Ch.94Work Record 014 – Forging a Harpoon (3)

A common retribution. A common death. After calling the Bellwether cleaning team, I open the door and enter again. I exhale the smog that couldn’t pass through the circulatory filter, then wash my body in the air shower.

When I return to the bar, a drink is already waiting at my seat. Payment confirmed. About two hundred credits have been deposited into my account as commission. The bartender smirks and nods at me.

“Got your share? Those random folks were making such a fuss about how even freelancers should wear gas masks on days like this. You should’ve seen their faces when they lost their money.”

“Well, I saw the flood of mocking emojis when I shot them dead. That’s enough for me.”

I pass the laughing bartender and straddle the stool again. I clink glasses with the Kanun employees who received free drinks and take a swig.

I thought Mr. Simon would be less wary, but his expression showed even more caution. Perhaps it’s nonsensical to expect someone to trust you more after watching you kill another person without hesitation.

In contrast, the other Kanun employees seemed to have warmed up to me. Noah, who had been quietly observing me with curious eyes until now, carefully spoke up. Looking at me, he asked:

“Was there a reason to shoot the last person dead? We could see his silhouette in the window from here… You shot him right after he lowered his head after raising his hands.”

Still a hesitant rookie mercenary. Definitely not someone raised by megacorporations, and certainly never aspired to be on a security team.

But his expression showed curiosity rather than questioning. That reaction was somewhat unusual. I answered almost without hesitation.

“If someone comes to kill people as a gang initiation test, pretends to surrender, and then reaches for the gun they dropped, isn’t shooting them the right call? The world is better off without such people.”

It’s a simple principle. If someone’s existence causes no harm to the world, you should try to save them; if the opposite is true, you should try to eliminate them. The fruits of such efforts… are sometimes visible.

Simon approached us and placed his hand between us while Noah still looked confused. He spoke with slight displeasure:

“A true Bellwether man through and through. Do you think I can’t see past your face value? Or are you some old special ops agent who retired, got rejuvenation treatment from Panacea, and received a younger body?”

“Ah. I was wondering when that would come up. That’s exactly what I thought every day after quitting Bellwether within six months and looking for a mercenary staffing company. Should I embellish my resume? Or just go with it as is?”

He’s a typically cautious person. To ease his wariness, I needed to show my human side rather than prove myself as an excellent mercenary.

Noah Verami’s parents were probably dead. No sane parent would entrust their son to a mercenary uncle. In that situation, Simon Verami must have had to take on the role of guardian for the first time in his life.

The best approach, then, is to reveal that I’m just an ordinary person in my early twenties, like his nephew. The human brain is easily fooled. It tries to connect similar traits between objects.

Until now, I’d been too idealistic, saying things like “I don’t trust Bellwether, but I believe in their ideals.” That ends now. Simon looked at me as if I were finally making sense.

His expression showed slightly less wariness. I didn’t particularly enjoy having to profile everyone I met, but it’s right to handle the task at hand efficiently.

“So what did you do?”

“I went with it as is. That’s why I’m still just a regular employee.”

I even chuckle a bit at that. To everyone, I was someone standing on an ambiguous line. Easy to become an enemy, not too difficult to become a friend.

My initial approach was imperfect. I had mistakenly assumed he would be as meritocratic as Bellwether. People never go exactly as I want, but I can always adjust my direction.

“Good choice. Getting a high position through bluffing only makes life tiresome. That’s why I’m trying to make a living as an advisor at my nephew’s mercenary staffing company. He’s a mediocre mercenary. Truly mediocre.”

Getting a high position through bluffing… That makes me think of Mr. Günter again. Was becoming Bellwether’s hammer beyond my capabilities? If it had been, Mr. Günter wouldn’t have recommended it to me.

I probably could have served as one person’s worth of hammer, and done something that seemed more meaningful than having pointless conversations with people from a mercenary staffing company that wasn’t even an official partner, in a bar like this.

It only seems meaningful. If I don’t assign meaning to it, nothing in the world has meaning. That’s exactly what Mr. Günter taught me. That’s what pleasure is.

“Turn your head side to side. Truly mediocre mercenaries all have one thing in common.”

