantom pain and madness.

Among that crowd, someone starts climbing over the villa fence. Their face shows confusion as to why everyone is just watching. They must be new to Belwether’s city. The iron fence wasn’t that high.

I draw Small Evil again, which still had bullets left since I didn’t shoot Jeffrey. After turning the selector to single shot, I ask the Mobile Division chief:

“The warning message is displayed, right?”

I could already see the warning message in my field of vision. A notification window showing this was Belwether Company Los Angeles Branch Security Team Mobile Division’s operational area was up. I was just asking to confirm.

“Leave it. Harrier Four, how can you be slower at figuring out what needs to be done than a partner company employee? Handle it.”

Hearing those words, I turn the selector back to safety. With a “Will correct it, sir” from one of the Mobile Division members wearing thin reinforced clothing, the intruder was corrected. The cleanup team’s work would increase.

None of the spectators cared about that death. They just clicked their tongues at the additional equipment and implants they couldn’t take. Everyone boards the van, and the van leaves the ruins.

Since this was an official Belwether operation, the cleanup team arrived quickly. It seemed much faster than when I called them with freelancer authority while working with Kanun Company last time. The armored van returns to the office.

This time, there was a bullet embedded in the van’s armor plating. Tina, who got out of the car and examined the armored van’s exterior, clicked her tongue.

“Whoever it waas, they shot well… Vola, help me replace the armor plate.”

Since we properly used the car as cover during this operation, there were quite a few bullet marks. The armor plate with bullets embedded in it is pulled out by Vola’s hands, and inserting a new armor plate stored in the vehicle completes the job.

Still, not even a scratch on the vehicle body. That’s why it’s important to make them open the door directly when neutralizing a van. The van’s protection itself was flawless. Only human judgment is imperfect.

A brief paperwork session follows. Since it was work with Belwether, I had to bill for the bullets used, in my case the grenade usage cost, and also create reports to send to the personnel management team.

Usually, Boss Yoon and Mr. Enzo would handle this, but right now the boss was meeting with Ms. Mila. Probably an interview. It was a bit strange, but she had skills and remained calm in the field.

Even after finishing all the paperwork while glancing at the interview, it was still morning. About 12 days left until Christmas, and after that, I would need to visit Heroism and Hope Company. The only thing to do was more training.

I access the old training program with the E-Enter logo again. I entered Small Evil’s serial number, but true to the company that disappeared in a merger, it couldn’t find it.

In the end, I decided to enter new values with Chance’s help. Small Evil enters the virtual reality that’s still stuck in the time when E-Enter went bankrupt 10 years ago. The feel itself was similar.

This training was an application of the first day. Dummies begin to appear, and an uncomfortably strong flash erupts. As my vision turns white, I adjust by lowering my anti-flash eyelids and controlling my pupils.

The afterimage disappears quickly. It would be better to make the reaction speed faster. Type IV works well only when I judge and move. I need to give commands well enough to keep up with Type IV.

I reflexively reduce noise. The same goes for foul odors or gases that make breathing difficult. Considering it even accounts for oxygen deprivation situations makes me wonder what kind of company they were.

Activating the life support device just under a layer of skin at the back of my neck to flow preservative into my body makes it bearable for a while. It’s only a temporary measure, but all I need to do is escape during that temporary period.

Of course, it wasn’t actually operating. I knew what it felt like when it actually operated. I didn’t want to know, but since I did, I had to use it. I consciously recall the tingling, pulling sensation at the back of my neck.

My hands didn’t shake. It wasn’t a bioengineered monstrosity, it was Adrian Goodman. I just personally ended him. I’ve never been afraid of people.

With each training program completed, the situation becomes more adverse. It makes me wonder if such training is really necessary.

I can breathe in the neurotoxic gas that Belwether often uses, but I should avoid asphyxiants. It meant I should notice when my senses become extremely sensitive before it’s too late.

Fortunately, I have a little more time than ordinary people. Still, I couldn’t hold something that damages even gas mask filters for long. This is why a closed reinforced suit is necessary.

Of course, H-Enter won’t go this far. Their city is a staged place. While they can’t direct every single action people take, they can at least restrict the types of weapons used.

After all, they’re entertainment industry people who have experienced corporate wars as a daily occurrence, so that part should be trustworthy. It wasn’t an industry where bad and stupid people could survive.

Today, after completing nearly 8 hours of virtual reality training, I walk out. Since it was the same schedule as when I attended school, I wasn’t tired, and today, eliminating the undertakers was essentially the official work.

And so, this week that started from Friday was mostly peaceful again. No major incidents, no major crimes. Because the whales were glaring at each other.

For the world to function properly, there needs to be at least one day of hope in a year. Farmers Company was a company that wanted to give that hope, and Belwether was a company that only cared about efficiency, whether it was hope or whatever.

At the very least, staged hope is more helpful to efficiency than the rampant crime at the end of the year. So if someone tries to ruin this joyful year-end atmosphere, Belwether will gladly become the sacrificial lamb.

Of course, there was more work than usual on the freelancer network. Despite much more ominous jobs than the usual investigations, they were all taken while I was reading and reviewing them.

What I learned was that “Legal Assassination Team Assistant” jobs are essentially assassination requests. “Security Team Assistant” means taking preventive measures.

Since I had no intention of taking such jobs, I review a request to investigate an android belonging to the Non-Human Liberation Front roaming around Los Angeles.

