Ch.130

Now I’ll return to the elevator and finish this. After putting away the two high-frequency blades in their sheaths, I press the elevator button again. The cameras begin to withdraw their greedy gaze.

But suddenly, the cameras start focusing intently again. I hear the handler’s voice in my earpiece. I answer by picking up the submachine gun the fat man had been carrying.

“They’re criminals, neither regulars nor extras. They’re called defectors… simply put, they’re DPD officers who refused Detroit’s acquisition. They weren’t on today’s schedule. Probably…”

“Probably” means they had anticipated this possibility. A list of crimes is transmitted to me. These defectors have been killing people who cooperate with H Entertainment and broadcast participants. In that case, I don’t need to worry.

‘I guess we’re not the only ones who realized that anyone barging in would look like a regular or extra. You deliberately kept security loose, and some unwanted elements slipped through?’

“That’s correct. It’s called a corporate headquarters, but it’s actually a studio. We have some intentional security vulnerabilities created for Serena’s crisis scenes.”

‘You might want to give the security team more authority. What’s their location?’

I’m starting to feel sorry for Heroism & Hope’s security team. The Belvedere security team had quite a strong influence, so perhaps that’s why I feel this way.

“They’re waiting on the 14th floor. I’ll stop the elevator at the 15th floor…”

‘Have we earned enough to damage an elevator?’

“Looking at the ratings, we’ve definitely earned that much. Does that sound fun to you?”

‘Gardner is an unconventional character. I suppose it’s fine to drop an elevator to catch criminals waiting in front of it.’

A moment of contemplation follows. Though by “moment,” I mean about half a second. In the entertainment industry, sacrificing an elevator for the sake of enjoyment was acceptable.

“Permission granted. From here on, we’ll go with improvisation. Remember your character. And just know that these criminals are the real criminals you wanted.”

I decide to speak as Gardner again. Instead of just speaking through the mental communication channel, I open my actual mouth. The voice module is working well.

“Location confirmed. Even overtime work is worth it for the garden.”

As a corporate-sponsored killer obsessively fixated on gardens, I should add some kind of slogan or catchphrase at the end, like everyone else does. A thumbs-up emoji appears, indicating it was excellent ad-lib.

Victory doesn’t belong to the stronger person. It belongs to the better prepared one. The one who’s better trained and can stay calmer. So, I needed to break their preparation. I lightly jump up onto the top of the elevator.

I draw both high-frequency blades simultaneously, inject current through the wire-cum-neural system, and use the vibrating blades to cut through the elevator cables, which are made of easily severable material.

The free fall lasts only briefly. The safety device, deliberately designed to deploy with a delay, extends, and as the freely falling elevator gradually decelerates, I simply stand still. Gardner must remain emotionless.

All his emotions are bound within the word “garden.” Fear should be what he feels when thinking about damage to the garden, and anger should be what he feels when defending against intrusions to the garden.

The elevator, which had been descending one or two floors per second, now slides down dozens of floors per second, gradually slowing as the deployed safety devices take effect. As we pass the 14th floor, I lightly kick off and jump upward.

It’s been a while since I felt gravity pulling on my body. That’s probably why my jump wasn’t as high as I’d intended. I hear panicked curses from beyond the elevator doors.

“Chief, Chief! This is unexpected. That bastard Gardner must have dropped the elevator because suddenly the elevator…”

With cameras narrowing their lenses as if drooling in anticipation, I aim one high-frequency blade at the door crack. I turn on the vibration, then drive it in with a punch from my other fist. Then I pull it back out.

Sticky blood mixed with drugs comes out on the blade. Hearing the servomotors of reinforced armor activating, I lightly jump down and hook myself onto the lower frame of the elevator door, hanging there to hide.

As expected, soon a reinforced knee kicks the elevator door with a heavy sound, shattering it. The barrel of a rifle with attachments aims into the doorway.

He aims right above me. He must have been watching the broadcast, but unfortunately, I didn’t use the same method twice. I reach up lightly and grab his ankle.

