Ch.155Work Record No. 021 – The Sacred Newcomer of the Industry (5)

Several photos appear on the briefing screen. People identified as NFD employees are shown conversing in a crudely constructed noise-cancellation space, captured by surveillance cameras.

Silent zones could only be used by companies affiliated with Bellwether or Fitts & Morrison. The Las Vegas Strip was too small to even be considered a mega-corporation and was an enemy of Fitts & Morrison.

To be precise… it wasn’t a single company. It was a conglomeration of criminal organizations that originally just laundered money in the Strip, along with casino operators who banded together to survive.

If asked whether it was a beautiful sight, one could never answer affirmatively. It was like a hideous mass of flesh sometimes seen in biotech labs, all jumbled together.

The factions that lost in the power struggle barely survived in the wastelands surrounding the Strip that existed even before the war, while the Strip’s wealth was all clutched in the hands of that terrible monstrosity. Winner-takes-all, just like their casinos.

I never quite understood how gangs could be so powerful. The gangs in Los Angeles were like garden grass. When they grow too much, the homeowner clicks their tongue and brings out the lawnmower. The grass gets cut short again. The cycle repeats.

Anyway, the photos showed agents… or operatives from the Strip. Their affiliations were concealed, but they stood out walking around the city in clean suits and well-armed.

More specifically, they caught attention because they were near NFD, which had already become a surveillance target after being directly involved in a security breach at the Bellwether branch related to an undertaker issue.

I hadn’t done much in this world personally. Adrian suppressed the Los Angeles branch coup. I handled security duties in Detroit. There would be more to come.

The other photos… showed a man with the same face as the neatly-suited agent, talking within the Las Vegas Strip, though the background was censored.

“A recruitment officer from Vegas was spotted in downtown Los Angeles. There’s a high possibility of additional security personnel from that company, so it’s been designated as a high-risk operation.”

Unlike yesterday’s first assignment that ended with just two lines of briefing, receiving such detailed information was almost moving. A mega-corporation trying to recruit directly meant… NFD still had some juice left.

Are they trying to steal Bellwether’s information processing team’s methods? Or they might be trying to steal information. I could understand since I’d stolen information the same way. It would be a major security threat.

A major security risk is a big opportunity for someone. The Vegas guys would have made preparations too. A second photo appears. It shows the building housing NFD’s office. A four-story building.

Not tall but quite large, with entrances at the front and back, plus another entrance leading down to the parking garage. The concrete walls would be very easy to climb. The roof provided another entry point.

“There are quite a few entry points… let’s eliminate one. Kay, as soon as we arrive, access the parking garage system and close it off. We’ll divide the field teams into two groups for the front and back entrances. And…”

President Yoon looked at me briefly before continuing. More precisely, he looked at my hands first. Did we have the same thought? Judging by what I heard next, we definitely did.

“Mr. Arthur, please infiltrate alone via the rooftop. Since you’ll be operating solo, your life risk allowance will be increased by 20%. There will be sniper support, but you’ll still need to move alone.”

“A freelancer should be able to handle that much. What about kill authorization?”

“It’s been issued for all NFD employees. You can kill the Vegas security team too, but there’s a bonus for capturing the recruitment officer alive. The information processing team will open him up.”

The phrase “open up” is terrifying. It’s when the gray matter containing a person’s emotions, reason, dreams, reality, and everything else gets broken down into a mush of information.

“The Vegas guys must already know this much, so their top priority will be escape…”

Once detected, the word “escape” becomes meaningless. Bellwether outsourced this job precisely because once spotted in the city, there was only one way for them to escape safely.

That would be for the Las Vegas Strip to directly appease Bellwether. Since that obviously wouldn’t happen, they were destined to be killed within Los Angeles. Still, everyone dreams. Quite desperately.

The downloaded materials showed two vehicles that appeared to be theirs being parked. One in the underground garage, the other parked beside the building. Their movement would be on the ground floor.

My job is to make them hurry. To make them rush down the stairs right into Vola’s machine gun sights, to make them frantically open the back door with guns aimed at it.

“Can I request gas grenades? I think I could enter one floor directly with lethal force, then throw tear gas to the next floor so the front team wouldn’t need to come up.”

Vomit gas was certainly superior for incapacitation, but because of that, many couldn’t escape and remained in place. It would be difficult to handle everyone alone during infiltration.