It was partly because K came to mind. And the target was indeed that android I had received a business card from. While I was considering whether to accept the request, a communication came through the freelancer network.

I just nod slightly to connect. On the other end, I heard a somewhat irritable and annoyed woman’s voice.

“Good afternoon, rookie freelancer. Seems like you’re trying to find a pearl in this ungraceful request market due to the year-end, just like me. If you don’t have any particular reason, I’d like to collaborate.”

From Belwether’s new employee to Nightwatch’s new employee, and now a rookie freelancer. I brought up the other person’s freelancer license in my field of vision. A 4-year freelance mercenary.

Her short white hair, short enough to reveal her ears, was optical fiber hair. Due to the gray eyes glaring at the screen, she appeared quite monochromatic. Though she seemed to have her own distinct color.

The body she wore was Perun Series Type 3, Anya for short, Antonina Petroff, which came up when talking with Robin last time. If it’s Petroff, could it be Petroff from Petroff Company that made Perun? It’s probably a common surname.

It was Farmers Company, not Petroff Company, that gifted her the freelance contract right. If she’s from a corporate aristocracy where management rights are inherited and a company other than Petroff Company authorized it, then it’s a personal matter.

If she’s just one of the ordinary people using the common name Petroff, and I mistakenly ask, “Are you that Petroff from Petroff Company?” it would be a stupid question. Better to remain silent.

“Just take it. As Anya said, I’m just a rookie freelancer reviewing work. I also have a job I’ve already accepted, so it would be troublesome if this one drags on.”

“You’re quite relaxed for a rookie. Good skills for a newbie. Well then, I’ll gratefully accept this job that won’t require bloodying my hands on Christmas… but you have something to ask, don’t you? Ask away.”

“Can you see who’s reading the request?”

“Of course. If you click on the view count of the request, you can see the list of freelancers currently reviewing it… Wait, are you messing with me?”

As she said, when I clicked on the view count part of the virtual screen with the request, a window popped up showing that 4 people were currently reviewing it.

The freelancer network has been used for quite a long time, so it has about as much convenience as real ingredients in convenience store food, and is overflowing with hidden functions and inefficiencies.

I play dumb in response to her somewhat overbearing voice.

“The network is so old that it’s full of hidden functions. It was a genuinely useful question for me. If you want to tell me whether Petroff is from Petroff Company, I’ll listen.”

“I meant I’d tolerate your rudeness, not that I wanted to tell you. It would be strange not to say anything after saying we’re done here… Detective work might actually suit you better, rookie.”

“Even a corporate aristocrat’s daughter with inherited management rights can’t get a freelance contract right for free. Having no aptitude and having no ability are different things.”

My case was somewhat exceptional. I declined an offer to come directly to headquarters from Mr. Gunter, and received a freelancer license as an alternative.

Still, even if not me… at the very least, one would need to cover up a megacorporation’s shame in one place and instill enough trust not to be discarded like a used tool to receive a freelance contract right.

“That’s stating the obvious. And yes, you’re right. I’m one of the succession rights holders of Petroff Company. Though I’m like 76th or 77th in line. Can you imagine how many people have tried to get this answer from me ‘naturally’?”

Judging by the emphasis in her voice, she’s being sarcastic. Leaning against the bed, I don’t bother holding back my laughter as I speak.

“It might be a common surname, but you’re even wearing a Perun Series, so it makes sense. But 77th place means…”

“My grandfather is paranoid, that’s all. Ever since that war when he stood on the highway outside the city and saw it get crushed in an instant. That’s why everyone’s a succession heir to him.”

The connection between “city” and “crushed” sounded like a grammatical error. If it wasn’t about that war, it would indeed be a grammatical error. She made a sound like she was biting her lip.

“I got carried away again. Look at me making stupid self-introductions. Usually, I only say this to those who insistently ask, just to tell them to get lost after they’ve heard it all…”

“You said detective work suits me, didn’t you? Anyway, seeing how comfortably you’re talking, I’m guessing this isn’t red information, is it?”

Since I’ve learned something, I’ll share one thing. I throw the term “red information” as bait, and enjoyably listen as she takes it, as expected.

“Red information. That’s what Belwether people use. Yeah, the instability of Petroff Company’s succession rights is something you can find with just a minute of searching. It’s wise to ditch the succession rights early like me and start a new job using family connections.”

“The term ‘red information’ wouldn’t take even a minute. As you can see from my freelancer license, I’m in a position where nothing is visible. I thought I should share at least one thing to be fair.”

She let out a hollow laugh as if she had just properly checked my license.

“That’s true. ‘Censored,’ ‘None,’ ‘Deleted.’ Even ‘Proficient’ is paired with nothing. What are you exactly? A sixty-year-old Special Ops agent living in a twenty-year-old body as a retirement benefit?”

“Everyone asks the same thing. Anyway, I thought we should have this level of conversation if I want to ask you to call me when you need help in the future.”

“You keep drawing me in but don’t cross the line. Alright, freelancer. I definitely won’t forget. Contact me after you finish the job you already have.”

Five days left until Christmas. Heroism and Hope Entertainment was still introducing new roles as silhouettes, and Ms. Serena had found someone to help protect the city she loves.

Nightwatch gained a new employee, and I caught a coincidence to make a freelancer connection. Except for Jeffrey, everyone got what they wanted. It was a pleasant outcome.