He tried to pull his ankle free, but lacked the strength. I whisper to him in Gardner’s voice:

“Chief… so that’s the root of you weeds. I’ll pull it out. Something the so-called city guardian can’t do.”

Is this line good? I briefly wondered, but another thumbs-up emoji appeared in my vision. I thought it was the perfect timing to naturally emphasize the rivalry dynamic.

I pull on the ankle I’m crushing in my grip. I throw him onto the stopped elevator below. The reinforced suit should withstand it. He lands on his back in the reinforced suit and barely manages to get up and break through the door to escape.

They might as well have made the entire building out of cardboard. Someone seemed to have a hobby of creating scenes where people in reinforced suits tear down walls or doors. We all have different tastes. I won’t scorn it.

Still… I couldn’t help wanting to treat the security team to a meal in Gardner’s name. I lightly jump down and pursue him. The building was already evacuated of all actors playing regular employees.

He ran with a limp, his chest bearing a wound from the high-frequency blade, while I walked. Two cameras followed me, and one followed him. They must be filming the contrast between us.

The defector naturally headed toward the central hall of the building. There’s a fountain there deep enough for a person to be submerged. He managed to jump up with just one foot and positioned himself at the end of the corridor, lying in ambush.

The cameras were filming, and I had access to their footage. He didn’t seem to know that. Perhaps he thought only they could prepare in advance by stealing footage.

Pretending not to know, I walk to the central hall. As I peer into the fountain as if checking whether someone is hiding underwater, the defector lightly jumps up, grabs the back of my head, and shoves it into the water.

There’s no better way to kill an enhanced human without weapons than suffocation. The problem is that trying to kill a Belvedere bioweapon with bare hands is an act so stupid it makes the word “stupid” look intelligent.

Even the Special Operations Division couldn’t kill me by strangling me. Yet here was some random person in a reinforced suit trying to drown me. It was almost absurd.

Without struggling, I wait a moment until he feels some anxiety and confusion and tries to pull his hand away. I reach out with the hand that had been gripping the edge of the fountain and grab his wrist.

As I flip my half-hanging body over, I pull his wrist into the water. In his reinforced suit, having lost his rifle and weapons when he fell, he had no way to resist.

I can see water leaking through the gaps in his reinforced suit, which isn’t even closed-circuit. Unlike me, he struggles. It’s a desperate resistance. But the difference in strength was too great.

The veil slowly spreads in the water. Outside the water, three cameras gather to film the defector dying by the very method he tried to use on me. Underwater, it was quiet except for the bubbling.

After about twenty or thirty seconds, he can’t hold his breath any longer and exhales. Water invades. He seems to be trying to say something, but people can’t speak underwater.

A message appears in my vision: “The scene is too long.” This was a live show. No matter how impactful the scene, viewers don’t want to watch someone suffocating underwater for several minutes.

I need to finish this properly. I draw my high-frequency blade and turn on the vibration underwater, feeling the resonance more heavily.

I pierce the back of his neck where the life support system would be. The cameras filming the blade emerging from underwater fade out. Episode 1 finally ends.

I emerge from the water listening to the handler’s voice in my ear again. I didn’t even need to exhale deeply. I never felt any suffocation to begin with.

The sniper veil, wet and flowing down, looks just like the hair of a water ghost. After jumping out with the water in an explosive manner, I shake off the water. I push the high-frequency blade back into its sheath.

“Filming complete. The entire building interior is now a no-filming zone again. Return to base, callsign Gardner.”

The elevator whose cable I cut already has an out-of-order sign on it. I take the one next to it up to the penthouse. Serena must have gone for surgery by now.

After all the windows surrounding the penthouse are covered, the handler with his still gloomy eyes walks out and extends his hand to me as if offering a handshake. I take it, and he shakes it lightly.

“I think we should recruit you as an actor rather than for the security team. With just one comment about the defectors, you naturally created a rivalry dynamic with Serena. I couldn’t ask for more. The response…”

With one gesture from him, hologram projectors attached to each penthouse window frame begin to emit light. Numerous net screens appear. Ah, it seems to be time to check viewer opinions.

