Ch.129

As soon as the next morning dawned, I changed into my costume. The sensation of the not-so-soft bulletproof fabric tightly wrapping around my body felt awkward, but not unpleasant.

The tactical pants still had useless accessories dangling all over them, but they didn’t hinder movement. Given the nature of this job, I didn’t wear the veil, covering my face only with a film-coated bulletproof mask.

Over the upper body armor that normally had nothing additional attached, I put on a flammable hoodie and a jacket made not from clothing fabric but the kind used for making fuses.

There wouldn’t be time to show myself dramatically removing clothes to reveal the costume on camera. It would be more impressive for the clothes to burn away, revealing the Gardner underneath.

I secured the ignition device to one of the unnecessarily numerous straps on the tactical pants. I had to remember: everything was within camera angle. I knew what Heroism & Hope’s unmanned cameras looked like.

I’d been told that the cameras would handle the angles themselves and all I needed to do was proceed as usual, but I couldn’t help feeling nervous. I gazed out at the city from the penthouse.

Unlike the gray tones of the storm clouds, the city was vibrant with excitement for the new character’s debut. I could see Gardner’s teaser videos playing on every billboard. I grabbed the high-frequency blade.

There was also a pistol, but it was just an ordinary weapon with at most thirteen rounds. It seemed they wanted me to acquire better firearms from enemies if I needed them. If my body wasn’t Type 4, my lifespan would have been shortened.

I pulled up the hood to hide my face. The sniper veil underneath would be faintly visible, but it would blend in somehow. Serena’s android approached me after I finished changing.

“That costume suits you well, must be your good build. Looks like you’re all ready for Episode 1 filming.”

I just nodded slightly. Her android made a few gasping sounds and then nodded.

“Good. Gardner isn’t a character who speaks much. Inside the costume, you should forget your usual self. Of course, since you’re not that type of person, Mr. Arthur…”

A hologram window appeared above the android’s palm. It showed Serena’s lower body being cultivated in a tank, with her hand covering the upper part of the tank. I cleared my throat.

This time she was looking for Arthur, not Gardner, so I needed to respond. And something that required throat-clearing needed to be communicated verbally.

“If you’re trying to cover up, you should move your hand lower. Anyway, I’m glad the cultivation seems to be going well. When are you planning the surgery?”

She maintained a composed expression as she lowered her hand, but it slipped in her nervousness, making a squeaking sound against the outside of the tank. She cleared her throat in response and said:

“Soon. It shouldn’t be a major issue since it’s just attaching the remaining upper body to the newly made lower body… In the meantime, everyone will be talking about Gardner, so no one will pay attention.”

Should I consider this some kind of smoke screen operation? If so, my doing a good job would benefit Serena as well. I nodded lightly.

“A clean shoot for episode one would give you some recovery time. Well then… preset, Gardner.”

I activated the voice modulator that disguised my identity. A voice closer to special operations than human rang out, mixed with static.

“Call sign Gardner, mission deployment confirmed.”

“The voice matches quite well with the costume. I’m a bit envious. You have no idea how stressful it is to put on an affected voice that wasn’t even intended.”

Feeling like I somewhat understood, I patted the android’s shoulder before picking up the bag containing two high-frequency blades and heading for the elevator. The press conference was inside the corporate building.

Ordinary criminals wouldn’t venture into a major corporation’s inner sanctum no matter how good the opportunity, but this was the entertainment industry. In this world, anything goes if it gets you noticed.

From the extras’ perspective, they’d rather try their luck in a corporate headquarters than fill out a month and die from addiction. The elevator slowly descended, stopping once at the electrical room.

No one got on, but my role among Detroit’s criminals this time was to deliver a list of criminal press attendees to the security team.

Of course, I hadn’t delivered anything. Heroism & Hope already knew they were coming and had removed their names and faces from the security system long ago.

A moment later, the doors opened at the lobby floor. Regulars and extras in minimally dressed attire with temporary access badges entered the elevator. A Regular glanced at me and said:

“Take off the mask, punk. In Detroit, getting caught by cops and showing your face is most important. I won’t stop you if you want to die in a month… Did you deliver to security?”

I nodded slightly. Is this considered simple in this city? He stared at me, clicked his tongue, and continued:

“The silent badass concept went out of style a while ago, punk. You think we spent all that time watching H-Entertainment broadcasts for nothing, trying to figure out what works? Only someone who doesn’t value their life tries that shit.”

