Ch.88013 Work Record – Too High a Price (2)

Only my revenge has ended. Nothing else has finished. Still, the Special Operations agent with his body mostly intact seemed to have no hostile intentions.

Setting aside whether that was even possible, he truly harbored no hostility. After seeing him discard his bullet-riddled hand and attach a new one from his torso, I willingly stepped into the silent zone.

Now I couldn’t hear anything from outside. If that Special Ops agent were to put down the half-bodied agent he was cradling, I’d be facing a 2-against-1 situation. At least neither was armed, and we were in a hospital.

As soon as I entered, all I could do was sigh. What had been a finished matter for me was becoming an issue again, which was quite unpleasant.

“You people… don’t know how to die easily, do you?”

“That’s rich coming from someone who called the company for rescue after getting his neck cut off, and who tore apart Legal Assassination Team members while limping on an injured leg after taking a bullet to the chest.”

The latter wasn’t actually me… but it was. The Chairman wanted that to be the truth, so it became truth. I nodded at him, still keeping my gun aimed.

“I’m someone who contributed nothing to suppressing the coup, so I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just state your purpose. I can’t tell whether I should wait a few seconds before pulling the trigger or do it right now.”

The Special Ops agent ran his hand over his full-body prosthetic, which had lost even its facial muscles to become completely metallic. As if unsure where to begin, he rubbed his forehead before speaking.

“First… would you call just one Assault Team for us, Agent? We don’t intend to cause trouble in the hospital. At least I don’t.”

Meanwhile, the half-bodied Special Ops agent continued to struggle in his arms. With nothing to support himself, he seemed to be swimming in mid-air, making it easy for the other agent to restrain him.

I still didn’t trust them. I continued my suspicion as I answered. Just yesterday, they had been fighting on Walter’s side against regular employees.

“Why? You seem to think if you can just get to headquarters under the pretext of being arrested, you might have a chance at turning things around…”

“Rational thinking. My colleague here is thinking exactly that. After crawling through sewers mixed with prosthetic waste to get here, he wants to reach headquarters and try to reverse the situation.”

Walter was already dead, and neither of them was even a Special Ops director anymore, so I had no idea who they planned to install as leader to continue the coup. I couldn’t help but laugh. But the Special Ops agent continued earnestly.

“Agent, I don’t know how much you’ll understand this… but the small must willingly sacrifice for the greater good. There are causes in this world that don’t seek compromise. We worked for such a cause.”

“How could Adrian…”

“He’s just a small part. Not significant enough to abandon the cause for. Our cause is simply the efficient operation of the branch. Everything else is so small that even calling it ‘small’ would be an overstatement. So we chose the lesser evil.”

He was insane. To think that starting a coup without caring who might die was the lesser evil. As I was about to argue, he took a deep breath and continued.

“The coup could be handled as a counter-coup by Special Ops, but the inefficient Security Team that wasn’t purged would remain Belwether’s cancer longer than the coup’s aftermath. That’s why this is the lesser evil.”

If the Security Team truly lacked ability or had been negligent, resulting in 160 deaths, maybe he’d have a point. I softened my voice as I replied.

“What did Walter tell you that made this seem like a lesser evil? Was the headquarters supposedly protecting the Security Team?”

“Something like that. He said it was decided by higher-ups. We dedicated ourselves to purging those inefficient ones. But they turned out to be not so inefficient after all.”

The Security Team had done an excellent job both protecting regular office workers against Special Ops and the Legal Assassination Team, and suppressing the coup. This Special Ops agent seemed to have softened his attitude because of that.

“I’ve talked too much. The point is, Agent, now we’re the small part that must be sacrificed. If so, we should willingly accept that sacrifice. Who we are, what stories we have… it’s all trivial.”

He was terrifyingly straightforward. What he wanted now was a performance—to be captured alive in front of many people, with all eyes watching these two fugitive Special Ops agents.

“Then you should have died in the headquarters instead of running away. Coming all the way here and suddenly saying such things seems strange.”

He displayed the half-bodied Special Ops agent he was restraining. The agent reached toward me, but his sharp fingertips couldn’t reach. I faced him without flinching.

His voice module seemed damaged, producing only static. Unlike the relatively intact, moderate Special Ops agent, his entire body was falling apart.

“Searching through every garbage dump and sewer in the city would be inefficient, wouldn’t it?”