Mr. Simon emptied his glass in one gulp and grinned. He answered as if he knew exactly what I meant.

I concede a point. I put someone who’s used to leading from the front in a familiar position. This should be enough to lower his guard.

“Ah, don’t treat people like idiots. A truly mediocre mercenary would have bullet holes in their head. I’m not that mediocre, kid. You’re more reasonable than I thought, huh?”

“I’ve just met too many people who preach ‘efficiency is good! inefficiency is evil.’ But it seems like my networking is progressing successfully.”

Simon responded with a voice tinged with laughter. A drink and some appropriate flattery worked better than truth serum. His voice was relaxed and even.

“If you need someone to help with jobs, why try to get so friendly? Don’t worry. Kanun isn’t that kind of company. People to help with jobs… do you need them?”

Riley, who had been sitting behind, nodded. He shrugged as if resigned and answered:

“For ordinary jobs, yes. Just a few days ago, if we had known, Wilderf wouldn’t have barely survived because of his bulletproof vest when we raided the gang hideout. Or rather, you would have handled it alone, and we wouldn’t have gotten a penny.”

Ordinary jobs? For a mercenary staffing company, taking and handling jobs was ordinary, everyday business. This implied there were extraordinary jobs. Whether this was a lead or just my paranoia, I couldn’t tell.

“Right. Sure. A freelancer can take down gangs and other mercenary staffing companies alone. Anyway… you’re with Bellwether?”

Wolfpack couldn’t resist. Probably even with Walter’s help. It’s strange how his exaggerated words describe things I’ve actually done.

More importantly, there was something concerning in his words. “With Bellwether.” Direction. Words that distinguish left and right, up and down, black and white, good and evil. I decided to play it straight.

“I told you I quit Bellwether. Night Watch is a partner company, but… I’m more Night Watch than Bellwether. Why?”

Simon shook his head at my straightforwardness, as if frustrated, and explained. Questions should be vague. Then people explain to give shape to that vagueness. It worked this time too.

“No, kid. That’s not what I meant… When you talk about military contractors, there are two, right? Bellwether on one side, Fitts & Morrison on the other. The rest… even combined, they can’t keep up with those two. Whether it’s Masterwork or whatever…”

Then the implication was “You’re not on Fitts & Morrison’s side, are you?” Do they have some grudge against Fitts & Morrison? I had no intention of getting tangled with whales again, so it was better to ask more.

Most people try to run away when someone cuts off their head, puts them in an incubator to cultivate their body as a tool, and sends assassins after them three times. Not many people try to fight back.

“I definitely have no connections with Fitts & Morrison. Why?”

Again, the lie came as naturally as breathing. I wasn’t stupid enough to mention that I had exchanged business cards with the Sin City bitches or the Fitts & Morrison security chief, nor was I dull enough to get caught.

The response would be telling. If this was enough, it meant they didn’t want to be involved with Fitts & Morrison even for work; if not, it was hatred. Simon shook his head and said:

He wasn’t drunk at all. Perhaps he had realized I was naturally conducting an interrogation. His voice was slow.

“No, well. That’s enough. I just don’t want to get involved with those Fitts & Morrison bastards, even for work.”

A sharp gaze briefly scans me. Even a mediocre mercenary has 13 years of experience in the industry.

Seeing the atmosphere rapidly freeze and thaw, Riley pushed Simon back to his seat and looked at me with his close-combat prosthetic eyes. He looked somewhat flustered.

“Simon comes from a nationalist zone. He hates both Bellwether and Fitts & Morrison. Are you from LA, Arthur?”

From a nationalist zone. Perhaps Chance would know more about this. All I had learned about nationalists was their inefficiency, and all I had seen and felt was that they were people too.

Either way, Riley was just trying to change the subject. Instead of grabbing his chin and pondering the reason right now, I decided to go with the flow of conversation. I had already uncovered enough.

How even the most ordinary people I’ve met in this city seem to be hiding some shady intentions. Maybe it’s something I’ll have to accept.

“I’m from LA. I’ll probably be living here until the rotten Pacific turns blue again. Riley…”

“I’m from LA too. Well, technically I was cultivated, so I wasn’t born, but… Oh, Simon said it wasn’t necessary, but could you work with us occasionally, even on your days off from Night Watch?”