I shrugged, and he didn’t say anything more. Was there some kind of kinship? I formed a hypothesis in my mind. He picked the wrong person to show kinship with. Probably.

I wanted to deactivate the preset and give him a retort, but I didn’t. The elevator CCTV was recording. The elevator went back up, stopped, and I followed the Regular to the press conference room.

The important thing was not to stand out. I was here to blend in naturally, not to gamble with my life. I sat down among the criminals disguised as journalists. The Regular sat in front of me.

Soon, the hologram projector on the podium activated, and a hologram resembling an office worker walked out. It began outputting its prepared speech while looking toward the gathered journalists.

“On behalf of Heroism & Hope, I thank all the journalists who have come here today. Call sign Gardner will enter from over there. We thought the weather would complement his entrance background nicely.”

He pointed to a helipad that extended from the building like a branch, visible through the curtain wall. It wasn’t exactly an ideal spot for a helicopter to land.

However, a few worried murmurs began to escape from among the extras. They noticed that the cameras waiting at the scene were filming cameras, not news cameras.

“Do you think H-Entertainment already knows we’re not real journalists? Those are clearly Serena’s filming cameras. This seems…”

The murmuring almost spread, but the Regular in front of me raised a detonator and spoke. This wasn’t the time. Now was the time to enjoy the anxiety.

“That’s even better. It means they’ll have all eyes focused here. Could there be a better opportunity for extras to get noticed? Just kill them as soon as they get off the helicopter.”

The Regulars would earn their escape tickets, and new Regulars would emerge. Still, more criminals wouldn’t benefit Heroism & Hope. I could hear the sounds of weapons being assembled from parts.

They should have known those wouldn’t have passed security screening. After waiting a bit longer, a helicopter arrived. Zooming in, I confirmed it was unmanned.

The door of the arrived helicopter opened, but no one came out. They were beginning to realize that no one had been aboard in the first place. The murmuring was turning into panic.

Naturally, the Regular raised his detonator again and spoke. I lowered my body slightly, preparing to stand up. I would use his barking as my signal.

“Shut up! There are more Regulars and extras who came in as cleaning contractors! The plan is fucked, but if we can somehow show ourselves well here…”

Still crouched, I took out the ignition device secured to my thigh and stood up. I grabbed his hand holding the detonator and squeezed it with crushing force. His fingers accidentally pressed the detonator button.

The explosive in his head was just enough to fit in a single bullet. Rather than a “bang,” a meatier “thud” sound rang out, like a firecracker exploding inside a chunk of meat.

The cameras opened their eyes greedily. I scraped my palm with the ignition device, creating sparks in front of the criminal who was screaming from his crushed hand. The flammable clothes caught fire easily.

The sniper veil drooped. Through the grid pattern, my eyes behind the black film of my mask met his. He quickly realized the only way to survive this situation.

He raised the pistol he had just assembled. He aimed the barrel at my head. Just a pistol. In my head, I heard the voice of the H-Entertainment handler:

“Let him pull the trigger. The bulletproof mask and your Type 4 body will barely even register the impact.”

I remained still as he instructed. The gunshot rang out, and the bullet slid off the armor plate in my bulletproof mask. There was a reason for wearing the heavy bulletproof mask after all.

The resistance didn’t stop. He drew a high-frequency tactical dagger from his waist and began swinging it at my neck. If something seemed bulletproof, use a high-frequency weapon. He had learned well.

I lightly struck the inside of his swinging arm. Due to the difference in strength, I caught his dropped tactical dagger, powered it up, and stabbed it into his nape. I pushed forward, completely severing it.

I was about to throw the blade at the criminal who had fallen backward with his shoulder completely split, when once again the criminal’s list of crimes appeared before my eyes.

It was probably meant to prevent me from being swayed by guilt, but it was distracting. In that brief moment, I threw the dagger at him as he crawled away. One Regular down.

Bullets from a submachine gun fired by a Regular sitting on the opposite side hit the armor plate on my shoulder and deflected. Even the bullets that hit areas with only bulletproof fabric didn’t cause much pain.

After drawing just one high-frequency blade from my bag, I lightly stepped on the ground. For a fraction of a second, I felt the muscle fibers and coils in my body storing energy, then I sprang forward.

His gun barrel couldn’t track me and was still pointing at where I had been crouching. Like I had done in the hologram, I sliced him diagonally with the high-frequency blade held in one hand.

