Ch.237Work Record 034 – People Who Look Alike (1)

If I could, I would have liked to proceed with the chair-stealing operation without thinking about the mutant problem, but that was impossible in its own way.

Right now, Hollywood Creek is almost the only supplier of medicine to Belwether. The chair-stealing operation was a plan to kill Hollywood Creek. It would clearly be detrimental to Belwether.

To avoid such damage, there would need to be a company willing to supply medicines and services on better terms than Hollywood Creek, but the only company large enough to do that in the entire United States is Panacea Meditech.

The reason Panacea Meditech can’t join hands with Belwether is precisely because of that mutation. It’s a problem that needs to be dealt with somehow. And it’s easier to persuade Belwether than to taint Panacea Meditech with hatred.

It felt rather hypocritical that thinking about the mutation problem only led to thoughts about external politics… but since it is indeed hypocrisy, I should avoid making plausible excuses. This is all for Ms. Eve’s sake.

For Ms. Eve, I would gladly crush Hollywood Creek until not one stone remains upon another, and it would be good if someone who is oppressed could be freed from oppression. It would be good if Belwether, which I love, could improve. That’s all.

Even when trying to simplify it, it remains a terribly difficult problem. Is it worth it? Definitely. The meat of the whale called god will surely be sweet. Sweet enough to numb the ends of one’s senses and nerves. I’m certain of it.

For the sake of that sensory experience, I’ll endure this terribly difficult and complex problem for a while. Sometimes, by persevering, difficult and complex problems ripen sufficiently to become enjoyable.

The important thing is not to stop. There’s only one way to escape this sticky, muddy swamp where you can’t love what you used to love or believe what you used to believe. It’s all about moving forward, faster and faster.

I memorize the patrol schedule and map with the Public Security Department that I just reviewed. I should inform Tina. Normally, I would have simply captured the view, but the Public Security Department was essentially an intelligence agency.

I had no intention of making the sound of taking pictures or being detected there. I naturally exchanged greetings and left the Public Security Department’s office. With Stephanet’s guidance, I exited the building.

I’ve heard that driving usually helps to push through complicated feelings, but driving through the smoggy, sweltering Los Angeles wasn’t particularly helpful. Only monotonous time stretched on.

And that monotonous time was broken by a flashing red exclamation mark blinking noticeably from the corner of my vision. It was an emergency signal. The sender was… a school bus from La Tierra Elementary School.

‘Attacked during the return trip. 34 children on board and the bus driver is seriously injured. The armor plating can hold for about 5 minutes. The school will generously compensate for any assistance in rescue.’

Or was the bus attacked because it was from a school that ‘could generously compensate’? Without even thinking about it, I turned my bike toward the signal.

Without my separate operation, the bike switched to automatic driving, and I heard Chance’s voice. Chance intensely dislikes these aspects of this high-speed era.

“I’ll handle the driving. Be careful of crossfire, and make sure firepower doesn’t spill over toward the bus. Other than that… handle it decisively.”

It took less than two minutes to reach the scene. As soon as I arrived, I pulled out my carbine from the bike and was about to turn the corner toward the scene when… the situation was already over.

A van labeled “Silver Lining” was parked nearby, and Dean was standing there with a Japanese sword glowing with pink neon light in one hand and a submachine gun in the other.

He was covered in blood from head to toe, and the street was littered with suit-wearing thugs who had been practically diced to pieces.

He slowly raised his head to look at me… crossed his index and middle fingers to push up his sunglasses onto his forehead, and then gave his usual friendly smile.

“Looks like someone missed out on a ‘generous compensation,’ Arthur! Hmm, hmm. Still, I’m quite pleased that I wasn’t the only one who responded to that signal.”

“In that state, you couldn’t go into the school bus and tell the kids it’s all over, so I’d say you haven’t lost the most important reward. Don’t you think?”

Dean finally noticed his own appearance and shook his whole body like a soaking wet large dog. Blood droplets splattered everywhere, but he did look a bit cleaner.

“Ah, damn. Cutting with a blade really makes a mess, I tell you. Besides, the kids would probably prefer hearing from a Belwether-certified freelancer rather than a high-risk mercenary. Can I ask for your help?”

“Since I’ve been asked, I should gladly take all the credit, shouldn’t I?”

After exchanging harmless teasing and laughter, I patted his shoulder a few times to show appreciation for his work… and headed toward the school bus marked with bullet traces. The armor plating had done its job admirably.

A connection request to Silver Lining’s communication channel entered my mind. Since Aegis didn’t comment, I willingly accepted the connection, and soon the monotonous voice of that hacker began to sound in my head.

