Ch.22Work Record #004 – Far Too Many Me’s (7)

My emotional state was already fully exposed. Volla raised her metallic hand of the full-body prosthesis and spoke lightly.

“Is it not necessary to consider removing you from this mission? As you’ve admitted yourself, you seem to be in quite an unstable state.”

It wasn’t an unfair assessment. If this were Belwether, I would have already been excluded from this operation, with room to spare. But President Yoon’s judgment was different.

“No need to consider it. Offliner isn’t afraid of killing those people. He’s afraid because he knows he must kill them, and he will. You may raise objections if you have any.”

After that statement of trust, no one questioned whether I should participate in this mission again. I also stopped taking those unnecessarily deep breaths.

I stroke my mask and ballistic face shield. Being able to hide one’s face was nothing short of a privilege. With the preliminary information concluded, it was time for the proper mission briefing.

A map appeared on the screen. Land in the wasteland is cheap. The wasteland is useless terrain. Living there only means dying slowly. Their headquarters was located in the wasteland.

A wide space that looked like a shooting range, and one large building. A four-story commercial-looking structure. The air inside that building would smell of vengeance. That much was certain.

Good things shared become half, bad things shared become double. In a building where they share and share and share that badness again and again, a terrible stench must surely permeate.

The map zoomed out once to show nearby abandoned buildings and a cheap apartment complex where people actually lived. President Yoon pointed to an abandoned building with a diagonal view of the vigilante headquarters.

“I’ll take this position as a sniper point for support. Since Belwether specified disbandment rather than elimination, we’ll need to negotiate, and if combat becomes necessary, we’ll need to engage in a frontal assault with proper defenses. Volla, you should equip additional armor plates. Offliner, your objective is to infiltrate the building from this direction.”

She pointed to the left side where only wasteland stretched out, rather than the right side which was slightly illuminated by the apartment lights. I traced a line. There was a wall surrounding the militia headquarters.

I could jump over it. If possible, it would be better to infiltrate directly to the second or third floor. They would have many guards on the first floor, but not so many above.

“Once infiltration is complete, communicate Belwether’s intentions and recommend surrender. If they refuse to surrender, Offliner, who will have already infiltrated, will eliminate the office workers to complete the total elimination. Kay, please focus on managing Volla. Since they don’t possess enhancement suits, a machine gun should be sufficient. Volla, prepare mechanical systems to minimize hacking damage.”

Eve’s role was to fill the gaps. She could be a rifleman alongside Volla with her reliable ballistic protection, or if Volla could handle the front alone, she could manage rear infiltration.

The militia numbered 19 people, but only four of them were former security team members. I wasn’t sure whether to consider this fortunate or unfortunate.

Belwether, who had no choice but to hide the truth, and ordinary office workers who believed the excuses presented instead of the truth and took up arms… Yes. It was terrible. I couldn’t call it fortunate.

The avengers didn’t want anything grand. What they wanted was simple. A life where they didn’t have to think about revenge, where their only concern was the taste of coffee from the office machine.

But the closer they got to revenge, the further they drifted from that ordinary life. The time when they could put down their guns and return to that simple life had already passed, and now they couldn’t go back even if they laid down their weapons.

Is it the same for me? Will I drift further from a normal life the closer I get to that monstrosity? I was still within the realm of normalcy. Mercenary work was one of the common jobs in LA.

They are soon me, and I am soon them. We’re identical right down to being unable to let go of our vengeance. Though I decided not to make excuses… I had no intention of abandoning my revenge.

Reason persuades, but nature thirsts. I don’t want to toss and turn at night seeing that monstrosity’s face. I don’t want memories of that day at the Belwether building to overlay every experience.

I decide to leave unanswered questions in the night-lit office for now. When I return after completing the job, I might find better answers than I have now. The briefing ended, and I put on my mask. I attached the ballistic face shield.

I check the mirror. The ballistic mask with only eye and nose holes like a skull still looked grim, and thanks to the anti-flash black film, my eyes weren’t visible at all. Eve approached me.

She seemed to want to ask if I was okay, but appeared to think even such a question might be impolite. I wasn’t in great shape either, but I answered in a friendly voice.

“I’m fine, and you shouldn’t be unable to perform your duties because of me. I should be telling good children that there’s no boogeyman under the bed or in the closet, but…”

Tina, who already called me by that name, was changing her prosthetic leg and placed her half-attached prosthetic arm on my shoulder like a Halloween prank as she spoke.

“Bad kids need to be scared with boogeyman stories to keep them in line. That’s how it is. Our boogeyman is good at his job, isn’t he?”

