Ch.241Work Record #034 – Look-alikes (5)

Assassins in the entertainment industry use poison as a routine practice. While the Night Watch occasionally used vomit-inducing gas, these assassins primarily use lethal poisons.

It’s a difference in purpose. These assassins aim to kill as many unarmed civilians as possible in the shortest time.

That’s why they use flechette rounds that are lethal with just one hit and can penetrate standard bulletproof vests. They throw gas grenades and equip various anti-personnel weapons.

It’s a cruel industry. But it’s not that dangerous of an industry. If you don’t fall for their deceptions, they’re not difficult to subdue.

“Oh, and… I was told that Polaris had two copyright agents as security, but airport records show three arrived. If you know anything about that, please let me know.”

Although Polaris was already considering that one copyright agent as a potential enemy, it was still worth asking.

“That copyright agent… don’t even consider him. If you’re a Belwether Mountain bioweapon, then that guy is a T-Entertainment bioweapon soaked in adrenal stimulants.”

From the phrase “soaked in adrenal stimulants,” I could infer something about T-Entertainment’s copyright agent.

In this high-speed era, no place wants humans who rampage around filled with rage. This is an age where rationality, focus, and self-control are the three essential elements of capability.

Ordinary adrenal stimulants fail in this regard. They do induce excessive adrenaline secretion, but simultaneously cause extreme stress responses that make people behave almost like beasts.

However, there are certainly ways to suppress these side effects.

The Shepherd solves this problem by activating endorphin secretion mechanisms. I had seen it during the coup suppression.

When endorphins clear away the clouds of stress and pain, the human mind achieves clarity and lucidity. Only then can one fully grasp and wield the razor-sharp focus created by adrenaline.

T-Entertainment’s copyright agent likely operates in a similar manner. Enhanced body, modifications covering that body, the entertainment industry’s creed of not hesitating to use poison and weapons of mass destruction, plus adrenal stimulants. “Monster” would be an appropriate description.

Since I couldn’t claim to deserve a different word myself, I decided to laugh it off. It’s always enjoyable to see someone’s dumbfounded expression at such remarks.

“Assuming a military corporation bioweapon would lose to an entertainment industry bioweapon… that would be treasonous, wouldn’t it?”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. If you were faced with the possibility that Belwether’s special operations agents might be enemies, would you still fight them?”

I nodded, indicating that of course I would. A corporation’s military force is just that—a corporation’s military force. There’s no need to fear or despise it.

Most people talk about special operations agents as if they were ghosts from horror stories, but they still believe those same people would come to save them when something truly serious happens.

“Fortunately, if I’m on the right side and special operations agents target me for the wrong reasons, I’d gladly fight. A corporation’s military force is only truly that when it acts for the corporation, its shareholders, and employees.”

Being on the right side is a matter of luck. If my luck had been slightly worse, I might not have discovered Project Metzgerhunt in Belwether’s database.

If Walter had been slightly less lucky, the special operations agents might have betrayed him after learning the truth, before it was too late. It’s a matter of luck.

“Anyway, could you share any information about assassins targeting Polaris? I am her direct security guard after all.”

“Such an efficiency freak… Fine, that’s better. We’ve identified some who’ve been wanted by T-Entertainment, but with the crowds, the rest…”

I catch the virtual screen that flies into my view. They’re all fugitives from T-Entertainment but not wanted by Belwether.

Conflicts in the entertainment industry strictly remain within the entertainment industry’s boundaries. Quite thoroughly, in fact.

Since I’ve entered a line where outsiders aren’t welcome, all I need to do is learn and leave. When I leave is up to me.

Despite returning to the entertainment industry after so long, not being able to use my two high-frequency blades felt like a disadvantage. But it’s not my loss.

The issue of the long-absent Gardner returning to protect Polaris again could bring in massive ratings—it’s the industry’s loss, not mine.

I’m becoming somewhat familiar with this industry’s logic. Becoming familiar with their logic means being able to breathe in their atmosphere. I remove my display helmet and smile.

“That means the exposed assassins are well-known enough that other assassins recognize them. So attention will be focused on them. They’ll be watching to see how the exposed ones are dealt with.”

My job is simply to deal with them. Every action has a reaction. They’ll start moving one way or another, and movement is noticeable.

Detecting that is the job of T-Entertainment, Panacea Meditech, and Belwether. You could say Belwether has almost been saddled with it.

“When those who believe they can survive in a city where three corporations are racking their brains get dealt with, the others will move too. Whether they try to dig in, run away—won’t all of it be noticeable?”

Even Polaris had identified at least a list of gray individuals. T-Entertainment’s legal team couldn’t be less efficient than a single Polaris, so they must have already done some identification.

