Ch.12002 Work Record – A Fitting Result (2)

The city’s bright lights fade into the distance, leaving only darkness deep enough for the black of my ballistic mask to blend into the surroundings. There’s nothing outside the city. Drive through the wasteland and you’ll only find another city.

There used to be a city in that wasteland too. Not anymore. All that remains now are occasional hollows and automated factories. Standing in such a place would make LA’s air feel refreshing by comparison.

I had to get off before the others, so I was in the passenger seat. Since the passenger compartment was separated from the driver’s seat, the only person I could talk to was Valentina… but she was focused on driving.

Not just ordinary focus. Her artificial eye reflected nothing but the road and the vehicle’s dashboard. She really must be a former street racer. I’d never heard of a street racer who lived a normal life.

As we drove along, I gradually began to notice light coming from Osgard Company’s van. Judging by how it was leaking out, it was coming from the driver’s side window.

I lightly tapped on the wall separating the passenger compartment from the driver’s seat. The boss’s voice came through my earpiece. The moment I saw the light, it was work time. During work, honorifics could be omitted.

This was originally a job for the computational assistance device, but now I had to rely on the neck mic. I placed my hand on my nape to turn it on and spoke.

“Confirmed light leakage ahead. Seems like we’re about to arrive, but it looks like they’re also approaching from the side for an ambush. They’ve probably parked a bit ahead of the expected location.”

“Can’t even manage their lights properly but they’re playing gangster with all style and no substance.” I made sure this muttered comment didn’t go through the microphone. Several drones shot out from the passenger compartment and flew over the dark road.

They returned shortly after. K’s voice came through my earpiece. Unlike usual, he was subdued and not very talkative. You don’t get to rank 46th among 107 companies by sitting around doing nothing.

“Vehicle confirmed. It’s them alright. One guard outside and two office workers inside. I’ll check the operation status too. Just a mooooment…”

Judging by the absence of gunfire, the other side was still working too. I needed to wait until they finished their job before moving. I took a deep breath inside my ballistic mask, keeping my gun pointed away from Valentina.

After waiting about 40 seconds, gunfire erupted from the wasteland. Automatic fire. Soon explosions followed, with return fire pouring from the wasteland. They were shooting like it was some kind of festival.

The exchange continued for a while before the return fire from the wasteland stopped. Osgard’s mercenaries seemed to be finishing off the surrendered gang members with a few more single shots… then communication came through.

“Stefanet confirmed that Osgard has reported mission completion. Offliner, if you think my expectations are too high, now’s your last chance to say so. Your answer?”

“No, sir. I can do it. Cutting communication now and heading out.”

I have to do this. It’s actually fortunate to be assigned such a task. At least the hazard pay will be better than hiding behind Vola, and I can learn to properly use this enhanced body.

I exit through the door Valentina unlocked. With the engine off, a suddenly docile Valentina whispers in a drawling voice as she lowers the bulletproof panel in front of the windshield.

“Come baaack safe, Boogeyman.”

After she says this, the door closes quietly. Communications neither come in nor go out. The sound of my footsteps on the asphalt road isn’t very loud, and gets swallowed by the sound of the wasteland wind howling across the unobstructed terrain.

I didn’t look back, but I could hear the side of the van opening. In the wasteland without even bushes, there was no rustling. The expiration date of the silence was only a few dozen seconds. I approached the van.

The guard K had mentioned was standing half-leaning on the passenger side of the van with the door partially open. This was the light I had seen. Unaware of anyone approaching, he was just chatting with the driver.

“Hey, shouldn’t we hire a few more people? How long do we have to keep doing these odd jobs? We’ve got an office right in the middle of the shopping district, we could filter out the riffraff and with Belwether’s protection plus our back-alley connections… we could be the gatekeepers connecting both sides of Los Angeles. Then we could clean up all these gangs and do proper business. What do you think?”

Not great. I answered internally while placing my finger on the trigger guard and raising the sight to his head. His body was completely exposed from the side and he was even leaning on the door, so at this close range, his head would be an easier target than his body.

I exhaled. I pulled the trigger, and two muffled shots—their direction impossible to determine thanks to the suppressor—blended into the sound of the wasteland wind.

One bullet precisely pierced his upturned mouth corner that seemed to anticipate a bright future, and another went through his temple. He slumped into the window he had been leaning against.

A scream rang out. The reflexive scream turned into a wheezing sound, as if deliberately holding breath, unable to exhale, only inhaling. The sound leaked from the driver’s seat. The controls were frantically being turned.

“E-everyone back to the van! We’re under attack! Some gang or whatever, someone shot Jamie dead! Get back to the van right now…”

The driver seemed to be female. Her voice rang out pitifully. She probably only had a handgun, while I wore a ballistic mask. Now it was time to instill fear.

As I approached the driver’s seat, the back door of the van opened. Someone who had been waiting inside hurriedly grabbed a gun and rushed out, only to lock eyes with me in my ballistic mask. For a moment, he seemed to think I was a hallucination.

But I wasn’t. I grabbed the barrel of the rifle he was carrying, not even ready to fire, and yanked it away, throwing it across the road. He tried to retrieve it using both hands, but it was useless.

