Ch.231Record of Task #033 – Fear Not the Darkness (5)

Since Silver Lining was the last contractor on the list, I had some time to rest until Pablo contacted me. Though I decided to call it status monitoring rather than a break.

The pale hacker approaches the only pseudo-food item in this villa’s backyard. Synthetic orange-flavored juice. It seemed they brought that despite being able to make juice from real oranges.

Strange people. I was watching the scene for a moment when I heard the sound of a closed-circuit exosuit being removed behind me. A man in swimwear emerged from inside it. His skin color was… peculiar.

He looked like an ordinary white man at first glance, but his skin itself seemed to be replaced with some other material. The color was similar, but the texture and quality were so different from normal skin that it felt uncanny.

Still, if I tried not to focus on it, it didn’t look that strange. I figured it was just that his skin had a golden sheen when light hit it.

Apart from that, he wasn’t a bad-looking person. Around the same age as Dean, with blonde hair pulled back to reveal his forehead… a man covered in implants that looked too expensive to be called ordinary.

“I thought diving in a closed-circuit exosuit would be awesome, but our new guest kind of ruined the mood. Hmm. Everything else is fine, but… please forget the ‘Whoa!’ part. Can I ask that much?”

I was thinking his voice sounded rather gentle when Dean, who had climbed back onto his duck tube, threw a chicken-shaped tube at him and mocked him by imitating chicken sounds.

The mocked mercenary immediately jumps into the pool. A peaceful scene unfolds, almost making me forget we were hunting a mutant terrorist, and I can’t help but smile a little.

His movements were somewhat exaggerated like a professional wrestler’s as he executed a drop kick with both legs together, and Dean, still on his tube, dodged it… What followed was childishly ridiculous yet undeniably funny bickering.

One might think they were fighting, but they weren’t. Neither was serious. Seeing those incredibly expensive enhanced bodies being used like this was so absurd I couldn’t hold back my laughter.

Finally, the blonde mercenary ended their childish fight by leaping out of the water as if lightly propelled, splashing water everywhere. He extended his hand to me. Now I could clearly see his prosthetic hand.

I wasn’t sure if it was related to the material of his skin, but both his hands were golden prosthetics. They must be gold-plated. They were clearly strength-augmenting prosthetics.

Does he use heavy weapons? No, that’s not it. The inside of the prosthetics, made of non-slip material, had scratch marks all over. They perfectly matched where a high-frequency blade would be gripped.

While the back of that prosthetic hand had fewer scars, the opposite prosthetic was completely covered in wounds and scratches, including marks where deep gouges had been filled. It reminded me of the contrasting weapon combination of sword and shield.

Was he from G-Enter? Using such prosthetics to avoid losing grip on cold weapons… No. It must be New Magers Department Store. That familiar bright gold color was the signature color of New Magers.

And considering Silver Lining’s level of expertise—where the boss was once a freelancer and the hacker was skilled enough to instantly identify Aegis’s capabilities and cut the connection—he was likely a Champion of New Magers.

When terrorists cause trouble in a New Magers department store, the store typically seals everything, including ventilation ducts. After that, the security team is deployed first, and if they fail, the Champion is sent in.

The Champion always achieves complete victory. Not just by killing the intruders, but by thoroughly dismantling them. By dragging them into New Magers’ show business.

They mock them through microwork, distribute materials created by the marketing team as if the intruders were villains in a movie. They turn it into show business where the Champion character fights the intruder character.

Once the background check on the intruder is complete, it gets worse. The marketing team instantly pieces together the intruder’s past that led them to break into New Magers, turning it into an entertaining story added to the live broadcast.

The intruder becomes a character people sympathize with. It’s fake sympathy. People only laugh or cry because they empathize with the character’s sad story. They’re only pitied from outside the viewers’ world.

From that moment, the Champion becomes the counterpart to the intruder character. Whether trying to directly thwart the intruder’s goals, or sympathizing with their story while reluctantly cutting them down… the strategies are always diverse.

And then they kill them in that state. Sometimes viewers side with the Champion, sometimes they curse at them. But by the time New Magers is locked down again, the Champion returns. That was the Champion’s purpose.