“Exactly. This one had already escaped. If I hadn’t intervened, additional inefficiency would have occurred. Although we’re currently hindering the branch’s efficient operation, this is the lesser evil.”

Better to capture an escaped colleague than to let rumors spread about a half-bodied Special Ops agent crawling through Los Angeles sewers. He was terrifyingly straightforward.

The lesser evil. This is better. I’d met many people who said such things, but never someone who applied those standards to themselves. No, this was definitely a first.

“You know what will happen when you return, don’t you?”

“It won’t end with death. We’ll be imprisoned in brain prisons indefinitely. However, unnecessary security measures in the branch and Greater Los Angeles area will be lifted, efficiency will increase, and employee-citizens can return to work.”

What kind of belief makes eternal life, solitude, and confinement without stimulation seem bearable? Though his face showed no expression, he made a joke.

“We really don’t know how to die, do we?”

“Don’t try to brush this off as a joke. I could just put a hole in your brain storage right here and end it. That would be more efficient.”

“No, Agent. People need something visible. A video of two Special Ops agents being transported alive will give more certainty that we’ve been captured than photos of two dead ones. Certainty is efficient. And…”

I could kill them and fake the video, but from this Special Ops agent’s perspective, using so much of the company’s resources to capture them would be inefficient.

Was this the kind of feeling that nationalist felt when he saw me while I was rescuing Eve or Chance? Probably.

He paused, and I gestured for him to continue. We were enemies, but enemies reciting the same creed.

Was there even a need to call us enemies? If I let my guard down even slightly, ambiguity crept up my spine.

At the very least… there was no reason not to say what he asked. It was a phrase that had helped many people in this city. Even if it failed to help this time.

“Efficiency is good, inefficiency is evil. That’s a natural value at Belwether… but it leaves a bitter taste.”

He made a clicking sound with his tongue and spoke. It wasn’t uncommon for a child to swallow bitter medicine today to get candy tomorrow, but no child would swallow bitter medicine upon hearing that someone else would get candy.

At least that had been true in my life until now. Apparently, there were children in the world who could swallow any amount of bitter medicine on the promise of giving candy to others.

“It must be bitter. You’re sending us to brain prison. But that’s a lesser evil. Letting the city continue under an inefficient surveillance system would be an immeasurably greater evil. Report us, Agent.”

Ignorance is a sin. Not properly considering the means to achieve one’s goals is also a sin. It’s inefficient. Yet becoming an immortal in this era… perhaps the price was too high.

There was no other choice. They made bad choices. Bad choices lead to bad consequences. At least that’s what Belwether wanted. I tapped the side of my head lightly and shared the screen that appeared in my vision.

Adding that I hoped they would come quietly to avoid chaos in the hospital… now five minutes remained. He would know the time more precisely than I did. Perhaps he could even imagine the sound of helicopters.

Upon confirming the report had been made, the half-bodied Special Ops agent struggled a bit more before trying to pierce his own brain storage. But the unarmed Special Ops agent prevented it. Because it would be inefficient.

Then, with his prosthetic fingertips, he precisely cut the power line running through the agent’s inner forearm, rendering the arm immobile. He made it impossible for him to even commit suicide.

For some inexplicable reason—or rather, for reasons I could name but couldn’t understand why they made me feel this way—I felt frustrated and asked him:

“I wish we had time to chat. What if you don’t want to commit even a lesser evil?”

Only then did the Special Ops agent that everyone in the Security Team both feared and admired return. He answered as if it were obvious:

“We have about 4 minutes and 30 seconds. It’s simple. Act smart. Move quickly. Handle things decisively. Special Ops failed on the first and third counts this time. They kept you alive and chose the wrong side. That’s why they failed.”

His words calmly concluded that he was simply paying the price for failure. To rise to high positions in this era, one must be crazy. At Belwether, one must be crazy about efficiency.

After a moment of silence, I nodded. Reducing his sharp fingertips from two to one, he said:

“Not killing you turned out to be a good choice in the end. Thanks to that, the coup ended with the Legal Assassination Team and Special Ops being suppressed, rather than escalating into a corporate civil war. We were just stupid.”

Brain prison seemed too harsh for someone who could acknowledge failure and avoid repeating it. But it was appropriate. Understanding and empathy were different things.

Seeing my expression, he leaned his emotionless full-body prosthetic against the hospital wall quite naturally. The lightweight full-body prosthetic weighed about the same as a person.