While he was drawing his handgun, I raised my gun again and put eight bullets in a straight line from his upper chest—an easy target—to between his eyebrows. He seemed to be wearing body armor, but no helmet.

As Osgard Company’s mercenaries, who had been guarding the perimeter, began hurrying back to the van, gunfire erupted from the wasteland. It was Vola and Ms. Eve.

I deliberately made noise as I walked toward the driver’s seat. I caught the bottom of the bulletproof panel that was starting to lower over the window next to the driver’s seat and gently applied force.

The mechanism trying to lower the panel and my pulling force collided, creating a creaking sound from inside the window… then the bulletproof panel was ripped out, leaving scratch marks on the van’s window.

Through the window, a short-haired driver was pointing a handgun, but this window was also reinforced glass. I clenched my fist. She started speaking again with her hand to her ear.

“Skull mask, black outfit, Belwether carbine with Fitts & Morrison accessories. So, so that means, Belwether must have found out! It’s Belwether Special Ops!”

I let her continue her report as I punched the bulletproof glass window. The bulletproof plastic between the glass layers bent, cracking the connected glass. Now essentially only one layer of plastic remained.

Her diligent report soon turned into screams, and with one more punch, the bulletproof window shattered, leaving a hole. She must have never seen someone break this with just their fists before.

She put down her handgun and raised both hands. Tears flowed from only one eye, as the other was artificial. I reached through the hole, unlocked the door, and opened the van.

I placed my hand on her ear, forcibly turning on her communication. I asked. There was no voice modulation, but none was needed.

“How much protection money did you collect?”

“N-not, not much. It, it was, at most two or three thousand credits…”

“Pay it. In cash.”

Whoever was on the other end of the communication line would know who had come. This was what they had jokingly worried about when starting this business. They had vowed not to end things this way.

And most importantly… the fact they had forgotten while playing gangster under Belwether’s protection. The simple fact that Belwether—the head sheep—hates bad sheep.

“Who, who uses cash these days… I, I can transfer it to your account right away…”

I moved my hand from just touching her ear to completely gripping the side of her head. I let her know this was the appropriate outcome.

“How did you treat those who made such excuses when they failed to pay their protection money?”

I couldn’t give her a second chance. I wasn’t someone great enough to give chances. I was just a regular employee of Nightwatch, a dishonorably discharged Belwether employee, and a mere mercenary.

How could someone like me give people new chances? I didn’t bother with taunting words. The emotional aspect was sufficiently covered by the method of elimination.

Her hands desperately gripped my wrists, but they didn’t shake at all. With her face in my grip, she couldn’t turn her head. Using all the strength of my enhanced body, I smashed her head into the steering wheel.

It made a sound like a traffic accident, and left a sight resembling one. The van’s horn blared continuously, signaling that something was wrong with the driver. I turned the controls and reconnected communications. I spoke to the boss.

“Office workers eliminated. Was that a sufficiently efficient job performance?”

“Mission complete. Makes the back of my neck tingle. I’ll call Belwether’s cleanup team. Come back, Offliner. Perfect job performance.”

We must remember how miserably another mercenary company ended. When I was expelled from Belwether, I was treated with respect as an insider, but if I were to be kicked out of Nightwatch, it would be like this.

I recall Ms. Eve’s words. As she said, it would be better to remain a not-so-bad person. Still wearing my ballistic mask, I returned to the car and was about to get into the passenger seat when Valentina grinned and pointed to the back.

“I put you up front because we needed a Post-Human Type IV’s eyes to catch them, right? The boss is looking for you, Boogeyman. Go to the back. And take care of my share of beer!”

I bumped her outstretched fist with mine, trying to control my strength. It felt like I was being more gentle than she was. Then I opened the back door of the van and got in.

Inside the passenger compartment, heroic tales were already being told. The problem was that it was K speaking, not me.

“I told you! Our Offliner, trying to save a mercenary who owed him, approached two mercenaries without even drawing his gun and then—BAM! ‘I’m Belwether Personnel Management Department Manager So-and-so!’ and kicked those guys in the shins! I knew he’d be perfect for this role! If I hadn’t tipped off the boss about it, he’d still be just following Vola around!”

After boarding the van and removing my ballistic mask and face covering, I let out a hollow laugh. He’s excessive with his boasting and arrogance. But since he’s bragging about others rather than himself, no one minds.

No, wait. That last part was clearly self-praise by anyone’s standards. I decided that while he’s annoying, he’s not annoying enough to be hated.

“None of that is accurate, K… I don’t have any mercenaries who owe me; I once broke the arm of that mercenary’s colleague. Impersonating Belwether staff would be a crime so I didn’t mention affiliation, I didn’t make up a name, I didn’t kick any shins, I just hit their helmeted head once.”

K stomped his foot, but the van didn’t shake. As he was about to spout more words, Vola covered his mouth with her prosthetic hand and shook her head with the quarter of her face that was visible, as if to say “hopeless.”

“Don’t worry. We only believe as much of what K says as my face takes up of my body. Now, Director Yoon.”

