Ch.246Work Record #035 – A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing (1)

Dean was quite stubborn. He understood precisely that they wanted survival of the fittest, and he gladly humiliated them by claiming the undisputed position of the strong and then showing mercy.

I have the same level of understanding, but I possess a different kind of stubbornness. Perhaps it could be called the golden rule. If they want survival of the fittest, I’ll gladly give them survival of the fittest.

While Dean humiliated them by showing mercy, I’ll humiliate them by seeing how many of them truly stand by the term “survival of the fittest” until the end. I’ll see how many genuinely believe in that word that represents primitiveness and barbarism.

It’s time to weed out the wolves hiding among the sheep. The reason wolves among sheep are dangerous isn’t because they devour sheep with their strong jaws and sharp teeth. It’s because they infect the sheep.

They make it seem like one can live in this world through ferocity and greed alone. They go around proclaiming that living through cooperation, mutual trust, and kindness is foolish.

No. They’re the foolish ones. This is the more normal way of life. This is the path to prosperity. They are things that are better not existing than existing.

I gather my thoughts slowly and strengthen my resolve. After spending all of yesterday with Arthur-2… honestly speaking, I had plenty of laughs thanks to playing with Polaris, so today I needed to get some work done.

I did bring my display helmet, and I packed my bulletproof vest in the bike’s storage compartment, but I didn’t wear the black suit or make any further combat preparations. I already knew the list of assassins.

Most of them had already entered Los Angeles and created temporary lives, like establishing fragmentary alibis. Everyone is wary of freelancers in black suits, but no one suspects a twenty-three-year-old in a short-sleeved shirt.

Fortunately, my face isn’t well-known yet. Since becoming a freelancer, I haven’t had many opportunities to work with my face exposed. Not many people who know the Boogeyman also know Arthur Murphy.

Before leaving the house in casual clothes, I decided to take in this surreal scenery one more time. Eve was lying in my bed, but in the living room, Polaris was asleep holding Arthur-2.

And Theo, who hadn’t slept a wink—honestly, I questioned whether he even needed sleep—was watching over Polaris. Seeing me about to leave, he approached in his heavy reinforcement suit.

“Going out to handle business, Boogeyman? You look like… you’re just heading out to a convenience store.”

“I do need to visit a convenience store. Number 37 on the list is an assassin who entered Los Angeles as a convenience store owner and even bought tickets for this concert. I also need to visit a meat restaurant.”

It was an ordinary cultured meat all-you-can-eat restaurant. The only distinctive feature was that they placed the cultivation machine where customers could see it to prove that the meat truly was unlimited. Just an ordinary establishment.

There was an assassin working there under a temporary identity. Belwether grants employee-citizenship to anyone who shows a willingness to work and doesn’t cause problems.

As easily as it’s given, the punishment for abusing that employee-citizenship is definite. That assassin was already on the watch list as a suspect of intentional abuse of employee-citizenship.

If claiming to be from the wasteland was a lie, they’d be put under surveillance. Anyway, if they tried to harm Polaris, Belwether would have stepped in to handle it.

Belwether is always a safety net. It’s a place where people who quietly work for efficiency gather, even when everything is falling apart. When such people gather, sometimes things stop falling apart.

That’s the image of Belwether I believe in and follow. When not involved with mutants, Belwether hasn’t changed from that image one bit. I can trust them this time too.

“Can you handle this without getting your face known? T-Entertainment holds grudges. As you know, they’ve even waged corporate wars against Belwether. I can help you now, but…”

“Then I should gladly visit the chairman of Talent and Tradition Company and ask to be hired. I’ll offer to resolve their management disputes for free and take care of all those grudge-holders, shouldn’t I?”

I knew very well how free a person could become with the backing of a mega-corporation’s chairman. I’ve already handled a coup once. A second time wouldn’t be difficult.

Theo looked at me for a moment before turning his head. I could see mechanical devices connecting to his reinforcement suit at the back of his neck. It seemed to be both a reinforcement suit and a life support system.

“You have similar eyes to Ms. Polaris when she’s in command. Honestly, I couldn’t understand how such… intimidation could emanate from such a small frame.”