This was the signal that I could go back to being the good person I wanted to be. The Kanun people probably didn’t have a training manual like the one Manager Yoon had given me. Learning from the internet would be stupid.

I needed to find out what they were up to, so I decided to accept readily this time too. I gave my long-practiced friendly smile, which now came naturally again.

“As long as you understand that I’m a mercenary who feels awkward being treated like someone who needs to learn from others. I’m not getting any official work right now anyway, so call me whenever it’s convenient.”

In the mercenary industry, reliable execution was more important than handling things yourself. Borrowing personnel from other companies was not uncommon. It was natural.

At least they didn’t seem to be some kind of secret society. Riley’s expression brightened genuinely when I readily agreed to help. It wasn’t a face trying to hide panic.

I could finally understand a bit why the Shepherd spent his personal time investigating unsolved cases. My lovely LA had too many things that seemed ready to explode and cause casualties if left alone.

Is this the third time? Probably the third. If I had known, I would have just gone to headquarters. After making an almost obligatory complaint, I enjoyed the rest of the drinking session. More precisely, I watched while nursing a drink.

Five out of six people prioritized the mercenary staffing company work. Even Noah, who had only shown fear and a sense of being overwhelmed in front of me, talked comfortably with the other employees.

But Simon was different. He was… the kind of person with some other purpose. It oddly reminded me of myself, working while my real goal was finding out who Walter was.

As I was watching, another employee with a somewhat gloomy impression, unlike the generally kind and gentle Riley, approached me.

Her coarse black hair was quite long. Judging by the helmet marks, she worked in the field, but she was quite short for that. Around 150cm? Definitely shorter than Eve and similar to Kay.

Her attire was, to put it nicely, neat, or more commonly, bland and unremarkable. Her voice, as she put down her glass and approached me, carried a slight scent of honey-infused whiskey.

Her dark circles were deep, and after fumbling awkwardly for a while as if uncomfortable speaking in front of someone, what she finally said was… too ordinary for such nervousness.

“Kanu, Kanun’s duty, medical role, Evelyn. Freelancer helps, welcome. So, um… nice to, meet you. Yeah. Especially Wilderf, watch out for him. He gets hurt the most.”

Some people need to put all their effort into a simple introduction. I look at the large man with a loud voice she pointed to. There were bandage marks on his chest.

Probably bruises from being shot while wearing a bulletproof vest. A bulletproof vest gives you a second chance, but it’s not free. I smiled at her and replied:

“You were fumbling so much, I thought you were going to ask for a blood sample from a Post-Human Type IV. Nice to meet you too.”

“That’s not, not possible. Becoming a wanted person of a megacorporation is, is out of the question. But, can you under, understand what I’m saying? Is it not, not difficult? Everyone… with that…”

She stuttered less than Enzo, at least. Enzo had no problem making himself understood either. I nodded again and replied:

“Not a problem at all. If someone can’t understand what you’re saying just because you stutter a bit, I think the problem is with their comprehension… but you’d say that’s too harsh, right?”

She’s a timid person but not a bad one. Her smile, which even covered her dark circles, confirmed that she appreciated my understanding.

Riley, seeing me, elbowed the man called Wilderf. He pointed at me as if to say “learn from this.”

“A person who just met you is trying to get friendlier with Evelyn than you are. Don’t you learn anything from this?”

“I’m trying, Riley. And what am I supposed to learn from that? That freelancers have a thing for gloomy women?”

So after “offliner,” the next title is “freelancer”? At Night Watch, I no longer needed to hide my name, but outside, it seemed I would be called this. The important thing was the other matter.

I quite liked this pointless, everyday atmosphere. I hoped that the concerns I had observed today were just misunderstandings, or perhaps just personal preferences showing through, and I was overreacting.

While I welcomed becoming friends with the Kanun people, I didn’t want them to become my work. If they did, I would move to handle the assigned task cleanly, which is why I especially hoped they wouldn’t.

After the daytime drinking session ended, we went our separate ways, and the rest of the day… boringly, or diligently, I spent in the virtual reality trainer at Night Watch. There was some variation, but it was still routine.