Ch.263Work Record No. 037 – Keep Your Feet on the Ground but Fill Your Eyes with Stars (5)

The inquisitors of Hollowed Creek are not easy to distinguish. They all wear the same reinforced suits, and they all either have the old, withered face of their cult leader or a black screen covering their faces.

Still, if one could tell them apart, one might discover who is Hollowed Creek’s security vulnerability. I make a mental note to ask the Dvoraks if they could install a simple surveillance system, but I’ll reserve judgment for now.

Of course, my holiday isn’t over yet. Being a freelancer means there’s no real distinction between holidays and workdays anyway. Since Eve has to go to work tomorrow, I should enjoy today. As it happens, there’s a place I’ve been wanting to visit.

I search for contacts on my computing assistant. After finding Dean and Silverlining’s contact information, I establish a connection. The call connects almost immediately. Dean’s voice always carries a relaxed tone—the ease of a retired man.

“Hey, Arthur. What’s up? Ah, finally taking a holiday?”

“Second day of my holiday, actually. I’ve mentioned visiting many times but never made it, so I thought I’d drop by today. Is Silverlining free today?”

“Work? I only did one job early this morning… but never mind. No need to bore you with details. Come on over! Oh, are you bringing any guests?”

I reach out my hand to Eve, who’s coming down the stairs. She naturally interlaces her fingers with mine and steps into my embrace. After sharing the communication channel with her, her voice reaches me simultaneously through my head and ears.

“What’s this? Who are you inviting me to meet, Arthur? Dean Ramos of Silverlining Mercenary Agency… Never heard of that company.”

“He’s an ex-T-Enter freelancer I met during a job. He seems to be living quite a good life for enjoying holidays, so I thought we’d visit today if you’re okay with it.”

Eve’s giggling sounds twice, which isn’t unpleasant at all. While she wraps her arm around my wrist in reality, her voice through the communication channel sounds perfectly clear.

“To think I’d see you taking two consecutive days off. I was already happy that you set aside one day for me, but if these holidays keep increasing, I might get greedy.”

“Even if you get greedy, Ms. Eve, who works five days a week, wouldn’t you max out at two days?”

For that practical comment, I get my nape bitten once more, but Eve nods without much resistance. It takes quite some time to travel from one ruined district to another.

Eve tends to nag more with people she’s close to. She even explained maintenance procedures again to Bill, telling him that a mechanical body is more useful than a hologram projector but harder to maintain.

Is it because she killed him, leaving only that awkward body behind? While full-body cyberization is genuinely difficult to maintain, it seemed mostly due to the former reason. The term “father-in-law” isn’t just a joke, it seems.

After saying goodbye to Bill, Eve and I head out to the streets of the ruined district. Gunfire continues as if gang warfare is breaking out, but no bullets fly near this villa.

The scavenger I told to find a proper job last time isn’t visible today either. Believing in the slimmest possibility that he took my advice, I start crossing the road. Eve’s voice reaches me.

“Arthur, I think we need to stop by the office first. One of my shirts is missing, and I just remembered I left it in Tina’s room when I had to change into body armor last time. Is that okay?”

“Of course it’s fine. We weren’t going to drive along the smelly coastal road anyway.”

I naturally change direction toward the apartment complex where Nightscape’s office is located. However, the usually quiet area is bustling with activity. Mostly journalists.

If it were just journalists, I would have assumed some celebrity had shown up for whatever reason—unlike Polaris, that wouldn’t concern me. But no. Belwether temple uniforms were visible here and there.

The cleaning team? No, not them. The Legal Assassination Department’s Investigation Division and Security Department’s Mobile Division. What happened? After parking my bike in Nightscape’s parking lot, I naturally switch helmets.

“Seeing both Investigation and Mobile Divisions here suggests something’s happened. I’ll go check it out. What’s good about being a freelancer? Especially a Belwether-certified one?”

“That you can enter any crime scene as long as you don’t mess it up? Since it’s near the company… please find out what’s going on.”

After nodding lightly, I rush through the journalists who pay no attention to me and arrive at the scene. I show my freelancer license to the Mobile Division officer who tries to stop me.

“Belwether-certified freelancer. Call sign…”

“Boogeyman. Is there anyone in this city who doesn’t know that call sign? But usually, after guarding someone like Polaris…”

“The essence of being a freelancer doesn’t change, does it? If something happens, I need to investigate separately.”