I thought Eve was ice-cold, but her resemblance to ice wasn’t in coldness but in fragility. Perhaps she was someone with too many worries and too much kindness.

I don’t know why such a person is here, but seeing me show trustworthiness, Eve reluctantly nodded. Everyone headed down to the armored van to drive toward the wasteland.

Gunshots ring out in the city again today. On the way, communication interference brought the sounds of another mercenary company shooting gang members into our van, forcing Kay to intervene. Night is working hours for mercenaries.

Volla’s body, with additional armor installed, looked at least twice as heavy as usual. With her head completely covered, she now looked more like the soldier drones guarding Koreatown than a full-body prosthetic.

A suicide drone was also prepared for fire support. Thanks to Enzo. We entered the operational area. President Yoon and I quietly exited the van first to secure the sniper position and check the infiltration point.

President Yoon’s voice came through my in-ear from her position atop the abandoned building. It was a private communication.

“Sniper position secured, Offliner. I’ll cover you until infiltration. Building security consists of four guards, patrolling in two pairs of two. The view inside the wall from the current position is definitely… good. Clearly secured, so I’ll radio when the guards pass by. Any other ideas?”

“I could non-lethally subdue the guards and change into their uniforms to infiltrate, but these appear to be proper Belwether standard-issue helmets. Is that correct?”

If they wore transparent visors and were close enough to each other to perfectly memorize each other’s faces and voices, such infiltration would be much better avoided.

“The militia is armed with Belwether’s standard equipment, Offliner. Disguise and infiltration would be difficult, but… if it were possible, efficiency would increase significantly. Let’s talk briefly after the mission is complete.”

My current infiltration method relied solely on using the Posthuman Type IV’s ability to move quietly and quickly to run and jump in. If there could be improvement beyond that, efficiency would increase.

First things first. Electric fencing topped the walls of the militia headquarters. It was about 3 meters high, so jumping over wouldn’t be a problem.

The Posthuman Type IV couldn’t fly only because Belwether respected gravity, not for any other reason. Now the van had arrived in front of the militia headquarters.

The Battering Rams militia turned on their lights and illuminated our van. A voice came through my in-ear.

“Infiltrate now, Offliner. The guards are being summoned to the front of the building due to the sudden appearance of the armored vehicle, so you can infiltrate safely. Don’t move too leisurely.”

I bent my knees slightly before jumping up. I easily cleared the wall with its 3-meter-high electric fence, absorbing the impact with my whole body and landing silently like a cat.

The lights were on at the third floor. The hackers would be on the darkened fourth floor. Placing office workers in the safest location was a basic principle. Keeping the lights off and hiding them as if there was nothing suspicious was also basic.

I walk silently. The wasteland ground is so dry that not even muddy footprints remain. I turned the carbine’s selector to automatic and placed my finger on the trigger guard. Voices could be heard from the upper floors.

“What is it, cops? If it were cops, they wouldn’t have sent just one vehicle! Everyone to positions! Turn off all lights and take cover at the barricades in the second-floor corridor! Send two people up to the fourth floor! Turn on the security system!”

Too late. Until now, I was a man in black standing in a brightly lit corridor, but now I was a black figure in darkness without even emergency lights. They were coming to the second floor, so I shouldn’t stay here.

I moved toward a window facing the back of the building. I closed the window and lightly jumped up to grab the third-floor windowsill. I could hear people moving urgently behind the wall.

After the sound passed, I pressed the neck mic button while hanging by one hand. They said they would turn on the security system, so I needed to report quickly and then enter.

“The office workers seem to be on the fourth floor. They’ve ordered lights out, and most personnel are gathering at barricades set up in the second-floor corridor. I’m currently on the exterior wall of the third floor.”

“Confirmed, Offliner. Switching to armor-piercing rounds. Do not approach the second floor.”

Volla’s voice came through, but it was output rather than spoken. I pulled myself up at an angle, confirmed the darkened corridor was empty, opened the third-floor window, and entered.

From outside the window, I heard the president’s voice. Though she wasn’t in the van, it was her voice that spoke.

“This vehicle belongs to Night Watch, an official mercenary contractor of Belwether. Do not open fire. Belwether acknowledges that the Battering Rams were organized to uphold Belwether’s values, but has also made it clear that making public terrorist threats damages those very values. We at Night Watch, on behalf of Belwether, advise the disbandment of this militia.”

The intruder detection system activated at that moment. Touching windows carelessly would no longer be a good idea. I quietly climbed the stairs. There were no guards on the staircase.

A booming voice echoed from the lower floors. It was a male voice, not from security team background judging by the megaphone implant.

