Ch.17Work Record #003 – Too Many Me’s (2)

The flash grenade I casually tossed drew a clean straight line toward the clone’s face. Even without targeting assistance, my Type IV posthuman body performed exactly as I intended.

Savoring its capabilities, I deliberately blinked once more. A dark, translucent membrane descended from inside my eyelids, designed to protect against flash blindness.

For me, it would just be a momentary flash, but for that clone, it would feel like the blinding light would never end. This enhanced body was prepared for any situation.

Two flash grenades detonated almost simultaneously, spreading a terrible flash and thunderous noise throughout the area. The effect was even more severe in the enclosed indoor space. The clone hostage-taker staggered, seemingly unable to regain her senses.

She had already dropped her pistol and tried to bring her feet together to maintain balance, but her right foot didn’t touch the ground. Her sense of equilibrium was already damaged, causing her body to tilt. I couldn’t kill her.

I glided through the window and approached her smoothly. I gently grabbed the neck of the clone who was flailing her arms in front of her, unaware that the gun had fallen from her hands. The clone’s internal structure was identical to an unenhanced human.

I gripped her carotid artery. Her trembling hands grabbed my wrist, but she had no chance of resisting. Her airway remained open, so she wheezed as she tried to breathe, but it was useless.

The blood vessels that needed to carry that inhaled oxygen to her brain were blocked, so there was nothing she could do. To avoid brain damage, I stopped the pressure after ten seconds.

Her feeble resistance was barely noticeable after eight seconds, and by the ninth second, her body had completely gone limp. I pulled out a cable tie from my combat uniform’s waist and bound her wrists.

The second task was also completed cleanly. I pressed the button on my neck microphone and reported, not bothering to pin the unconscious clone down with my knee since she was clearly out.

“Capture complete. Since our mission was only to capture the perpetrator, I’ll leave the victim status check to the management and exit. Could you call the security team?”

“Excellent. I’ll call them. Open the door and rendezvous with Enzo to wait.”

“Understood,” I reported crisply. The victim wasn’t our concern, but I approached the tear-stained victim sitting in the corner and extended my hand. I helped him up lightly.

He began to bow his head to me in gratitude. He apparently still didn’t realize that we hadn’t come for him. He seemed to have been threatened and hit a few times, but there appeared to be no life-threatening injuries.

“Thank you. Thank, thank you. She was acting crazy last night, and this morning she grabbed my gun and told me to stand against the wall… The more I think about it, the more fucked up it is. That bitch, can I shoot her dead? I’ll pay compensation.”

“Please remain seated. The clone is under management jurisdiction. It’s not our place to interfere. I’m going to open the door and leave, Enzo. It’s me, so don’t fire—”

The victim started moving toward the gun. I cut off communication and quickly stepped to the gun, stepping on the pistol to prevent him from picking it up, then warned him once more.

I had an obligation to verbally restrain a victim whose judgment might be impaired by shock—twice, but only twice. It was an obligation from my Bellwether days, but it’s a useful practice in many situations.

“Please. Remain. Seated. Someone from management will come to take the clone away and discuss compensation with you. Our job is not to kill that clone.”

“If you came to rescue someone from a bitch with a gun, just say she resisted and you shot her! I can’t stand seeing that fucking bitch leave this room alive. What, are you going to fail your mission objective, mercenary?”

I had verbally restrained him twice. Though he still hadn’t picked up the gun, I placed my hand on my neck microphone button and said:

“The victim is attempting to kill the mission target. I will restrain him.”

The boss’s voice was cold. He wasn’t the mission target. The objective was securing the clone. He wasn’t important to this operation. It would be better if he didn’t die, but he didn’t possess any significant power.

“Permission granted. If some injuries occur, report it as happening during the hostage situation. Just make sure you restrain him properly.”

He probably never expected that the excuse he was planning to use to kill someone would come back to him. Until now, I had only used words, but this time I raised my fist.

I caught his right wrist with my right hand as he swung it as if to slap me. I pulled him lightly so his body was completely drawn to my right side, exposing his flank.

I delivered a heavy blow to that exposed right side with the strength of my enhanced body. My fist sank deep as if hitting a mass of gelatin.

A gelatin mass would wobble back to its original shape when you remove your fist, but inside his side were ribs. At least three or four must have cracked.

He collapsed without even being able to scream, clutching his side. I stomped on the back of his neck with the sole of my combat boot. I brought my carbine back around to the front, aimed it at the back of his head, and said:

“Hands behind your back. Our objective was securing the hostage-taker, not rescuing the hostage. I helped you up because you looked pitiful trembling on the floor, but don’t act like you’re on the board of directors. Understand?”