“You shouldn’t judge someone who can be a breakwater against the waves of survival of the fittest crashing into Talent and Tradition Company by their frame, should you? I’ll be back.”

After waving lightly to him, I left the house. I headed outside, hearing the strong building winds shaking the sealed windows of the apartment complex.

Under the hazy sky, I rode toward the convenience store where my first target was located. The order in which I handled the targets was completely random. If it weren’t random, they might be able to predict it somehow.

After parking my bike diagonally next to the store’s door, I opened it and entered. The air was heavily mixed with the scent of air freshener. At a small counter near the door were boxes containing low-quality artificial skin.

They were sold to people who had modifications like the ones on the back of my hand, allowing them to cover their artificial skin. Cheap artificial skin could get scratched even from brushing against a chair, so it was quite a popular item. There was a customer even now.

My target was only the store owner. An assassin who had deliberately entered by setting up a store here. Someone no less important than other assassins, if not more so. I entered without showing any signs of caution.

Instead of naturally approaching the counter, I waited in the beverage aisle, watching the customer buy a pack of artificial skin that roughly matched their skin color. After the customer left, I approached the counter with a can of coffee.

After putting down the can, I glanced over the array of cigarettes and liquid cannabis behind the counter, then looked at the simple gas masks next to them. I turned on the recording function of my voice module and spoke leisurely.

“Give me a Delta-dash-three type purification canister. It’s the one that protects against smog and basic chemical weapons, right?”

“Ah, of course. Seems like you’re a mercenary? This one, unlike others…”

His words cut off. In Los Angeles, which follows Belwether standards, it would be called D-type, not Delta type. Only the entertainment industry, where companies all use alphabetical initials, calls it Delta.

“Number 37, someone must have taught you repeatedly that habits shouldn’t emerge during impersonation, yet you reveal your identity so easily?”

At my admonishing tone, he showed a momentarily confused expression as he was about to naturally reveal his prosthetic hand. He briefly gestured toward the store’s storage room with his chin.

“Follow me. Don’t you know that those so-called official gangs were all slaughtered and had their brains extracted by a single freelancer? Soon Belwether, or Panacea Meditech… when things get bad, you know.”

He followed me into the store’s storage room with a puzzled expression, despite his confusion. It was a place without CCTV, and it would be good for securing CCTV recordings to escape. He finally spoke with a sigh in his voice.

“I know. The loyalist Copyright and two others will start hunting. But, um, could you reveal your identity? I know that more than one person has come in, but the higher-ups…”

“Arthur Murphy, Belwether-certified freelancer.”

I proudly revealed my identity since he asked for it. His expression briefly showed curiosity, but it didn’t last long. He immediately tore off the artificial skin on his right arm and swung a hydraulic fist at me.

I caught the fist that seemed to slide through the air at a glance. Although I was pushed back, his strength wasn’t greater than mine, with my tendons replaced by metal coils. Now he would be tested.

Weeding out the unqualified is something to be enjoyed. It’s painful to watch those who are too afraid to push forward with their beliefs, yet commit evil acts in the name of those beliefs.

It’s disgusting that cries that could change the world are being used merely to create pathetic tragedies in this high-speed era. I grabbed his fist and moved forward, twisting his arm.

With the jammer on, I grabbed his forearm with my other hand. Without giving him time to cut off the neural feedback, I twisted his arm beyond its range of motion, shattering the metal forearm.

Finding his screams unpleasant, I planted my fist in his face. His body lurched heavily. He began to back away, covering his mouth, among the spilled inventory behind him.

While N-Entertainment’s mercenaries had to fight somehow in such situations, T-Entertainment’s assassins didn’t need to. He hastily pulled something out from among the inventory. A pin.

It wouldn’t be a grenade. Committing acts of terrorism in Belwether’s urban area would be as stupid as trying to assassinate Polaris. His voice, mixed with crying, could be heard.

“Why, why isn’t the communication working, damn it!”

Thick gray smoke began to burst from where the pin had been pulled from the wall. It was really just smoke. I could hear his footsteps as he frantically tried to escape through the back door.

The smell of oil leaking from his shattered hydraulic fist wafted through the air. Like a hunting dog, I chased after him, grabbed him by the hair, and dragged him back into the storage room. Unlike Dean, I said:

“Do you know the story of Marduk, who killed Tiamat and created the world from her corpse? The entertainment industry was also born out of struggle, like that legend. From the belief that the strong shouldn’t bow their heads beneath the weak.”

