Ch.289Work Record No. 041 – Irresistible (2)

Returning to the villa, I look down at Eve who gently wraps her arms around my neck, seemingly sensing my presence. As she stretches up on her tiptoes, a smile naturally forms at the corners of my mouth.

She believes that by clinging to me like this, she can make me stop working, even if just for a moment. Actually, she doesn’t really believe that. It’s nothing more or less than the natural affection she’s come to show me.

“When you suddenly left after getting a call from someone, you disappeared for about a month without a word about what was happening. Is it going to be like that this time too? If so, let me cling to you a bit longer.”

Usually, my only option would be to tell her it can’t be helped, but fortunately this time I have more options. I lower my head to touch my forehead against hers.

“No. This time it’s something I have plenty of time to prepare for. I should have enough time to take care of everything you mentioned before I go. And I won’t double-book myself.”

The images I created would need time to properly infiltrate the minds of the Los Soñadores gang and settle in the right places. That wasn’t even the entirety of the preparation.

“I suppose that’s not bad. So, what’s the job this time? Is this another case where you have to say it’s classified information and move on? I understand there might not be any information you can disclose, but…”

“Still, it’s natural to worry, right? I know. I can’t tell you about the content of the job, but… if Turner & Tucker starts making a fuss about something impossible happening, that’s probably me.”

My Eve rises a little higher on her tiptoes and lightly presses her lips against mine. As our lips part, a faint smile hangs on her lips, as if it might slip away if I don’t look at it right now.

“If you put it that way, I’d believe you’re working miracles somewhere even if Turner & Tucker doesn’t say anything foolish. After all, those who believe without seeing are the happy ones.”

“Then… should I go look for a mercenary company to provide security as if nothing’s happening right now? It’ll take quite a while since they live in the ruins on the opposite side.”

My Eve nodded briefly. After telling Tisha, who was peeking at us from beside the living room door, to take good care of everyone, I walked out.

I put her on my bike and ride toward Silver Lining. Cutting through the city toward Malibu, a place filled with both good and bad memories for me. Still, it’s also where I got one over on Walter.

Adrian became a hero who saved the branch. He didn’t actually do it, but reality wasn’t important. He’s a symbol. A symbol that even if Bellwether malfunctions, someone will risk their life to keep the three-finger oath.

I will be cited as an example in the heroic tales of this non-existent Adrian. By pointing out the contradictions in Bellwether’s mutant hunts and making Bellwether pursue pure efficiency free from prejudice.

If that happens, people will think of Adrian whenever they hear my name. They’ll think of Walter, and he will forever be mentioned as the villain in the story of a hero who doesn’t even exist.

Bellwether people won’t name their children Walter, and for efficiency maximalists, Walter’s name will be like a needle stuck under their fingernails. It won’t be forgotten or censored.

Savoring the sweetness of that revenge, I stop in front of the Silver Lining building. Following my Eve’s gaze as she marvels at the intact building standing in the ruins, I press the doorbell… and Dean jumps down from the rooftop.

Once again wearing stylish sunglasses pushed down firmly, this time instead of his usual leather jacket, he wore a glossy bright yellow jacket with neon lines glowing around the collar, paired with jeans.

He spread his arms wide as he saw me, like he was greeting an old friend. His excited voice rang out.

“I told them to buy beer for your share too, Killshot! No, make that enough for two more people! Hey, Champ! Throw three bottles of beer down here!”

As soon as he said that, three beer bottles came flying from the rooftop, spinning gently through the air. Dean caught all three bottles simultaneously with a showy movement, then handed one to each of us.

My Eve burst into soft laughter watching the scene. Dean was someone who appeared frivolous, or perhaps wanted to appear frivolous. A person willing to seem lighthearted when seriousness isn’t called for is a good person.

“Ah, it’s the person I met last time. Your name was definitely…”

Dean bowed to my Eve with slightly exaggerated movements. As he bent forward, the two high-frequency blades at his waist, named “Social Cutters,” became more visible.

“Let me properly introduce myself now. I’m Dean Ramos. I also have the nickname Neon Snake, but I’m not so committed to the concept that I suddenly go ‘shaaark.’ I’m Arthur’s… wait, we are friends, right?”