Manager Rozashan—team leader in that industry—nods.

“Ha. I really envy your confidence. May I make a slightly rude joke?”

I nodded lightly. Rozashan grinned and said:

“Killing Polaris pays more than protecting her… but protecting Polaris comes with her handshake and smile as additional compensation. I hope you choose the more valuable option.”

It’s not that rude. In this age of materialism, it’s natural that someone willing to pour boiling gold into their own body to become an idol and lead people would be that beautiful.

As I examined the list, there was one strange entry. While normal entries consisted of one personal profile and one criminal record… one item was about thirty pages long.

It was a gang. Apparently used by T-Entertainment for dirty work, but wouldn’t it be better to use company insiders for dirty work? Information leaking externally is the biggest security vulnerability.

The power dynamics within a single organization are quite absolute. The range of tasks a megacorporation employee can accept is greater than what a gang member can.

I still don’t understand why they use such proxies. It feels similar to not understanding the Las Vegas Strip.

Either way, they’re a fairly skilled armed group. Belwether would have already mowed down this kind of grass.

The report stating “No explicit signs of intent to harm Polaris, but negatively affecting LA’s public safety” suggests they’ve been thrown out as bait.

Why would a gang accept a job that would obviously get them killed? LA gangs weren’t high-level, but that’s not because LA is peaceful.

It’s because Belwether has determined that’s where the weeds end. They might believe someone will help them escape after causing trouble. A futile belief.

Then I should take the bait first. Whether it’s for attracting attention or if they’re actually assassins sent to kill Polaris, dealing with all of them is all that matters. I’ll handle this first.

I nod immediately to call Stephanet. Stephanet tends to respond a bit quicker to familiar names. Just quick enough not to raise discrimination issues.

“This pretty and lovely Stephanet is unavailable as she’s preparing to attend Polaris’s concert, Arthur. Leave any work-related matters and go. She’s really busy.”

How long should I keep calling that artificial intelligence? Maybe until yesterday. If an AI that appreciates music and art couldn’t enjoy Polaris’s voice, I would have said it lacks taste.

“It’s related to Polaris’s security.”

“Hmm. You know there’s no employee-citizen who pours as much affection into this city as you do, Rottweiler? What do you need, an assault team?”

She jokes about sending an actual assault team while having no intention of considering it. Nevertheless, Stephanet is an AI. She couldn’t ignore procedures and wield tyranny as she pleased.

“Joking aside. When Polaris and T-Entertainment people came in, it seems a gang from their side also entered, and they’re causing trouble. You’re not planning to assign this elsewhere, are you?”

“We did have a strategy meeting. They have a fairly high cyberization ratio and seem experienced in combat, so there was talk of letting the mobile teams handle them to teach them how to deal with enhanced humans… but isn’t that mismatched?”

Is there meaning in calling it a “strategy meeting”? I chuckled briefly at Stephanet’s words, then nodded.

“It is mismatched. Still, they didn’t come here on their own wanting to cause trouble. I’m going to send a message to whoever planted that gang here.”

“That doesn’t sound bad. But don’t get involved in the management rights dispute. The moment you step in, it looks like Belwether is subtly interfering in another company’s internal affairs.”

The entertainment industry is one where corporate wars break out twice a day, and new megacorporations emerge once a month. There’s not much reason for a stable industry like Belwether to get entangled.

“I hope they don’t try to drag me in. A megacorporation chairman wouldn’t make plans simple enough for me to avoid just by trying. I’ll do my best to stay out of it, so wait for me.”

“Should I prepare a bath and meal while waiting for you?”

“Shouldn’t you first consider whether Belwether rental apartments even have bathtubs before saying that?”

It wasn’t really a home suitable for a freelancer. It was perfect for a regular Night Watch employee, and I didn’t need anything larger. After exchanging pointless jokes with Stephanet, I got back on my bike.

After waving leisurely to Rozashan, I headed toward the beachside ruins where the gang had set up. It’s close to where Eve lives. Excessive gunfire there was out of the question.

But as my bike arrived, gang members glanced at me nervously, and then someone rushed out. It was the gang member who had been drawing markings in front of Eve’s house.

“Freelancer! Freelancer! Damn, thank goodness. For the past few days, some guys have taken over the mansion where the Ashwood guys used to be and have been causing trouble! They’re called a gang, but…”

“They probably don’t look like a gang. High-end equipment, thorough modifications. Got any information?”

He knows I have some attachment or need for someone living in this area. It’s natural that he’d try to act as an assistant or informant to remove this rolling stone.

“Exactly! They’re causing such a ruckus that we couldn’t even scout them, and they even have a hacking team! Harper’s guys approached with guns and just collapsed… And the boss was a woman. Her arms and legs…”

As he gestured as if trying to describe something large and started searching for photos on his computing assist device, I heard the sound of specially treated fabric brushing against itself, designed not to make proper noise.