The Mobile Division officer lets out a small chuckle at my words. After connecting through a communication channel, he guides me into the scene. Even through my helmet, I can smell cheap spray paint.

On a completely wrecked vehicle that had crashed into a wall, the words “Dirty perverts” were written in spray paint. Fluorescent pink spray paint.

“At dawn, some people attacked a passing Half & Half Company executive and did this. So while the Mobile Division was focused here…”

He pushes a virtual screen into my field of vision. I can see the Half & Half Company building surrounded by walls. Similar writing was on those distinctive high walls.

This high-speed era seems to have produced quite the moralist. They didn’t just graffiti the walls and run away. Cracks were visible all over the walls, and the bodies of security personnel were slumped inside the wall.

I don’t particularly like Half & Half Company’s business either. If clones with self-awareness can be produced, like the woman Nightscape rescued, even the bitches of Sin City would have stepped up.

But what I dislike even more are those who believe that ramming a vehicle into such a company’s gate and then shooting a bit will make the world better. It’s insulting.

Personally insulting, and insulting to all the values I’ve lived by. Not everyone in the world is stupid enough to try changing the world one step at a time.

The reason I don’t shoot every Hollowed Creek inquisitor I see in Los Angeles isn’t because I don’t hate them. It’s because nothing would change.

“They disabled nearby surveillance networks and hit Half & Half Company. They just run brothels, so they shouldn’t have made many enemies, but they got hit by some skilled operators. Any suspects come to mind?”

Who would hold a grudge against Half & Half Company? Their employees were generally kind to customers, and their escorts were clones with minimal self-awareness, so they wouldn’t have faced ridicule.

“Nothing comes to mind immediately, but I need to see more. What measures is the company taking?”

“Ah. They said they’ll increase Mobile Division patrols for small and medium-sized businesses in Los Angeles. Most people stop when Belwether makes a move anyway.”

“Judging by the graffiti left at the scene, their hatred for Half & Half Company is intense, so there probably won’t be additional crimes even if we leave them alone.”

Only vigilantes show this level of hostility in crimes not motivated by personal grudges. But even such vigilantes generally attacked only when the victim had clearly done something wrong.

Half & Half Company, while making money from brothels and clone manufacturing, hadn’t caused any problems recently. Unless someone had a grudge against every company in the world, this must be a crime motivated by personal vendetta.

The former is a thought only cheap revolutionaries would have. If you want to change the world, you should present ideals and visions, not guns and bombs. Weapons are tools for killing people, not changing the world.

When nationalist influence was still somewhat alive, there were many such cheap revolutionaries. People who set off bombs at Belwether events and carried out mass shootings.

But the mega-corporations didn’t make stupid moves. They eliminated those terrorists and, instead of responding in the same way, focused on revitalizing the cities they had purchased.

When terrorism occurs, they wholeheartedly mourn the victims, cleanly deal with the criminals, and then continue toward their original destination. They repeat. Once more. Continuously.

The result of that repetition is what we have now. The mega-corporations, once complete outsiders, have become part of people’s lives. Trying to bring them down means destroying people’s lives.

Those who don’t understand this fact, the so-called “revolutionaries,” have become worthless criminals defined simply as terrorists. They’ve become more obsolete in Los Angeles than gangs.

So, there are no new revolutionaries. What mega-corporation would hire these cheap revolutionaries and give them positions? It would be impossible unless it’s the entertainment industry, which uses every possible method.

If they had survived even in such places, they might have raised new revolutionaries, but this was entering the realm of speculation upon speculation. For now, I nod to the Mobile Division officer.

“Still, call me if anything happens. I just got a new weapon and I’m looking for a chance to use it. It would be perfect if I could test the weapon while protecting innocent people.”

Of course, no one can be completely innocent in this world. For Nightscape’s safety, I once stabbed and killed a Half & Half Company employee who was merely a bit rough but otherwise innocent. I don’t forget that.

“Understood. I’ll report that Boogeyman will provide support if similar incidents occur. Is today your day off?”

“Yes, it is. I was heading to another destination when I saw the journalists gathering. Well, see you next time.”

He gives me a three-finger salute, which I return with the same gesture. Since I didn’t want to be followed by journalists, I recalculate my route and send the new path to my communication channel with Eve.

