Ch.125Work Record 020 – Cyberpunk Action Drama (1)

Unfortunately, it seemed I wouldn’t be able to spend Christmas Eve with Ms. Eve. She was the one leading the Hollow Creek escapees who had made their way to Los Angeles.

The presence of inquisitors roaming around Los Angeles shouting slogans made the Creek escapees anxious. And she knew all too well what kind of mistakes anxiety could lead to.

Perhaps holding the party at noon was a considerate gesture. Now that they had their own lives to live, they could spend a leisurely Christmas morning with Belvedere and the returned children, then spend the evening living the life they had found for themselves.

Everyone exchanged warm greetings, and after Mr. Robin hugged each person, they all went out through the side to avoid the broken glass of the main entrance. The air was fresh, the day was pleasant, and the inquisitors had been eliminated.

When Ms. Eve returned to the night shift office, she headed straight for the changing room. After taking off the rented party dress and changing back into her usual attire, she immediately picked up her helmet.

We were people who didn’t need many words between us. I had seen the Creek escapees she protected, and I had seen what state they were in.

A brief hug and letting go was all we could manage; even kissing in front of all the colleagues would have been too much for her, so we simply touched foreheads briefly as a form of greeting.

“Call me if you need anything. I’m a freelance inquisitor extermination specialist, after all.”

Ms. Eve giggled at my silly joke, then rose on her tiptoes again to briefly rub her forehead against mine before pulling away. After fixing her slightly disheveled blue bangs, she waved goodbye.

Only after she left did President Yoon click his tongue with a displeased expression. His voice sounded like he was ready to chew someone up and swallow them whole.

“I don’t understand how a company that barely qualifies as a mega-corporation with just one city under its control can create so many suffering people. Terrible inefficients, the lot of them.”

Though I no longer fully agreed with Belvedere’s principles, I could agree with that statement. And as always, all inefficients had to be slaughtered. And I would do just that.

President Yoon sighed deeply, as if somewhat relieved, and looked in my direction. His expression was gentle.

“I probably shouldn’t say this, but I think it’s fortunate that you came here after your dishonorable discharge, Arthur. I apologize if that offends you.”

“Not at all, I agree. It’s quite enjoyable to see the people around me taking steps forward because of my efforts, and such efforts are indeed more needed outside of Belvedere.”

President Yoon let out a short laugh. I heard once again what I often heard.

“I thought people like you had run out of stock after that war. Ah, I mean good people, as you know.”

“I’m not that good of a person. Someone who beats criminals to death and doesn’t hesitate to fire assault rifles into crowds of people, even if they’re criminals… might be efficient, but not exactly good.”

I was a person who enjoyed pleasant things. That’s how I decided to define myself. Truly good people had enough warmth to share with everyone. I didn’t.

I barely had enough to share with good people, so I cut off the portions meant for the unqualified, the inefficients, and the terrible ones, and even drew from that to make ends meet.

“In this city that reeks of divinity, you’re probably the only one setting the standard for a good person that high. Ah, do you have plans for the evening? My ex-husband who works at Changcheon wants to meet you.”

An employee of Changcheon Robotics. They were even harder to find than Belvedere’s inefficients. There were even rumors that they ran their branch offices entirely with drones, without a single human.

As I was about to accept, the logo of Heroism & Hope appeared in the corner of my vision. An urgent message had arrived. Ah, a life without holidays.

“If I just received an urgent message from a client, would that count as a prior engagement?”

“Even if you had a prior engagement, that would take precedence. When was your return to duty? You said two weeks from the 27th… so January 10th. I wish you a safe mission.”

“I hope the mercenaries sent by Heroism & Hope are decent too. Have a safe new year.”

After exchanging typical security team greetings—hoping for an absence of bad things rather than the presence of good ones—I left the office and connected with the Heroism & Hope representative. I spoke only inside my mouth.

‘I suppose the costume is finished? I was only seeing silhouette advertisements until yesterday.’

“Ah, yes. The issue was that when we tried to make it black, it didn’t show up well on screen. Given the feeling we want from you, Arthur, other colors wouldn’t seem to fit…”

Once again, everything becomes shallow. Real-life stories turn into dramas and character narratives. I shrugged my shoulders at nothing in particular before responding.

‘I assume you want me to come try it on?’