“For someone who thwarted the plans of both Special Ops and the Legal Assassination Team, you don’t seem very experienced, Agent. You’ll get used to one of two things.”

His voice was advisory. Though a full-body prosthetic’s voice couldn’t naturally convey emotion, he skillfully adjusted his voice to show feeling.

With those words, he stood up from the wall and casually began searching under the hospital bed. Soon, a waterproof pouch covered in contaminated water and mud emerged.

As if he’d expected this, he nudged the other Special Ops agent, opened the pouch, and pulled out a gun. It was a matte black pistol issued to Special Ops, holding twenty-one rounds.

Naturally, designed for use with full-body prosthetics, it was far too heavy to be considered a normal pistol. He held it by the barrel, not the grip, and handed it to me. Just like the Director used to do.

As he extended the gun, he briefly pulled it back toward himself and used his sharp Special Ops fingertip to inscribe a word on the slide. It was the phrase he had repeated several times: “lesser evil.”

“Either get used to these lesser evils, or get used to making bone-deep efforts to avoid committing even one lesser evil. Neither is wrong. But if a lesser evil is necessary…”

Since the owner was a Special Ops agent already processed as deceased, ownership naturally passed to the full-body prosthetic before me. And the moment he transferred it, it became mine.

For something I recognized, it didn’t seem to be company property. Otherwise, I would have had to return it.

I took the gun. I removed the magazine and confirmed it contained anti-reinforced suit ammunition.

He didn’t seem to want me to shoot him. I could see him preparing to subdue me if I raised the barrel. I quietly tucked the gun into my waistband.

The trigger guard was wide, designed for Special Ops agents with hands that could be used as multi-purpose blades. The selector switch indicated it could fire in fully automatic mode.

Though it used anti-reinforced suit ammunition, the caliber itself was standard, making ammunition easy to find, and judging by the caliber, its firepower would be anything but “supplementary.” It was too generous a gift to receive for free.

After all, I had just visited a former colleague in the hospital and had a conversation with him. We both received something excessive—I in a good way, he in a bad one.

Soon there was a knock. Someone gently touched the door to reveal the interior. The Assault-1 Director and two employees entered. The Special Ops agent leisurely opened the blinds.

A noise-reduced helicopter was flying outside the window. There was no means of resistance. The Special Ops agent quietly knelt and lay face-down on the floor.

One of the Mastiffs clicked his tongue and muttered with displeasure. He would have felt better if they had killed him in a firefight inside the hospital.

“With five minutes to spare, you’d think he’d have put a bullet in his own head… He must know what kind of torture awaits before brain prison.”

“Is there a better way to show people that criminals have been caught than dragging a living offender to the execution block and displaying his head in the square, Mastiff One?”

While Mastiff One looked down at him, other Assault Team members deactivated his full-body prosthetic. As some kind of consideration, they seemed to have left his voice module intact.

Judging by Mastiff One’s bitter voice, it was definitely a consideration.

“How barbaric.”

“If all the gunpowder in the world disappeared one day, I’d gladly learn archery. If glue disappeared too, I’d use throwing spears, and if iron vanished, I’d throw stones.”

Mastiff One lightly lifted his deactivated body. He spoke as if addressing a traitor who knew the reason for his betrayal.

“If only you’d used that reason and judgment earlier…”

“I changed my mind after seeing you successfully suppress the coup. You proved your efficiency. Efficiency is good!”

Mastiff One’s outpouring of indignation stopped at those words. One Assault Team employee took charge of him, while another confirmed that the half-bodied Special Ops agent was secured in a bag, then spoke to me.

“Inefficiency is evil… Take them away. And you’re now just a regular employee-citizen with no connection to this matter. Actually, not even an employee-citizen. You’re a freelancer.”

“Would you believe me if I said I came to visit a former colleague who’s lying upstairs with his neck half-severed?”

He tapped his reinforced suit helmet with his palm as if incredulous, then said:

“Actually, now I might believe it. What I don’t understand is ‘how’—how you always manage to be in the right place at the right time.”

“Probably because when asked to visit a former colleague in the hospital, I don’t say, ‘Oh, I’m too busy today.'”

“Huh, that actually makes sense. Anyway, feel free to go. No need for a statement. For the company, its employees, and shareholders.”

He saluted with three fingers as if making a pledge, and I returned the same salute. Neither tragedy nor comedy, only a bitter silence settled in the empty hospital room.