The Champion must be a symbol of victory. The Champion must be strong. They must be plastered with all kinds of implants, wearing a closed-circuit exosuit, wielding a high-frequency blade and shield as they leap down.

I had realized during my work as a gardener that a sword creates better scenes than a gun. It’s all about creating dynamic and spectacular visuals. I no longer find it strange.

After these thoughts flashed through my mind, I lightly grasped and shook the hand he offered. His grip was quite good, but neither of us applied much pressure. This wasn’t the time for a contest of strength.

Still, I thought I could tease him a little. Based on the information I’d gathered, I crafted my words and delivered them in a relaxed voice. His surprised reaction would be quite enjoyable.

“I don’t think any tabloid would believe that a former T-Enter certified freelancer and a former Champion were having a childish water fight in a Malibu villa’s pool. I’m Arthur Murphy, Champion.”

As soon as he heard my words, the former Champion froze. Uncharacteristically, with his expression still rigid, he barely managed to open his mouth.

“W-what?”

He was… more timid and fearful than the word “Champion” would suggest. Sometimes a character’s personality isn’t the same as the actor’s.

After letting the former Champion stare at me with a somewhat creeped-out expression for a moment, I burst into laughter first and patted his shoulder. I briefly allowed myself to enjoy this comfortable atmosphere.

“Isn’t it stranger to expect people not to recognize you when you’re literally covered in gold? Besides, your prosthetic palms have many scratches where they contact the high-frequency blade when gripping it.”

He opened his hand and looked down at his palm for a moment. Since the marks weren’t that obvious, he had a suspicious expression, so I continued explaining.

“And while the hand you use to hold the sword is in better condition… your other hand is covered in scars. For a Champion, it’s natural to have a sword in one hand and a shield in the other. Need I say more?”

“Huh, no. Damn it. Sarah! Don’t we have something awesome like this? Aren’t you prepared to recite this guy’s background?”

He called out to the pale hacker lying on a sun bed. She was already drinking her fourth pack of juice and briefly shook her head.

“I specialize in background checks, not observation. And you know what I almost went through just now when I tried to connect. Not doing it.”

“What? What did you almost go through?”

“That mercenary’s electronic warfare specialist. Immediate counter-tracking. Tried to get into my head. My firewall, excellent. Bought time. But that’s it. So, not doing it.”

I wonder if that pale hacker named Sarah knows she just went up against the artificial intelligence that protected the federal government’s biggest secret during the war? Even without knowing that, her judgment was quite accurate.

“Huh, you got me. Fine. As you said, I’m Brandon Hunter, former Champion of the New Magers department store in Denver. What else did you figure out? Do you think I’m left-handed, right-handed, or…?”

What saved me from a barrage of questions that would be impossible to answer without some kind of mind-reading superpower was, amusingly, mechanic Jones. I decided to consider it a favor returned for helping him earlier.

“Ah, just a moment. I’m getting a work-related communication…”

I connected the communication only in my mind without opening my mouth. Dean was looking at me with eyes that seemed to say, “Those were the good days.” For him, this is now an old scene.

“Hey, Hollow Man. That bomb guy Pablo contacted me. When I passed on your message… he gave me an address and said to meet this evening. I’m not going to get caught in the crossfire, right?”

He seems to prefer calling me that rather than “Transparent Man.” I decided to take it as just another name added to my collection. And Jones was strictly an outsider in this matter. He shouldn’t get hurt like the employee-citizens.

I need to hide this from Belwether too. Until now, Jones was just under surveillance, but if it becomes known that a wanted criminal who has freelancers hunting him has found Jones… it wouldn’t be good for him.

‘If it looks like you might get caught in the crossfire, I’ll cover for you, so don’t worry. Could you tell me the address and the time he mentioned?’

I receive the address and time from Jones. Although I had some time to spare, it seemed I had to end my intermission rest. Work always comes first.

“Ah, damn. Brandon, I would’ve liked to continue our twenty questions game, but that won’t work now. I got a tip about the terrorist I’m chasing. Do you have these parties every day?”

As if wanting to say a proper goodbye, Dean got up from his duck-shaped tube and came out of the pool. He pushed a virtual screen with Silver Lining’s business card toward me.