From behind. I draw Small Misdeed and turn around. The muzzle of a submachine gun similar to what Rozashan had shown me was coming around the corner. I mentally trace the silhouette.

Urgent whispers from beyond the wall, and the faint remnant of a detoxified agent lingering in the air. The sound of a selector switch turning. Either a T-Entertainment assassin or a gang member. I slowly shift my aim.

Better not to be crouching. I turn the selector switch of Small Misdeed, loaded with anti-enhancement armor-piercing rounds, to single shot and pull the trigger. The heavy gunshot seems to shake the streets of this ruined town.

The gang member who was selecting photos in front of me quickly covers his head and hides behind a broken utility pole. Even knowing I was the one who fired, he doesn’t come out. Cowardice is an excellent trait for survival.

I approach the fallen humanoid silhouette beyond the wall corner. They seemed to be suppressing their pain-filled groans with labored breathing, so I fire another shot at torso height.

This time a scream erupts. I didn’t enjoy it. I just thought they were almost subdued.

I move at a leisurely pace. Preparing to receive the flechettes that might pour out as soon as I turn the corner, I swing around.

Flechettes pour all over my body from a submachine gun with terrible accuracy but top-tier rate of fire, complete with a display helmet received directly from Mr. Günter.

The armor plates weren’t penetrated, but a few flechettes had lodged in the gaps of my black suit, making those areas of skin sting a bit, but that was all.

While Type 4’s external protection might not be perfect, its internal protection is nearly flawless.

Before me, a woman with white hair tied in a single ponytail reaching her shoulders was fumbling at her waist for a new magazine. The magazine belt that Small Misdeed had penetrated was rolling on the ground.

As her hand searching for a magazine seemed to realize it was only drawing out sticky blood soaked in drugs flowing from the gunshot wound in her waist, she raised her left hand. She was trying to open her wrist.

I wasn’t curious about what weapon was in her wrist. I grabbed her outstretched left hand and slammed it backward.

The connection between the prosthetic arm’s elbow and wrist broke, sending sparks flying. I partially pulled out the sparking prosthetic.

As she began to convulse from the pain of having her shoulder connection physically torn out, I stepped on her chest and pinned her to the asphalt. The pain of forcibly blocking her breathing would be greater than the arm pain.

Only then did the noisy thrashing stop briefly, and before the pool of blood grew larger, I spoke. Even a dying person’s artificial eyes don’t lose their light. They only turn off after death, like machines.

“If you want to say you took the bait, say it now. If you want to say that all the assassins in Los Angeles will know my face, fine. Go ahead.”

I grab her neck and lift her body. She struggles and strikes my head with her damaged prosthetic arm, but it wasn’t even enough to turn my head. While pretending to resist meaninglessly, she was moving her other hand behind her back.

I draw a high-frequency tactical dagger, gently power it up, and stab it into the inside of her intact forearm. After damaging the prosthetic’s operating system, I pull it out. She’s at least on par with N-Entertainment’s mercenaries who can’t escape.

“This is an eviction notice from Belwether. Whoever your backers are, it means don’t cause trouble in Belwether’s city and get out… but that doesn’t apply to you. You’re no longer T-Entertainment’s bait but Belwether’s example.”

With a slight increase in pressure on the hand gripping her neck, I crush her implant-filled neck along the cervical spine and throw her down. The gang member hiding behind the utility pole hurriedly approaches the wall corner. After giving him a brief glance, I speak.

“Is there anything else I should take from this woman?”

He cautiously pointed to her artificial eyes. He seemed more afraid of me than of the attack he had nearly suffered.

“I, I’ve seen them use eye recognition to enter. You could probably break down the door, but wouldn’t you n-need them?”

After patting his shoulder a couple of times, I bend down. I easily extract both artificial eyes that he hadn’t even noticed. I hold them in my hand, shake them a few times to remove any unpleasant fluids, and tell him:

“Useful information. But seriously… look for a job somewhere outside the ruins. Living here, you’ll either become grass clippings when Belwether mows the lawn or end up like this, right?”

He nodded quite desperately. If not caught in the act, one can presume innocence. Even if not, I could at least think of him as a cheap thief who warned about being careful around Eve’s house.

The gang member who came to give me information sent me a half-cropped photo, taken in hiding, of a woman with prosthetic limbs that didn’t match the caliber of her original limbs, like industrial prosthetics, then ran away.

It didn’t seem like an efficient structure. If they were going to use prosthetics like this, it would be better to use full-body cyberization. Anyway, it was time to take the bait and leave a message.