“So Belwether turning a blind eye to Jaina without proper punishment according to regulations aligns with Belwether’s values? Was it rational to overlook it just because some heretics died?”

Belwether never simply overlooked it. It was just classified information too high for their security clearance. I couldn’t tell them that, and they refused voluntary disbandment.

Whose fault is this? I can’t tell. We just need to believe it’s not ours. The man with the megaphone implant continued.

“Besides, we have Belwether’s permission! Belwether recognized that we goats have more company loyalty than the security team that handled things too softly, and they’ve supported us!”

Ridiculous nonsense. The Company knows everything. The Company knows how many innocent and not-so-innocent Jaina members died at the hands of the security team. There’s no way they would have authorized this.

“This statement has been transmitted to Belwether Los Angeles branch as evidence that the Battering Rams have refused voluntary disbandment. Now…”

The van’s speaker, which had been the channel of communication, turned off. Instead, a voice came through my in-ear.

“Negotiation failed, commencing operation. Total elimination as planned.”

I slid up the stairs to the fourth floor. Moving silently, I observed two militia members at the end of the corridor, aiming their guns out the window.

Their intruder alarm had never sounded. It’s impossible to penetrate an armored van with rifles. They seemed to be waiting with guns aimed for someone to emerge.

Even with a silencer, firing inside the building would reveal which floor the intruder was on. Could I approach them silently? Yes. A Posthuman Type IV could certainly do it.

I drew Belwether’s tactical dagger. This time, I didn’t need to worry about blood splatter. I approached, suppressing the sound of my footsteps and preventing my weapon from making noise. After getting close enough, I stomped on the floor.

The tiles on the building floor cracked. The militia member closer to me was just turning his head when his throat was pierced. The knife tip completely penetrated his neck. He couldn’t scream.

I pulled the blade outward to completely kill him. The militia member beside him quickly turned his gun, but the physical performance difference was too great. I grabbed the barrel with my empty left hand, pushed it outward, and aimed for his side.

The knife tip sank deep into his side where the bulletproof vest couldn’t protect. At that sensation, his body momentarily stiffened, leaning toward the wound as if completely tensed. His voice trembling as it escaped his lips.

With the gun barrel twisted aside and too close to shoot with the rifle, I covered his mouth with my left hand. Instead of being unnecessarily cruel, I cleanly pierced the side of his neck to kill him. Just as the training materials had shown.

I took a modular grenade from his waist, pulled the pin, and threw it through the door he had been guarding. It was a fragmentation grenade. I leaned against the wall beside the door, preparing to withstand the blast.

The Posthuman Type IV provided almost perfect protection against fragments, but that didn’t mean I could stand directly in front of an exploding grenade.

After enduring the explosion that seemed to shake the entire building with my dampened hearing, I entered the room. The room was neatly reinforced with armor plates, but that didn’t protect against a grenade thrown inside.

Three office workers seemed to have died instantly in the explosion, but one woman whose upper body had been hidden behind displays was still alive. Just barely. She was bleeding heavily. She stared at me with wide eyes.

As she tried to draw her issued pistol, I shot her precisely in the head. I had no desire to get bullet marks on my face while trying to close her eyes. Despite the heaviness, I didn’t sigh.

Without my reporting, I heard the armored van door opening. The explosion had been the most definitive report.

Volla, wielding her enhancement suit machine gun, began literally demolishing the second-floor barricade. A sound as loud as my grenade scraped through the building. I dampened this too.

Without the threat of hacking, Volla couldn’t be stopped by mere fragmentation grenades. She walked out of the van, creating cover for Eve, and the rifle bullets raining down only left scratches on her additional armor plates.

From the in-ear of a militia member bleeding from his side and neck, I heard a voice. An urgent voice.

“Fourth floor, what was that explosion! Report! These bastards brought a full-body prosthetic, fuck! They even brought a full-body prosthetic! Evacuate the office workers through the back door first!”

I pulled out his in-ear and brought the microphone to my mask’s mouth. I whispered one sentence slowly.

“When the sun sets, you should have turned on your intruder detection system right away. It’s too late now.”

After crushing the microphone in my hand, I escaped through the window at the back of the building. Before jumping up to the roof, I radioed in.

“Demoralization operation complete. I’ve directed them to the fourth floor, and I’ll wait on the roof. Please have Volla enter from the ground floor and drive them toward the roof.”

Only then did I pull myself up to the roof. If I had climbed up without radioing, the president might have pulled the trigger. Night is working hours for mercenaries. Night Watch is a company that handles jobs cleanly.