He kept nodding while lying face down on the floor. After that, he behaved well. I bound his hands behind his back with a cable tie, tossed him casually next to the bed, and opened the front door to rendezvous with Enzo.

The two people who came in to check the situation looked at me questioningly when they saw even the victim lying face down on the floor. I let out a dry laugh and explained:

“He started acting up, saying he was going to kill the clone hostage-taker because he thought we came to rescue him, so I restrained him. I got permission, so don’t worry.”

While Enzo sighed deeply in relief, Eve quietly approached the clone hostage-taker and gently sat her up. There was inappropriate compassion in her eyes.

Nevertheless, she said nothing. She didn’t cut the cable ties or say that medical assistance should be called. Personal and professional matters are different. Everyone has a private life, but no one compromises their work.

She quietly stood up and spoke in a voice slightly less cold. She was somewhat emotional—just emotional enough not to affect her work.

“Clean capture, Offliner. Reliable as always. Since you were on the scene, if anyone asks questions, you answer. Can you handle that?”

“Of course.”

Although my career record only showed “expunged,” the work I had done until now was still the work I had done. Soon, a representative from the clone management hurriedly walked toward the room.

He extended his hand as if wanting to shake hands first. I lightly took his hand and shook it. Since I couldn’t verify his identity, I turned to Enzo. Enzo nodded in confirmation.

“Wow, calling an official partner company was definitely the right choice. Resolved in less than 10 minutes after the report came in. I should call Yakyung next time too. I was hesitant because of the unusual name, but I shouldn’t have been.”

Around that time, the clone leaning against the wall opened her eyes. When she realized her wrists were bound, she tried to struggle with her feet, but quieted down when I aimed my carbine at her. The management representative bowed his head again.

“So clean. But, perhaps… Ah, that guest is still here. Two security guards, take the guest to the infirmary and call the legal team. That’s right.”

After security guards wearing helmets with visors that concealed their faces took away the complaining guest who was whining about his side hurting, the representative spoke in an almost whispered voice:

“I was wondering if Yakyung could keep this clone for a few days. You see, our higher-ups want to immediately cover up the incident and reassure the guests by announcing ‘We executed the clone and conducted a full investigation of the clone cultivation process.’ Without actually doing the investigation. Stupid and inefficient, right?”

Inefficient indeed. This was a matter that should involve the Market Keepers, but… at least the client didn’t hide this information from us. So there was no reason or obligation to call the Market Keepers.

“But the higher-ups have made their decision and won’t accept any objections. They want to kill another Bella to show, while our cultivation team examines the original hostage-taker separately. It would be at my personal expense, but I’ll pay you handsomely for this favor. Is that possible? You can record everything, really.”

Such responsibility in this industry. It felt like encountering something unexpected. Director Yoon, who had come up the stairs with Vola, opened his mouth while playing a holographic projection of the recorded file.

“This doesn’t violate any rules for Bellwether’s official partners. We have no obligation to report the client’s inefficiency, nor do we have to strictly follow that inefficiency. How much are you proposing for protection costs?”

“Ah, well. I can offer about 1,500 per day. Keeping her won’t cost you much, but it takes quite a bit of money to keep mercenaries quiet. I’ll come to pick her up in three days.”

The deal was sealed with a handshake. Vola made the hostage-taker clone kneel with her head bowed, bound her simply in that position, and put her in her enhanced combat gear gun bag. The size was just right.

But she was handling her like an object. Though good for concealment, a clone without any modifications could get injured quite easily. I grabbed the bag handle she was about to pick up.

“This is a protection request, so we can’t return the client’s property covered in bruises, right? I’ll carry it.”

“Ah. True, these flesh lumps bruise just from bumping into things. Tsk. Inefficient things. I’m counting on you, Offliner.”

We simply concluded the contract. We hadn’t betrayed our employer. Our job was to capture the clone hostage-taker and hand her over to the authorities. The representative had simply given us a new job afterward.

“Ah, I’m so glad you’re reasonable people. 7137, go to where Bella was sitting earlier. Could I borrow a cable tie? You can turn around if you want. There’s no reason for you to watch this, and honestly, it’s best not to see unpleasant sights. Thank you so much for your cooperation.”

Only after the boss approved did I hand over a cable tie. Another Bella model with the same face, same build, and same voice as the hostage-taker sat down in that spot.

The clone management cultivation team representative tied her hands behind her back. There were three more Bellas around to replace her. His superiors would be satisfied just seeing a clone’s corpse.

“Kneel down. Ah, bow your head. You should look sorry. That’s right. Sleep well, 7137.”

After that, he drew a pistol from his waist and aimed it at the clone’s head. A horrific scene of execution unfolded before my eyes. Eve had already turned her head away.