“Of course. If you can come right now, I’ll send you the hotel address. Ms. Serena is also waiting with her prosthetic body, and one more person will be there… someone from our side. A human resources representative.”

‘I can certainly come. Please send it.’

I went home and changed into a suit, but didn’t remove the artificial skin on the back of my hand, which looked decent enough. After leaving my suit’s maintenance to Chance, I headed to the hotel on the bike I had parked next to the charger.

Going to a hotel to receive a mission. I didn’t feel too bad about it. After leaving my bike with the hotel, I presented my freelancer license and entered. This was, after all, a business meeting.

When I reached the room I had been contacted about, the door opened naturally. Inside were Serena’s stand-in android, that gloomy Heroism & Hope Entertainment representative I had met before, and… what looked like a murder scene.

There was a male body sprawled out with the back of the head—where the brain storage would be attached—missing, and a female body sitting on the sofa with the same part of the head missing.

Next to them sat a woman in a body with the brain storage connected. The body sprawled on the sofa was blonde, while the body she was currently wearing had black hair.

After I stared blankly for a moment, she struggled to pick up the body on the floor, placed it on the sofa, then walked over to me and extended her hand.

“I apologize. I was called here urgently and left my work body behind… this is better than blonde, right?”

A work body, she called it. Even I thought it was a bit excessive to live by swapping brain storage units with bodies designated for specific purposes. I didn’t show it on my face.

“It does look more professional. I’m the freelance mercenary contracted for security.”

“Ah. I’m someone who understands practical matters, so speak freely. And, Samuel, with his build, he’d look good in just about anything we put him in. Why did you call me here too?”

She boldly looked me up and down, then tilted her head. She lightly poked my forearm, then shuddered as if finding the impact absorption characteristic of my reinforced body strange.

The quietly seated, somewhat gloomy Heroism & Hope representative slowly rose and spoke. His voice carried weight.

“If that mercenary doesn’t deliver results, we’d be better off taking a two-week broadcast hiatus and deploying the security team to clean up all the criminals we’ve purchased. Are you in a position to question the company’s intentions?”

People who have been in the entertainment industry for a long time exude this unique gloomy aura. They seemed damaged in some corner of their being, having seen and shown too many deaths.

Even the HR representative responded with a rigid attention stance and a stiff “No, sir” to that statement. She went to the back and returned with two suits. One was at least clothing; the other, not so much.

The matte full-body tights were at least similar to combat suit liners or reinforcement suit undergarments, so I was familiar with them, but the tactical pants with gaiters and knee protectors that went over them were not something I could look upon favorably.

There were at least three unnecessary straps, the belt buckle was metallic enough to shine, and the knee protectors were glossy black. Without sighing, I said:

“Unless you want to advertise ‘Here are my knees and pelvis,’ you’d be better off changing the belt and knee protectors to matte as well. Why are only these parts glossy?”

“Without some glossy parts for contrast, it would be difficult to track your position when moving in dark places. In that case, we’d have no choice but to set your battlegrounds primarily in bright locations.”

Right. This is entertainment. It has to look good. I put down the knee protectors for now, but not the belt buckle.

“Still, wearing something like this doesn’t seem to match the concept. I thought the concept was supposed to be a ruthless bounty hunter. This is the kind of thing cowboys wear.”

He thought for a moment, then finally nodded. I received a new belt with only reinforced plastic connectors for fastening, without a proper buckle. This was definitely better.

Unlike the lower body with its various attachments, the upper body had no significant armor. The only protection was armor plates inside the tights that seemed to mimic muscle structure.

With my skin, the bulletproof fiber tights, and this level of armor plating, it would certainly provide enough protection against small-caliber firearms… but right, this is entertainment. I should be satisfied with this much practicality.

The HR representative watched me pressing on the armor plates and asked briefly. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to this entertainment industry style of conversation.

“He already has a good build, but won’t he look too bulky with those on? Should we bring armor plates with less curvature?”

“Will they hinder movement? Viewers will see roughly this appearance anyway. That’s why Serena deliberately wears oversized reinforcement suits.”

A hologram projector activated and played Serena’s screen test footage. Since they needed to safely film gunfights, the camera distance wasn’t particularly close.

Even Serena’s bulky pink reinforcement suit didn’t look that cumbersome. Is it uncomfortable to move in? I tried moving slowly with it against my body, but found that the armor plates collided with each other in several places.

“It would be uncomfortable. Something with less curvature would be better.”