The red of bodily fluids mixed with the black of oil to form an unpleasant dark red color. I wiped the blade from base to tip with the palm of my tactical glove, removing the blood and oil. I sheathed the second blade at my waist.

With two swords, movements become simpler and responses easier. It’s like how even a skilled artist would struggle to complete a single drawing using a pen in each hand simultaneously.

I heard footsteps from outside. I jumped lightly in place. The cameras, expecting a scene, were all looking at me. They were filming me hanging from the ceiling fixture.

Soon, with the sound of the door being smashed, a better-armed Regular and some extras poured in. Confused by the already concluded situation, they noticed where the cameras were pointing.

They looked up to where the cameras were filming. And there, they encountered Gardner. I released the ceiling fixture and went into free fall. I twisted my body like when I beheaded Manager Herbert Lorel.

Without an enhanced body, such control in mid-air would be impossible, and without Type 4, such fluid movement would be unattainable. I pressed down on that Regular’s head while rotating in the air, using it as a pivot point to slice through.

I cut once more, severing the back of his neck to finish him off properly. I knocked aside the gun barrel an extra was raising, causing the bullet to lodge in the ceiling. With my left hand, I grabbed his head and pushed it sideways.

What was just a push for me was an irresistible force for him. His flailing feet lost balance, and he was smashed into the corridor wall. I took another deep breath.

I grabbed the slide of the pistol the next guy was raising. With brute force, I pulled it out and shoved it into his mouth, then struck it with my fist holding the high-frequency blade.

He fell backward with the pistol slide protruding from his life support device. An expression appeared on the criminals’ faces that they never showed when looking at Serena. Fear. Terror.

Instinct would scream: ‘There will be more chances within a month! If you die here, it’s over!’ Sometimes instinct is much more rational than reason. But what filled his mind wasn’t instinct but panic.

He raised a shotgun, thinking it might protect him. Too close. Even for close-range shooting, you need at least three meters of distance. For ordinary people, that is.

I reached deep and grabbed the finger caught in the trigger guard. One shot was fired but only left a scorch mark on my costume. I gently pushed him backward and took the shotgun.

The fact that he had this weapon meant Heroism & Hope had intentionally let him in. The saying “ignorance is a sin” fits this high-speed era better than any other.

I pulled the pump to eject the empty shell and reloaded. I pulled the trigger. A red-covered shotgun shell rolled across the reddened corridor floor. I spotted a Regular with a bulletproof shield. The shotgun would be useless.

As he was backing away with his shield, I took a couple of steps for momentum and kicked the shield. He dropped it and rolled across the corridor floor, stopping behind colleagues who were trying to flee without him.

In my ear, I heard the handler’s voice again. He was actually trying to restrain me.

“Viewers will think the fat guy who just got kicked will survive. How ironic. The one who stands his ground until the end survives. That will be the impressive part.”

I picked up the bulletproof shield from the floor. I used the bottom edge of the shield to strike down an extra who had been knocked over by the rolling fat man.

Again, there might be some omission of details, but he died after falling while abandoning his comrade. I shot another criminal who was groaning and getting up further back with the pistol at my waist.

I lightly threw the eight-kilogram rectangular bulletproof shield with a spin toward a criminal who had gotten up and was desperately running after the fat man toward the elevator.

The bulletproof shield flew through the air at a speed he had never experienced or imagined, and severed the criminal who was kneeling in front of the closed elevator doors. A fitting end.

Drawing both high-frequency blades simultaneously, I headed for the elevator doors where the shield was embedded. I kicked the shield, completely destroying the safety-locked doors, and jumped into the descending elevator.

It wasn’t that high anyway. I stepped on the emergency exit and fell through it. Already, two unmanned filming cameras had followed me in and were recording the scene. The fat man was trembling with fear.

In my signature pose, I crossed the two high-frequency blades like scissors. With the buzzing sound of the vibrating high-frequency blades sliding against each other, I cut through where his life support device was located.

The handler didn’t bark at me. A message just appeared in my vision telling me to deliver a line. Without bothering to think of a good line, I said something that seemed to fit Gardner:

“A weed that has struggled hard to survive shouldn’t be spared, but pulled out with the utmost care. That’s why you sought out the gardener, isn’t it?”

H-Entertainment’s mascot appeared in my vision with a thumbs up. At the bottom of the emoticon were the words “Excellent ad-lib!” attached just like a childish “Well done!” sticker.