She had covered her ears too, but in this indoor space, sound would leak through no matter how much she covered them. I put down the bag containing the clone and approached her. Showing my hands with the gloves removed, I whispered:

“This is shock-absorbing material that can completely block sounds from speakers. Mind if I help out?”

Eve nodded despite her unsettled expression, and I cupped my hands around her ears to prevent sound from leaking in. Even so, the noise-cancelling wouldn’t be perfect.

A gunshot rang out. The Bella model who had been kneeling there collapsed and died without resistance or fear. The room filled with a smell reminiscent of what I had faintly detected when I died.

I survived, but the clone wouldn’t. Trained not to close my eyes even when gunshots rang out, I saw everything. My stomach churned slightly, but I endured it.

After a moment of silent prayer, the clone cultivation team member spoke in a somewhat heavy voice. Even if it was a clone, it was made of the same material as a human and experienced the same death.

“I’ll report that the emergency situation has been resolved. You can return now. Thank you very much, Yakyung.”

I carried the bag containing the clone with one hand and held Eve’s hand with the other as she kept her eyes closed. Eve, who seemed to have been holding her breath, took a deep breath only after leaving the room.

That was the extent of her emotional display. Without even thanking me, she remained quiet all the way back to the van. It was the same in the van. She only occasionally glanced at the bag containing the clone.

The van is a safe place. It’s shielded. So it should be fine to take her out. I removed my bulletproof mask and face covering to reveal my original face and spoke to the director.

“If we keep her in the bag for three days, her blood circulation will be compromised to the point where the client won’t be able to analyze her properly. Can I untie the restraints connecting her neck and ankles and just let her sit?”

“Go ahead. We need to return her to the client in a healthy condition.”

I opened the bag and cut through the restraint that had been looped around her neck, through her chest and between her legs to her ankles, forcing her to kneel with her head bowed. It broke easily with a little force.

It certainly wouldn’t be suitable for restraining a Type IV posthuman. Only then did the clone painfully lift her face, which had turned red from blood pooling. The gag Vola had put on her was still in place.

The clone… seemed to have no idea why her face was red, why her head felt foggy, or why her vision was blurry. A self-aware clone was about 98% the same as a human.

Because of that 2% deficiency, she who had lived as an object among objects wouldn’t know how the human body worked. As she tried to struggle, I forcibly sat her down and explained:

“Calm down. Calm down before I have to knock you out again. Your head was bowed for too long, so blood rushed to your head. If you sit for a moment, you’ll feel better. Oh, right. This is outside the store. Outside the wall. Understand?”

The phrase “outside the store” seemed like another world to her. She started turning her head as if trying to look outside from inside this windowless armored van. I grabbed her head and kept her seated.

“There are no windows in this van, so just sit still. What should we do?”

I turned the clone’s head to face Director Yoon. She began speaking calmly while looking at the clone with her sniper-grade artificial eye.

“You’re no longer a hostage-taker, and we can’t call you without a name, so I’ll call you by your number for now. You can understand that much, can’t you, 7436?”

Though she hated being called by a number, she knew she had no name other than her number, so she quietly nodded.

“Good. You must have heard what job we received. You’ll be outside that wall for a few days. If you cooperate, you might enjoy a bit more freedom. If not, we can inject you with anesthetics, put you in a body bag for storage, and ship you like a package. Arthur, please remove her gag. 7436, answer me.”

I removed the gag, but she didn’t bite her hand or cause a disturbance. She simply nodded with an expression that showed both hope and lost motivation.

“After seeing another Bella die, I was worried that would happen to me too. I just don’t want to experience that bang-like thing again. I can think. I’m not stupid like those clones.”

“At least you’re smart enough to listen. Then you can understand that you’ll need to go back in the bag briefly when we get out of the car. The client killed that Bella to preserve you.”

When we arrived at the office, the clone knelt down on her own, bowed her head, and got into the bag. I picked it up lightly and carried her up to the office. Inside the office with drawn curtains, I took her out.

Her wrists and ankles were still bound, but we had given her one of Valentina’s tracksuits to wear. Bella #7436 seemed fascinated by all these new sights.

The realization that the world wasn’t just a series of rooms with a bed and a display. That outside windows there wasn’t just a white wall with paint gloss. That people in the room all had different faces, and she wasn’t surrounded by countless versions of herself. She was looking at all these trivial things with such wonder.

It was three days of freedom. Three days of life. Or maybe not. After all, I was sitting here instead of becoming gray matter destined for the trash can after serving my purpose of cultivating a Type IV posthuman in thirty days.

As I quietly looked around the office… Eve was looking at 7436 with the same gaze I had. I couldn’t know why. I could speculate, but I chose not to.