“Approved. Since it’s a mid-tier partner company building, the interior and exterior will be securely contained, so there should be minimal harm to regular employees-citizens.”

I’m issued two tear gas grenades and two flash grenades modified with two connected together. I attach them to my combat uniform’s waist. A rookie speaks up, sounding confused.

“I understand the front and back entrance approach… but how will you infiltrate via the rooftop? We don’t have a helicopter, and even for a freelancer…”

Are people starting to see me as a Market Keeper? After briefly considering how to explain… I decided to just accept being treated as an extraordinary and strange person.

Yesterday’s assignment involved hunting things hiding in their own home, so there was no opportunity to demonstrate superhuman physical abilities. This would be the first chance.

“I’ll climb up. The enhanced body I’m wearing can scale walls.”

After seeing their speechless expressions, I casually put on my display helmet, covering it with a black display to make it opaque from the outside. The briefing continues a bit longer.

Everyone loaded armor-piercing rounds, and Eve sternly lectured the rookies not to get hurt. Mila responded energetically, while the other two rookies answered with proper posture. Good new employees.

Eve tends to become sharper when discussing the issue of people close to her getting hurt. It seemed these three people had already added a layer of diversity to Eve’s daily life.

The armored night van that could fit ten people was finally full. Once again, I sat in the passenger seat holding a carbine, while Tina, who had switched to her everyday prosthetic hand, skillfully started driving.

Everything is repetitive and routine. It will probably continue to repeat unless freelance requests come in. Is it meaningless? Perhaps. But it doesn’t matter. It’s quite a happy time.

We reach the NFD office building. A bland concrete gray building. Given the nature of the business, there’s plenty of exposed concrete and minimal glass to let in light. Perfect.

I exit the passenger seat first, take a light running start and jump up. I grab onto the third-floor wall of the four-story building without any support, then remove my gloves and climb up like a gecko using the friction of my bare hands.

Any employee who might say, ‘Let’s have roof security watch the walls in case someone climbs up,’ would deserve immediate termination, but ridiculously, such things do happen.

I grab the final wall of the fourth floor and pull myself up. There was a guard with a rifle on the roof. Kill authorization appears in my vision, and Kay’s voice rings out energetically.

“Identity confirmed! Strip guy! Don’t kill him right away! I’m accessing the underground parking control system with a drone and… wait, that’s not it. Ah, it’s at the emergency control panel. Got it! Kill him!”

Having computational assistance devices for emergency operations often leads to getting compromised like this. It would be better to hardwire everything despite the inconvenience… but then infiltrating drones become an issue.

Security is annoying, and it needs to be annoying. If you try to make it convenient, others will want to share in that convenience too. I turn the carbine to single shot and move along the roof’s perimeter.

I approach from his blind spot, grab the barrel, and precisely pierce the nape of his neck with one shot. Though muffled by the silencer, the definite sound of gunfire triggers movement inside.

I can’t hear voices. They must be using voice modules too. A shepherd dog needs to know the state of the flock to herd them. Fortunately, I have useful tools.

I can’t hear voices. I connected my computational assistance device to the work communication channel and spoke only through the voice module without opening my mouth.

‘I believe Strip employees are also using voice modules. I’ll use a jammer to assess the interior.’

Having worked as an offliner before, using a jammer wouldn’t hinder my performance. After President Yoon’s approval, I lowered my HUD and activated the jammer. It made little difference to me. To me.

It probably wouldn’t make much difference to them either. They would communicate with hand signals. But that wasn’t true for everyone. The NFD employees were office workers. I hear one’s voice.

“What, uh, what’s happening? How from above, um…”

The voice soon stops. Someone probably punched him. But I could infer their location. I hang the carbine back on my shoulder strap, pull the pin from the connected flash grenades, and jump down from the roof.

I grab the window frame of the 4th floor where the sound came from, break the window with my hand holding the flash grenades, and throw them inside. I can see the flash grenades rotating in slow motion.

I draw Little Evil, climb over the window frame, and smash through the broken window to enter. A black anti-flash shield lowers beneath my eyelids. Sightlines and firing lines converge on me.

When they see the flash grenades in front of me, reactions diverge. Some immediately cover their heads with their arms and turn away. Three shots from Little Evil pierce through backs, necks, and heads.

Simultaneously, my aim gets slightly disrupted. Whether they thought they could neutralize the grenades before they exploded or not, a hail of bullets came my way. Since they couldn’t smuggle in rifles, the impact wasn’t severe.