“No, Arthur. Even parties are occasional. Even retired freelancers would get sick of living like this every day. I’ll contact you when we have a party, and next time… well, since you’re only drinking beer this time, should I tell you to bring beer?”

I pushed the freelancer profile of callsign Boogeyman to him as he brushed off his trivial concern with a laugh. After waving lightly to him, I jumped up to the roof of the mansion with a light leap.

After a quick two-step running start, I headed to where I had parked my bike, mounted it, and headed early to the meeting place. Pablo probably thinks the Department of Public Security is starting to trace his movements.

A fish must see the shimmer of the fishing line above the bait to survive. Pablo will think he has seen that shimmer.

Meeting his wife was no longer his top priority. His top priority now is to escape and survive. From his perspective, the Department doesn’t know this and is trying to lure him out.

Such luring and deception operations inevitably involve fewer personnel than a full-scale sweep operation. For him, this might be his last chance to escape the encirclement.

It was obvious he would prepare something at the meeting place and wait. He would think the Department would be waiting there in force, and if he’s lucky, his wife might also be used as bait.

Being skilled with bombs, he would have prepared explosives. I could predict this. If I could predict it, it wouldn’t be difficult to catch him in his own trap. There were still problems, though.

Pablo was already planning to leave the city, which meant he would now willingly do things he had been restraining himself from doing. The address Pablo gave was a café in a small shopping area on the outskirts of the metropolitan area. There would be many people.

If Pablo had lured me to a less populated area, I was planning to place a female hologram there to draw him out, but now I would have to find Pablo myself.

Pablo is cautious. And he’s not stupid. Despite using civilians as shields, he had managed to escape from right under the Department’s nose once. I connected a call to the Director of Public Security.

“What is it, freelancer? If you need more information about Pablo’s movements, what we’ve given you is all we have for now. We can’t devote all our resources to each individual case.”

Mr. Günter must have experienced this too. If I were to say that I thought he needed additional information after giving me a little information and assigning me a job, then contacting me again… I usually give the exact opposite answer.

“That’s good news. I think I’ve succeeded in luring Pablo out. But if too many people move, he’ll notice… and there could be casualties among employee-citizens. What kind of help can you provide?”

I pass on the address and time I received to the Director of Public Security, along with how I obtained the address. Of course, I concealed the fact that I got it from Jones. After a moment of contemplation, Director Gabriel Walker’s voice continued.

“We can issue an evacuation order, but that would make Pablo flee too. We’ll scan the area for unauthorized surveillance devices and set up a secondary containment perimeter. Can I leave the raid to you?”

I opposed not issuing an evacuation order at all, but there wasn’t enough justification for one yet. I needed to find that justification. Actually, I wanted to handle it so that evacuation wouldn’t even be necessary.

If there are unauthorized surveillance devices, Pablo won’t be there. He’s decided to be satisfied with watching his revenge from behind a monitor.

But if there aren’t even unauthorized surveillance devices… Pablo will be watching from somewhere nearby. He’s decided to see the colors of revenge more vividly before escaping.

“You can leave the raid to me. And please drop a head preservation container and a container of preservation fluid nearby. He’ll use bombs, and he might even use a dead man’s switch.”

Even simpler than a bomb that explodes when the heartbeat stops is one that explodes when the computational assist device shuts down. If he’s prepared something like that, I just need to make sure the computational assist device doesn’t turn off. Simple.

“Understood. The Explosives Unit will be on standby, but be careful. I won’t close the communication channel. Please contact me again if Pablo’s location is properly identified.”

“Good. Let’s catch him cleanly. For the company and its employees and shareholders.”

Even without someone to sow them, lead seeds are scattered throughout Los Angeles, and without anyone to tend them, these seeds grow by themselves and bloom into tombstones.

This time, I couldn’t tell who should be said to have sown the seeds. It could be the mercenary Pablo. It might be Pablo’s wife, or it could be called mutant Pablo.

From the moment those scattered seeds started sprouting into tombstones, the stories and beginnings ceased to matter. From that moment on, what mattered was preventing the sown seeds from becoming more tombstones.

When a freelancer with a job rushes, speed limits transform from strict rules into gentle suggestions. The bike glided along the outskirts of the Los Angeles metropolitan area. I headed toward where Pablo would be.