I turned on the ventilation fan to let the smoke from the smoke bomb escape outside. Holding his head with both hands, I began to speak. It was they who had imposed the standard of survival of the fittest. It was time for them to take responsibility for that standard.

“What the hell are you talking about?!”

“Survival of the fittest, that’s what you guys like. Was Polaris weaker than you, so you tried to devour her?”

“That, that fucking soft bitch is coloring the entire industry the way she wants with her head full of flower gardens! That goes against survival of the fittest…”

I grabbed his intact forearm. I gripped it with force. His face began to turn blue, and the part in my grip first turned red, then black. I applied more force.

The sound of bone cracking—thud, crack—rang out. It didn’t last long. Soon the sound of bone shattering echoed. Once again, screams erupted, but I paid no attention. I threw down the limp arm.

“This is what should be called soft. And that woman doesn’t have even an inch of flower garden in her head. She’s a woman who believes there’s no hope in the world. So, in that hopeless world…”

Despite having no way to resist now, he hadn’t fully embraced the concept of survival of the fittest to his core. He struggled. He was an ordinary person who valued his life more than his beliefs.

It was infuriating that this ordinary person acted as if he had the right to judge the entire world just because he claimed to believe in the logic of survival of the fittest. This is personal disgust.

“She’s trying to nurture something at least better than the damn war of all against all, and you’re calling that soft. Accept it, Number 37. Didn’t you say the weak should be devoured?”

I didn’t pull any punches, not even small ones. He used his fist as a weapon, so I also took a light stance and planted my fist in him. I hit him repeatedly, not bothering to care about his attempts to block with his broken arm.

By the third punch, he had lowered his guard, though he had been trying to cover his face with his broken arm and damaged prosthetic. Far from accepting it, he screamed. I put my weight into my fist, and the screaming stopped.

After removing the storage device from the CCTV, I headed to the bathroom. I washed my bloodied hands, tore off the artificial skin, and after adjusting my suit, covered myself with the spare artificial skin I had bought.

I used their logic and spoke their language. I devoured him but kept his voice. It would definitely be useful. I needed to learn as much as possible while killing all these assassins.

Why did this assassin use his fist as a weapon? Compared to Rozashan’s thermite grenade launcher, it was incredibly inefficient. There was only one advantage… when covered with skin, it didn’t look like a weapon.

In the case of Rozashan’s grenade launcher, it was clearly identifiable because the wrist separated, but with this fist, if one was prepared to use it only once while covered with artificial skin, there was no way to detect it.

It seems they’re willing to sacrifice everything else for stealth and the power to assassinate one person. Assassination is straightforward. I searched the convenience store storage room a bit more, focusing mainly behind the shelves of inventory.

The smoke bomb pin was also behind the inventory. I was sure something else would be there too, and as I looked, I noticed one of the panels forming the wall had been newly attached. The color difference was minimal.

Keeping my body as far away from the wall as possible, I grabbed the edge of the panel and tore it off. Unlike my expectations, there was no gunshot or explosion sound, so it wasn’t a booby trap. Inside was an equipment box.

The box had many scratches from being opened and closed multiple times. There were also traces of the lock being hastily unlocked. There was no smell of plastic explosives. After unlocking it, I lifted it slightly.

I didn’t feel any wires being pulled. I opened the box completely. There was no booby trap. I checked the contents. The largest item was another prosthetic hand. This one seemed to have a different hidden weapon installed.

There was also a pistol with an integrated silencer, offering excellent noise reduction. It wasn’t so quiet that someone standing next to you wouldn’t notice, but it was quiet enough not to make your ears ring.

There were several storage devices containing training programs, perhaps to keep skills sharp. I took everything. Finding Copyright’s training programs would definitely be helpful.

There was also a small disc-shaped electric shocker, similar to what Dean used to use. It was a device that just needed to be charged and thrown to stick. This was like a candy store.

Only after gathering everything did I call the Belwether cleanup team. I had already been using the assassins’ logic from the beginning, but now it was time to steal and use their tools as well.