A second set of bulletproof fabric liners was prepared. This one had considerably less exaggeration. I went into the hotel bedroom to change quickly, then put on the tactical pants over it.

Whatever aesthetic they were going for, it was at least comfortable to move in. The flexible armor plates made me look bulkier too. I put on the bulletproof fabric mask and bulletproof mask, then covered it with a fairly dense sniper’s veil.

If nothing else, it would definitely conceal my face. Would it stay in place during intense movement? The friction seemed decent, but I couldn’t be certain.

There was no major issue with visibility. The Heroism & Hope representative scrutinized my appearance carefully, then muttered:

“This gives more of an agile impression than a heavy, powerful one… Ah, I assume you’ve at least skimmed through the training program we sent you?”

“Skimmed through it? I was locked away with it for 8 hours every day. A mercenary wouldn’t fail to prepare thoroughly for a mission.”

This time, the Heroism & Hope representative looked at me with an expression of incomprehension. We were strange people to each other.

“How did you manage to do that for 8 hours a day… Could you show us something?”

I connected to the virtual reality interface he had prepared, with three spectators, and drew a high-frequency blade. It was of a completely different quality than what I had used in the training program.

It’s natural that a program from ten years ago would have ten-year-old high-frequency blades, but the difference was quite significant. Still, I had definitely mastered the sensation of cutting through people with it.

And finally, one of the best close-combat weapons was placed in my hands. It was a submachine gun. There were two sixty-round drum magazines, and the Type 4 I was wearing was capable of sufficient recoil control.

The Heroism & Hope representative began creating dummies. Since my entire body was covered in armor plates, I deliberately moved more boldly, taking pistol rounds to the body that I would normally have avoided.

Where I would normally have taken cover and dealt with targets one by one, I rushed in, swept through with the submachine gun, and kicked one into a window frame, breaking its back and killing it. A voice spoke in my head.

“Your combat ability is incomparably excellent, but we are in the entertainment industry. We give people what they want, whatever that may be. Show us a performance.”

As another dummy appeared out of thin air, I drew the high-frequency blade that had been merely hanging at my waist as a secondary weapon and impaled it. The voice spoke again.

“Not enough. Serena is the type of character who legally arrests criminals and only kills when necessary. She’s a person of common sense, an ordinary person. Arthur, you need to be different.”

Passion and enthusiasm began to rise in his voice. Perhaps he was reacting this way because the efficiency of the random mercenary they hired was better than he had expected.

“Since you’re not an actor we’ve trained, you don’t need to always show such a performance, but I see potential. Show us a performance, at least when it’s needed. Something superhuman, something overwhelming.”

Something superhuman and overwhelming. Why would a superhuman use a sword? I decided to set aside such fundamental questions. At the very least, a sword that requires large body movements would look more impressive than simply pulling a trigger once to kill.

I breathe in the air of the entertainment industry. When killing someone, stabbing is more advantageous than slashing. But this isn’t about advantage. It’s about pleasure.

I grip the high-frequency blade in one hand and gradually feed power into it. Due to the vibration, the blade appears to ripple gently. I held the high-frequency blade only in my right hand.

The Type 4 I was wearing could move at a speed that my artificial eyes couldn’t track, if only for a brief moment. I lightly tensed my muscles, partially replaced with metal coils, and lunged forward as if springing.

Approaching at a speed too fast for the eye to follow, I slashed upward in a large diagonal from the left hip. The vibration was so smooth that it felt almost like licking with a tongue.

It was probably one of the most inefficient movements I’d ever performed in my life. Why not slash downward? Why not hold it with both hands? No, why use a sword at all when I have a gun? There were many questions.

Heroism & Hope had an answer to that. What people want is to see the inefficiency of movements overcome by the performance of an enhanced body. That’s what they believed.

Only then did the Heroism & Hope representative make a sound of delight. I could understand it, but empathizing with the entertainment industry seemed like a distant prospect.

“Excellent performance. Good. Very good. The appearance of the second suit won’t matter much. It’s an active camouflage suit with cameras. We’re planning to do a horror episode as well.”

It was becoming increasingly clear that this was a job I would never have accepted if hunting criminals wasn’t the objective. I reminded myself again.

This isn’t about appearing in some ridiculous end-of-century action drama; it’s about protecting the city Serena loves. That’s why I took this job. Nothing more.