Within a second, my helmet got grazed by a bullet, and submachine gun rounds decorated my ballistic plates. Bullets slid off the ballistic fiber on my shoulder… then the flash grenades exploded. I felt the scorching heat.

Reduced flash and dampened explosions rang out twice in succession. Their quick neutralization attempt failed, and the flash grenades exacted their toll from those who faced them directly, seizing their sight, hearing, and sense of direction.

It was brief. And simultaneously eternal. If it had been just the flash grenades, it would have been momentary, but afterward, armor-piercing rounds from Little Evil on full auto tore through ballistic plates and concrete floors.

I watched those who had wisely turned away and the NFD employees frantically running down toward the 3rd floor, while kicking a Strip employee who was staggering and trying to pick up his gun in front of me.

I raised my heel and crushed his helmet with my foot as he rolled on the floor, finished with a confirmation shot, then ejected Little Evil’s magazine and reloaded. I drew a tear gas grenade.

I walk toward the emergency stairs. I throw the tear gas grenade through the slowly closing fire door to the 3rd floor. I grab the door handle and yank it open, then throw another one into the office beyond.

In air filled with aerosol, even hand signals don’t work. Among the coughing and wheezing, a command voice close to a shout rang out.

“Teams 1 and 2, evacuate with the employees you were assigned to! Don’t engage! Don’t bring Bellwether in!”

For casino people, they don’t seem to know who’s sitting at the table. This was Bellwether’s table. Bellwether takes the commission, decides whether it’s an ante or a blind, everything.

They should have known that much once they entered Los Angeles. I draw my carbine instead of Little Evil and rake fire at torso height.

I wasn’t trying to hit anyone. It was to make them believe they would fail their mission, whatever it was, if they didn’t flee immediately.

They listened well. True to Strip dogs. I turned off the jammer and informed the main team. I was quite a good shepherd dog.

‘Most personnel are retreating via the building’s right emergency staircase. Is the front team standing by?’

“Vola is waiting, Boogeyman. Look for the recruitment officer before dealing with the rest. Kay will send a thermal drone.”

‘Understood.’

I leisurely inhale the tear gas smoke. Despite the pain it causes others, the taste wasn’t special. Not spicy, not bitter… I couldn’t taste anything at all.

Whenever Kay’s thermal drone circles around and displays a red X in my vision, I pull the trigger. And among them, a green circle appears. The recruitment officer. He was holding his breath.

As he uses his last breath to draw a pistol and try to pull the trigger, I precisely punch his chest where his lungs would be. He makes a choking sound and opens his mouth wide, starting to breathe in.

He would have been better off taking small breaths. I knock away the pistol, bind his wrists behind his back with cable ties, and drag him down. While leisurely descending the emergency stairwell, the sound of machine gun fire erupts.

It was a sound I’d heard while working as a gardener. The sound of people becoming meat and soon turning to mush. Vola’s voice returns through the communication channel.

“I’ve dealt with the stragglers who came down to the first floor! Did you capture the recruitment officer, Boogeyman?”

‘Yes, I’ve captured him and am coming down. I’ll be using the left emergency stairs, so don’t shoot.’

“Confirmed! What was so high-risk about this?”

‘I guess we were the high risk. Obviously.’

As I was about to open the emergency stairwell door to Vola’s laughter, Kay’s thermal drone flew over with a small plastic chip and dropped it into my hand. A private communication line connects.

“Gotta grab those side earnings, Boogeyman! It’s an anonymous authentication chip for the members-only direct trade site ‘Coco’s Shop Play’! Takes months to get one of these. Just slip it into your pocket! Okay?”

‘Black market?’

“Nah, sometimes gray items show up too! According to the site description, it was created to educate preschool and elementary school children about economic concepts, so calling it a black market is harsh!”

According to Kay’s sarcastic explanation, it was definitely a black market. Was NFD caught selling Bellwether’s brain prison information there? No. If that were the case, they wouldn’t still be around.

It must have been one of their backup channels. I took the small chip and pushed it into my combat uniform pocket, then opened the emergency stairwell door and walked out. A gardener-style red carpet was laid out in the corridor.

Seeing that sight, the recruitment officer tried to work his painful, stiff jaw to extract something. It was obvious what it would be.

I reach into the recruitment officer’s mouth and pull out a molar with a poison ampule attached that could be activated by biting. The job was done.