The director handed me a can of beer that Mr. Enzo apparently always prepares. Alcohol would be of no help for vigilance… no, it was non-alcoholic. I decided to drop the insincere thoughts. I miss a real, inefficient can of beer.

“Thanks, Vola. The job was perfect. All three targets were eliminated without firing a single shot, and none of them even noticed Arthur approaching. Excellent work.”

That was the end of the job evaluation. Afterward, Director Yoon spoke more casually.

“It’s non-alcoholic beer here, but let’s have a proper drink when we get back and put away the equipment. How about it? We can do the job review tomorrow.”

Everyone’s gaze naturally turned to Mr. Enzo. He closed his eyes briefly, seemingly calculating credits, then spoke as if uncomfortable with everyone’s stares.

“With the elimination job bonus, that, if you ca-, calculate it… we could have five or six company dinners and still have money left, so don’t wo-, worry…”

Let’s pretend I finally listened to the security manager’s advice to go out and have a synthetic ale. Hearing that made even the non-alcoholic beer seem somewhat drinkable. The van turned around and headed back toward the city.

Vola just nodded while K built walls of words with her audio sensors turned off, while Mr. Enzo and the director were still talking business. Ms. Eve remained tight-lipped.

Just as I was thinking the passenger seat might be better, Ms. Eve, sitting next to me, quietly turned to me and spoke. Her voice was cold as always.

“Arthur.”

I straightened my relaxed posture and looked at her. With our significant height difference, sitting a bit more casually actually made it easier to meet her eyes.

“Ah, yes, senior.”

“What did you kill back there?”

I wasn’t sure what answer she was looking for, so I decided to be honest. They were people. People who made wrong choices. It wasn’t that the choices were wrong. It was the people who made those choices who were wrong.

“People. People who made wrong choices.”

An expression that could have been relief or displeasure crossed Ms. Eve’s face. Maybe both. She quietly spoke again.

“You’re honest. And composed.”

I thought she would say more, but she just quietly checked the safety on her gun again before leaning it beside her and making herself a bit more comfortable. Did I answer well? I couldn’t tell.

We returned to the office and eased the aftermath of the job with fast food—synthetic but quite edible with beer—and drinks. Perhaps because tomorrow was a day off, everyone seemed a bit more relaxed.

K left early, saying hackers have work even at dawn, but the office didn’t feel quiet, so it must have been a pretty good time.

It was a bit disappointing that the person who seemed like they would enjoy such gatherings the most left first, and for such a boring reason as having work to do.

Nightwatch didn’t rest on weekends. Weekends were actually the busiest times. Days off were Wednesdays and Thursdays. I wondered if the busiest days had the fewest incidents, but it was just that the 107 partner companies took turns resting.

Still, in the mercenary industry, having two consecutive days off as a pseudo-weekend and guaranteed holidays was considered sweet.

The casual drinking session ended around 3 AM. We hadn’t gathered at a fancy bar with a skilled bartender drinking exceptional whiskey, but it was decent enough.

With the comment that trash disposal could be left to the newcomer, I went out for some fresh air and threw the garbage bag into the large trash can beside the building. As I turned around… there was someone I hadn’t expected at all.

It was Ms. Eve. The moonlight was halved and halved again by the smog-filled air, but her deep blue hair was not difficult to recognize. She spoke quietly again.

“What do you hate, Arthur? Just… curious.”

It would be hard to find someone who matched the word “just” less than her. I thought for a moment but decided to answer honestly again.

“Probably the guys who played a part in making my resume look so ridiculous. You know those people who go around saying natural humans are beautiful? But I still don’t know much, so I plan to investigate and find out the reason. What happened to me… I can’t talk about it, but it was absurd. I don’t want to carry it for the rest of my life, so I need to start looking into it tomorrow. It’s a day off, after all.”

She pondered my answer for a moment. Exactly seven seconds. The silence ended there.

“Need help with the investigation? I can assist if you want.”

I gave an equally sudden answer to her sudden question.

“Um… honestly, I don’t understand why. We’ll probably just go in circles.”

“That’s okay. Again, I’m just curious. If you don’t want to, I won’t ask again. It’s personal.”

It was the first time since leaving the company that I’d met someone willing to step into someone else’s personal matters. For others, the hint that my employment records at Belwether had been completely erased for some reason was enough.

So I decided to chalk it up to curiosity too. I chose my words a bit carefully, but my usual friendly response came out in the end.

“Alright. Two is better than one, right?”

She shrugged slightly as if to say “who knows.” The corners of her mouth turned up about half a centimeter in a smile—the third display of emotion I’d seen from her after touching her forehead and that same slight smile.

“There are people in this world who should be alone and not drag others in, Arthur.”

“Um… you’re not offering to help with my personal business because you’re worried I might drag others in, are you?”

Ms. Eve shook her head, again raising just the right corner of her mouth by half a centimeter.

“Not at all. Even I can see you’re a trustworthy person. Probably.”

It seemed my first day off wouldn’t be lonely or quiet, as long as I wasn’t being treated like a child. That’s good.