“Scanning the surrounding area. Dean already sliced up most of them. One escaped, but Brandon is in pursuit. No, pursuit over. All assailants have been eliminated. The area is secure. You can open it.”

They probably didn’t expect to encounter a former freelancer and a Champ while attacking a school bus. Misdeeds are generally followed by misfortune. Misfortune punishes wrongdoing more severely than anything else.

Still, taking down all those thugs in that condition within 2 minutes was… quite an impressive performance. Especially with “classical” armaments, to put it kindly, like a sword and submachine gun.

I knocked on the school bus door a few times. Making sure my freelancer license was visible, I said:

“Arthur Murphy, Belwether-certified freelancer. The situation outside has been resolved. Belwether personnel will be arriving soon!”

After hearing my words and verifying my license, the school bus door opened. I could see that the front windshield inside the armor plating had shattered… and the driver, pale from blood loss, was barely alive.

When he tried to thank me, I pointed my thumb at Dean standing behind me. The driver properly directed his thanks toward Dean after seeing his blood-covered appearance. His share is his share.

By the time I had reassured the children, Public Security Department bikes had surrounded the area. The last thug that Brandon had reportedly killed was being carried by a Public Security agent in a preservation fluid container.

It would have been much wiser to destroy his own cerebral cortex before being caught by a Champ. I don’t sympathize. He only paid the price he deserved.

The situation was comfortably resolved. The school bus departed with replaced armor plating and a new driver to drop off the children, and the injured driver was transported to the hospital. It seems we’re reaching a point where armed mercenaries need to ride on school buses too.

It’s a moment that makes me miss Detroit, where the word “crime” was defined as something that only happened on screens, giving the city its security. In LA, crime is something that happens before your eyes, not just on screens.

As I was looking at the scene with mixed feelings, I felt something heavy hit my back. It was Dean, who had draped a towel he’d used to wipe off blood around his neck, lightly slapping my back.

Apparently, a shock-absorbing body feels strange to hit. Dean made a sour face, clenching and unclenching his hand a few times as he spoke:

“Whoa, Type 4 really… feels weird when you hit it. Anyway! Thanks for having my back, Arthur. With you standing there, the Public Security Department couldn’t call us high-risk or semi-wanted or whatever. Did you see that?”

“Belwether people wouldn’t first apply the high-risk standard to a mercenary who fought alongside a freelancer to protect children. That would be incredibly inefficient, wouldn’t it?”

Dean pretended to pinch his nose and burst into light laughter. He had always been a person with exaggerated actions since the last time. It didn’t feel particularly bad.

“Ugh! Such a model student smell. And what kind of high-risk are we associated with anyway. Of course they would have said something. It really is thanks to you, man! I was going to tell you that thanks to you, you don’t have to bring beer to the next party!”

“Oh? You should know that I’m holding back quite a few words for a mercenary wearing sunglasses and a leather jacket, armed with a neon-glowing katana and a submachine gun?”

At my words, Dean readily raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. He was a funny person, but it would be hard to call him ridiculous.

“I forgot who was showing mercy here. I am a bit old-fashioned. But, friend, there are things in this world that only old-fashioned people can do, right?”

“Someone who barely knows what they can do themselves isn’t in a position to comment on that. I’m currently experiencing a comprehensive lack of ability myself.”

Dean tended to talk much more when speaking Spanish. However, upon hearing the phrase “comprehensive lack of ability,” he pushed up his sunglasses again to reveal his bright yellow prosthetic eye and asked in English:

“A comprehensive lack of ability! What are you trying to do?”

“In this high-speed era, there are many whales, and I have my own Moby Dick. That should be enough to say, right?”

“I think we might have similar dreams, friend. Tyrants will always end up like this, right?”

I nodded lightly. I couldn’t tell what whale Dean was hunting… but at least he didn’t seem like someone who would do something stupid.

After promising to invite me to the next party, Silver Lining’s armored van drove off toward a grocery store, and I got back on my own path. First, I needed to stop by the night shift office.

I entered through the fire emergency exit and wrote down all the memorized information to hand over to Nadia. I naturally headed toward Tina’s night duty room and entered the office… where I saw a familiar reinforced suit outside.

It was a reinforced suit I had seen in Detroit. Red base coloring with shark-tooth-like white patterns on one forearm and shin. It was from Red Shark Company. The identity of the visitor was now clear.

The boss, Yoon, slightly turned his head when he saw me naturally coming out of the night duty room. The Red Shark Company representative didn’t seem to have arrived long ago. He probably arrived while I was writing down the information.