Quite a few people praised that this level of violence was perfectly suited for an adult-rated show. These were people who weren’t satisfied with Serena’s episodes mostly ending in suppression or arrest.

No matter how terrible the air in Los Angeles where I lived, it’s nothing compared to the air of the net. There were also quite a few insults in this current, either criticizing Serena or saying my episode was too violent.

The authors were generally just one or two people. In this high-speed era, this is just entertainment. I remove the veil and bulletproof mask. I lightly loosen my shoulders. There were no wounds on my body.

The rest of the responses are mostly favorable. Ah, it seems I wasn’t the only one who thought the sniper veil, wet and hanging down when I emerged from the water, looked like hair.

Someone had edited the episode footage, combining the scene where I pull the defector into the water, the underwater struggle, and me emerging after piercing his head, into a clip.

That clip, titled something like “The Little Mermaid Live Action We Want,” was getting quite a lot of views. It’s quite an awkward feeling to have all of Detroit’s net talking about me. Especially when it’s positive talk.

The handler, who had been watching me slowly examining the responses, spoke with a face that had shed some of its gloominess. Perhaps it wasn’t gloominess but seriousness all along.

“Serena gave people hope. Hope that criminals would eventually be arrested. Gardner will give a different hope.”

He lightly pauses a hologram window. It was a compilation of scenes of me killing people—throwing daggers, slicing diagonally with high-frequency blades like garden shears, and so on.

“Hope that criminals not even worthy of being arrested by Serena will be killed by Gardner. Is that hope?”

“It’s twisted, but hope is hope. Having Gardner is better than not having him, and not having criminals is better than having them.”

The handler smiles. He begins to speak at length.

“That’s all we need. Hope is addictive. It creates excellent dependency. The porn industry doesn’t last long. The drama industry has to cut to the bone every year. The hope industry isn’t like that.”

I wonder if I should see him as a good person, or just someone obsessed with money. He continues speaking, leisurely tapping his fingers together.

“We’re creating a model right now. A business model for meaningfully supplying hope through heroes. You’d be surprised to know how many cities outside Detroit have already contacted us.”

Well… at the very least, looking at Detroit’s current state, things probably won’t get worse. I’m not sure yet if I should consider his words as positive.

“And we’ve gained ideas from a character meant to cover unexpected situations. If we get more meaningful data over the next two weeks, I’ll let you know that your compensation might increase.”

Rivalry dynamics are cliché. Is this about character conception and character connection? Nothing clear came to mind. I’m not young enough anymore to talk about existential philosophy rather than being a shooting specialist.

“As for compensation, you don’t need to increase it much. I’ll be making plenty of money anyway, so it’s much better to learn what I can from the entertainment industry.”

Money is just value written down as numbers. I’m a freelancer recognized by Mr. Gunter. I have more than enough value that can be converted to money. I firmly built up my confidence with that thought.

So what I need more is value. I think of what I want most. The meat of the whale called god will surely be sweet. For that alone, I could let go of even material desires.

Gardner and I have few similarities, but the driving force that moves us is the same. It’s hatred. I was no longer ashamed.

The Heroism & Hope handler, seeing my expression, shuddered as if getting goosebumps and said:

“I thought you were just a young, kind person, but your eyes can be quite chilling at times. Not bad. That’s what suits Gardner. Oh, and… Ms. Serena will be able to rest a bit.”

“I’m not stupid or kind enough to deny that it’s thanks to me. Good thing I worked hard. When’s the next broadcast?”

“It will be tomorrow. After attending the episode meeting, you’re free to spend your evening as you wish, callsign Gardner.”

Soon I attend the episode meeting. Quite a lot of effort and manpower were being poured into Gardner, considering he was a disposable character. I had a lot to say.

First, I wanted to ease Ms. Serena’s burden. Since I had delivered that line about uprooting the defectors today, I asked if we could focus the broadcast on tracking down defectors.

The proposal was accepted. Probably because I showed myself to be as good an actor as I am a freelancer.

With those words, I willingly took on the burden of having to cut down former colleagues from Ms. Serena, who was already carrying too much.