After shrugging my shoulders, I nodded lightly at him as he made a comically uncertain expression visible even above his sunglasses. Despite all that uncertainty… Dean was a friend.

“We’re friends. Four-company certified freelancers need a freelancer license to accept friends, and… since Dean’s expired, I renew his friendship status with a cold beer every time he visits.”

Dean laughed lightly at my words and opened the villa’s main gate, as if we couldn’t keep talking outside forever. Our destination was the villa’s rooftop, and Dean jumped up there first with a light leap.

Seeing him jump without even using the propulsion device attached to the back of his calves showed Dean’s physical abilities. When he seriously wields his high-frequency blades, people would only see neon afterimages.

And the endless chain of strikes from a skilled swordsman would leave only long, winding, neon-burning afterimages in people’s vision. That’s probably why Dean is the Neon Snake.

I don’t need to complain or be afraid, since I can also jump up there while lightly carrying my Eve. Today’s party was set up on the rooftop.

Sarah, still snow-white and expressionless as always, threw a juice pack onto the hill of crumpled juice pack wrappers beside her and gave me a small wave.

She suddenly sent me a connection request, and Aegis woke up. I thought it might have misinterpreted her request as an infiltration attempt… but her communication packet contained malware named “Sparring Glove.”

It seemed like she was asking my information security officer for a practice match. After letting out a small laugh, I whispered to Aegis in my head—no, considering the pre-war federal government’s preferences… to AEGIS.

‘It’s training malware, so handle it appropriately, AEGIS. Use anything with reduced output just enough not to kill the infiltrator, and don’t use anything dangerous at all. You understand what I mean?’

‘Confirmed. Activating training mode. Also, an update is required. Please update at the nearest Secret Mission Bureau branch.’

Is it requesting an update because I called it by its intended name, AEGIS, rather than Aegis? I’m not sure, but I nod anyway and watch the sparring between Sarah and AEGIS continue for a moment.

AEGIS successfully blocked all of Sarah’s infiltration attempts and sent her a training termination message. Sarah made a disgruntled sound and stuck another straw into a juice pack.

Another cheap Farmers brand juice pack, proudly displaying text claiming both the packaging and straw were made of 100% plastic for environmental protection, was thrown onto the mountain of empty juice packs.

I catch the sunbed thrown up by Brandon who had gone downstairs and unfold it for my Eve. As she naturally sits down on it, Dean smiles with one corner of his mouth raised.

It’s obvious that I wouldn’t have come without a purpose. There’s no need to call this Dean’s sharp insight.

“So, Killshot. What brings you here? You seem like you want to enjoy the party with your girlfriend, but… that doesn’t seem to be all. Am I wrong?”

“You’re right. I want to hire Silver Lining. My Eve’s main job is mercenary work, but as a side job, she helps Hollowood Creek escapees… and I’ll have to leave for work soon.”

Dean abruptly stood up from the sunbed he was half-sitting on after hearing about my Eve. Showing a genuinely impressed expression rather than his usual fake frivolity, he clenched his fist and said:

“We’ll take it! You don’t need to pay any credits. If it’s about resisting cruel megacorporations like that, we should have been the ones seeking you out. Why didn’t we know about this until now?”

Dean was being much more enthusiastic than I expected. I thought I’d be lucky just to hear him say he’d consider it. My Eve also seemed a bit surprised by his eagerness.

“I think it’s because it’s a quiet operation in the ruins on the opposite side… Is this really okay? Silver Lining is…”

“Silver Lining wasn’t created to chase money, so it’s fine. I made plenty of money during my T&T certified freelancer days anyway, and now my goal is to do work that gives me peace of mind.”

I occasionally see reflections of myself in his words. I voiced another similarity I noticed:

“It seems every freelancer wants to do work that lets them sleep peacefully, Dean.”

“Of course! Silver Lining goes a bit beyond that. We… we want the world to be a little kinder. We want to sound an alarm so people’s lives aren’t trampled by the cruel.”

Now I can better understand and empathize with the reason behind the company name. I leisurely quoted something he had said once before:

“Because even the darkest storm clouds have silver linings where sunlight breaks through and makes them shine, right?”

“That’s it! You know, Arthur. People like you and me only know how to break and kill. Even when we try to do something good for the world, all we know is breaking and killing… but this is a new idea, right?”