She can take the original route we planned, and I’ll take a detour, so we’ll naturally meet up. I decide to speed up a bit for once.

I choose roads with little vehicle traffic and accelerate. If someone knew my destination, they could chase me no matter how fast I go, but not if they don’t know where I’m heading.

After making a big loop, I briefly stop to change helmets again. The Boogeyman’s face is only necessary when working. I naturally head toward the ruined district near Malibu.

I meet up with my Eve in front of a house with a sign that reads “Silverlining Mercenary Agency.” She was looking around at one of the few intact villas in the ruined district with curiosity. She turns her gaze toward me.

“It couldn’t have survived that war, so someone must have rebuilt it… I guess that’s the ex-T-Enter freelancer you mentioned?”

I nod lightly and am about to ring the doorbell when Dean walks out from inside the villa. He’s in his characteristic furry leather coat and sunglasses. Two high-frequency blades click at his waist.

Proudly displaying his full-body modifications, when he lifts his sunglasses, it’s clear his eyes are also artificial. I lightly bump his extended fist with mine.

“You’re here, Arthur. And this is…?”

“You know how to use the word ‘person’? Eve, this is Dean. Dean, this is Eve. She’s a former company colleague from before I became a freelancer, and now she’s…”

Eve naturally covers my mouth. I shrug my shoulders to indicate this is how I live, and Eve speaks for me.

“I thought you were going to say something embarrassing again, Arthur. Anyway, now we’re… in a relationship. No need to explain further to someone we don’t know…”

Dean bursts into laughter at our interaction. He pushes my shoulder lightly and says:

“If there’s more to explain… you’re living happily, Killshot. Come in. Silverlining Agency is waiting for you.”

Dean speaks with uncharacteristic politeness. He usually jumps onto the villa and walks, but today he properly passes through the villa toward the backyard. Inside the villa… it was strangely quiet.

The open first floor was quiet, and while there was a way up to the second floor, not a sound could be heard from there. It seemed to be the company’s space, but sound-proofing installations were rare.

Not dwelling on it too long, I head to the backyard. Silverlining Agency was waiting today as well. The pale hacker, not entering the water and sipping on a juice pack, waves at me.

Champ, whose body emits a subtle golden glow, was showing off in his swimwear. Brendan is actually a timid person but likes to put on airs. That’s not a bad thing.

Champ, who was posing on the diving board, slips when he sees us. It must be quite difficult for that expensive body to lose balance and slip. Water splashes.

Eve lets out a small laugh, and Dean chuckles as Brendan emerges from the water with an embarrassed smile, creating a splash as he jumps out of the pool.

“Ah, damn. Is this the first impression you’re going to make on our first guest after Killshot, Bredy? Former New Magers champion and… Silverlining’s… what should I call you? Combat elephant?”

“Capability and intelligence of a combat elephant.”

The pale hacker, who had been looking on glumly, made a rather scathing, or rude, remark. As Talos had said, even Brendan in reinforced armor would be far inferior to Mr. James.

Perhaps to cover his embarrassment, Brendan brought two bottles of beer from a box and offered them to us. As I casually accepted, he naturally bumped his two fists together, making a clanking sound.

It seemed he had injected a material that hardens in response to impact into his skin layer until it had a golden sheen. He extended his hand to my Eve for a handshake. She lightly grasps and shakes it.

“I’m Brendan Hunter. I may have looked a bit foolish, but, well, this doesn’t happen every day… Anyway, welcome! If you’re Killshot’s guest, we welcome you too.”

“I already think Boogeyman is somewhat cringeworthy, so why do you have another call sign? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you called Killshot before.”

Dean wraps his arm lightly around my shoulder. He chuckles once more.

“Do you think I don’t know how T-Enter handles their business, Killshot? I’ve seen them blow away gangs they used as pawns and fillet them like fish. Doesn’t it suit you perfectly?”

I sigh deeply and nod. For now, I decide to allow only Silverlining to use this somewhat cringeworthy nickname. After all, I came here to enjoy myself.

Meeting Noah and going on a date with Eve at the Shard was about keeping my feet on the ground. Talking with Pastor Bill and preparing to recalibrate Hollowed Creek’s weapons is about looking at the stars.

Meeting Silverlining feels… somehow like neither. I could feel a sensation similar to when I used to see hatred-filled Kanun rising from somewhere in a corner of my heart.