“Were you resting there? I’m a Belwether-certified freelancer collaborating with the night shift of your mercenary company. My call sign is Boogeyman, have you heard of me?”

He slowly looked me up and down, then let out a laugh through the microphone of his closed reinforced suit. It didn’t sound like mockery.

“Boogeyman, huh. You look quite a bit tamer than the real Boogeyman we saw in Detroit? Still, as a freelancer, one shouldn’t underestimate your abilities. I’m from Red Shark Company. As for why I’m here….”

The words “You’re looking at the real Boogeyman from Detroit right now, but your discernment is lacking” rose to the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them back. It’s a day for reminiscing.

And I didn’t enjoy being underestimated either. Without hiding even this small misdeed, I walked right up to the reinforced suit. About half of this was from what I learned in advance study.

“Red Shark Company is a mercenary company that investment agencies use like limbs, so I assume an investment agency sent you. I know you’re quite a skilled mercenary company, so this isn’t some mediocre product.”

I pushed a virtual screen toward him showing a page about an upcoming charity concert hosted by Panacea Meditech. I continued speaking leisurely:

“As it happens, Panacea Meditech, which has decided to increase collaboration with the entertainment industry, is hosting a concert in Los Angeles, and security duties have also been assigned to three-company certified freelancers… so it must be Polaris.”

“Huh. Yes, you are indeed a freelancer. That’s correct. Polaris will be arriving in LA soon, and our mercenary companies are in charge of long-distance security for Polaris, so we came looking for a collaborator in the city.”

Now I’ve at least matched my former self. Feeling the Red Shark Company representative looking me over with increased interest, I turned the conversation back to Boss Yoon. That was all I wanted to say.

So, I’ll be meeting Polaris again. Your guiding star in a lost era, in a lost city? She certainly lived up to that impressive nickname. We couldn’t become friends back then.

Because a gardener was someone who silently looked down at the ground tending to the garden rather than looking up at the sky to enjoy the starlight. I quite liked her star, but a contract was a contract.

The problem is… it’s just as difficult to become friends this time. Officially, neither Polaris nor I have ever met each other. That tiresome “officially.”

I decided to be happy about the fact that at least we could face each other without masks. There are already more than enough things I can’t enjoy regarding Belwether and the mutation.

Having finished delivering what needed to be delivered to the night shift, I was about to head back home when a warning appeared over my HUD-overlaid vision. Falling object warning.

Looking up at the sudden falling object warning… a low-noise helicopter was flying not too high above. The helicopter door opened briefly, and something jumped out from inside.

I tracked it with my eyes. It was Polaris’s bodyguard whom I had seen before. Theodore, was it? Polaris shortened it to Theo, but I was supposed to be someone who didn’t know that fact. He was jumping down.

Just as I was imagining the feeling of free fall, a heavy white reinforced suit—that massive life-support-equipped all-in-one body, if you could call it a reinforced suit—landed heavily right in front of me.

He didn’t linger long. After pushing aside broken pieces of the road, he took a couple of light steps for momentum and jumped up again. A second falling object was dropping from the sky.

Polaris was falling, wearing a small parachute simply to reduce her falling speed. I couldn’t tell how confident she was that her bodyguard, who had landed first, would catch her.

Of course, as she expected, Theo caught Polaris very easily. Her trust seemed rather blind, but she was someone who almost never made gambles she could lose.

Nevertheless, Polaris was as innocent as ever. Wiggling her legs and slightly shrugging her shoulders in her bodyguard’s arms, she removed her parachute bag and landed lightly in front of me.

Standing in the middle of a Los Angeles road in a scarf and leather jacket, modeled after old airplane pilots, she looked like a scene from a music video with a puzzling concept.

Polaris pulls everything around her into a silver screen. It feels like background music should start playing, and it seems as if lighting adjustments are being made outside my field of vision.

In that surreal and dreamlike atmosphere, Polaris naturally bent her waist in front of me and greeted me. It was the same greeting as when I first met her.

“Your guiding star shining in a lost world, in a lost era. I’m Polaris. I was curious about who my close-range bodyguard in Los Angeles would be, so I came to find out. So…”

Polaris rummaged around inside her jacket in a rather cartoonish manner as if trying to take something out, and finally, after undoing her jacket’s waist strap, she pulled something out.

It was a 600g box of ‘Gardener’s Choice’ Chamomile Tea. I managed to suppress my expression from contorting, but Polaris’s mischievous yet innocent smile, clearly meant to tease me, was sparkling right in front of me.

“Since I’ve made it here as you wished me luck, shall we have a cup of tea and talk?”

Fucked. I let out a word in my mind that I had forgotten for a while.