It was true. My only plan to liberate the Adams and Eves of Hollowood Creek was to kill Chairman John Rutherford and destroy Hollowood Creek. But that method certainly has its value too.

There’s no superiority between violence and non-violence. They’re just different methods to be used at appropriate times. Like a butcher’s knife and a scalpel, they’re tools without inherent good or evil. It’s only bad to use a butcher’s knife when a scalpel is needed.

My Eve gestured to calm down the excited Dean, who seemed to realize how passionately he was speaking and drained his beer bottle in one go. My Eve spoke with a slightly joking tone:

“What we’re actually asking for is guarding the villa, or watching our backs when we work as brokers… so you’ll probably need to kill and destroy Inquisitors or Copies who target the escapees.”

Dean made a bitter “sssip” sound at her words, but nodded as if it was still fine. As Dean said, what we do is always killing.

What matters, as always, is what’s worth it. Bringing suffering people to peaceful and free lives is worth it.

“It doesn’t matter. All a snake is good at is leaving social cuts.”

When he said those words, Dean’s voice was incredibly cold. It was the voice of someone who had reached the top at T&T, where survival of the fittest was the only law.

Of course, Dean wasn’t the type to think speaking in such a voice all day was cool. He believed it was cooler to willingly make a fool of himself, like slipping while walking along the edge of a swimming pool.

“Ah, I said I wasn’t obsessed with the concept, but here I am saying things like that in less than five minutes. Hmm, anyway… prepare to move out, Silver Lining! We’ll grill the meat when we get there!”

After saying that, Dean really did pack up right there, loaded everything into an armored van, and headed to my Eve’s hideout with us. His actions could be described as excessively quick.

Nevertheless, Pastor Bill Weaver didn’t doubt Dean’s voice when he said he came to do good. In fact, he seemed much more at ease than when listening to me.

The Hollowood Creek escapee family that my Eve had brought in while I was capturing Tisha really enjoyed the barbecue Dean had brought. That was enough.

Dean might still be the one who attacked Half & Half, but perhaps… it was just a prank call like Noah’s, a misdeed that could be overlooked. This seemed to be what Dean truly wanted.

I decide to cover for him and trust him for now. So far, that principle of trust has never betrayed me. I can place one more bet on it. Now it was time to get back to work.

A few days after Dean started staying at my Eve’s hideout with the Creek escapees, I received a message from Fitts & Morrison asking if I could visit. I responded immediately and headed to their headquarters.

I entered through the employee-only entrance and met Mr. James wearing an intimidating Talos full-body prosthetic. After briefly acknowledging him with a nod, I got straight to the point.

“Ah, Mr. James. Even though they say Fitts & Morrison’s R&D team has special items, honestly, I don’t really have a good sense of what kind of items they have. What exactly do they make?”

He let out a deep sigh. Even for Fitts & Morrison, which values individual ability and improvisation above all else, it was clear they made things that would make one sigh.

“That Calliope module around your neck is their work. They’re the kind of people who decided to stuff both voice and sonic weapons together since they’re both sound. They make things that won’t be commercialized for at least ten years.”

If it could be commercialized within ten years, Bellwether would be working on it as a long-term project with great dedication. Fitts & Morrison was extreme this time too, but it didn’t seem like a bad kind of extremism.

If someone needs to prepare for the coming future, someone else needs to generate ideas for a future too distant to arrive soon. However… they should change their naming convention.

It was contradictory that Fitts & Morrison, which proclaimed the future so loudly, was uncritically using naming conventions from Greek mythology from the war-era United States, a product of the past.

Anyway, Mr. James led me into an elevator heading down to the research complex in the basement of the headquarters. The scenery visible as the elevator descended was… almost bizarre.

It looked as if they had gathered all kinds of technicians—prosthetic technicians, weapons technicians, and all other types—in one place and left them to freely work on projects with whoever they wanted.

In one corner, someone wearing an exoskeleton was testing a rifle-shaped sonic weapon, getting blown backward into a wall, while on the opposite side was a clean laboratory that could be mistaken for Bellwether’s.

It was also a moment when I realized again that I was inevitably a Bellwether-style efficiency maximalist. The disorder was starting to give me a headache.