episode_0010

I really need to get Stage 3 fine dust filter lung implants soon, or I think lung cancer might kill me first.

“Damn it, I heard the Upper City even has street trees. They could at least run air purifiers.”

“Heh heh heh… How much would it cost to filter the entire Lower City every day? There’s no way corporations would do something like that!”

I turned my head towards the raspy voice coming from beside me.

This old man, as wrinkled as his voice, was Dumbo Grandpa, who lived on the same floor.

“Dumbo Grandpa, I thought you were on your last legs, but you’re still alive?”

“Heh heh heh! You too! Anyway, you look well. You’ve bulked up a bit. Did you steal money to get implants or something?”

“Why would a model citizen like me steal money? I earned it fair and square, that’s what I’m saying.”

Dumbo Grandpa and I naturally started chatting while waiting for the elevator.

Avoiding conversation, whether with that ill-mannered salaryman Hawkins or this old grandpa, was simply etiquette for anyone living in a Mega-Apartment.

After all, waiting for the snail-paced elevators in this incredibly crowded and incredibly tall Mega-Apartment would be far too boring otherwise.

“Usually, guys who call themselves model citizens are all crazy. Anyway, did you hear about that thing?”

“I prefer people who get straight to the point instead of saying ‘that thing’.”

“It’s about the EPSB Director being caught secretly meeting with Central Defense Alliance personnel, leading to the MegaCorp directors sweating bullets in a hearing!”

“Ah… well, I guess we won’t be seeing their face anymore once the hearing is over.”

“Heh heh. That’s right.”

It seems that was the information the former director held that could overturn the current state of affairs.

The relationship between Eclipse Point and the former USA, now the Central Defense Alliance, was so bad that they were practically desperate to kill each other.

The Central Defense Alliance didn’t know when other administrative regions might follow Eclipse Point’s lead and declare independence, while Eclipse Point hated the Central Defense Alliance for constantly trying to impose regulations on them.

It’s even joked that if the MegaCorps hadn’t collectively pressured the Central Defense Alliance, Eclipse Point would have been nuked into oblivion.

The minister had genuinely threatened to fire a nuke if any other administrative region tried to declare independence.

In such a relationship, for the Director of the EPSB to secretly contact the Alliance?

You could say it’s practically sticking his neck out and asking to be killed.

“He was a guy who was hell-bent on ruining the Lower City, so this serves him right! He’s the kind of scum who deserves to be torn to shreds and fed to chlorella, and even that wouldn’t be enough!”

“So, who’s the new director going to be?”

“I don’t know. Since this happened so suddenly, the faction’s power must have weakened, so wouldn’t the former director take over again?”

Nodding at Dumbo Grandpa’s words – he oddly knew a lot about politics – I stepped into the elevator that had arrived.

The stable creaking sound sent a thrill through my heart.

Maybe being a mercenary suited me well because my guts had been trained by riding this crappy elevator down 67 floors every day.

“By the way, where are you headed?”

“Ah, I have some business in Rossboard.”

“Rossboard? Why are you going to that place overflowing with chrome junkies?”

Rossboard, a district bordering the harbor, was a place infamous even within the Lower City for its terrible public safety, where gangs trying to raid incoming cargo ships were concentrated, and security companies prowled with watchful eyes.

Furthermore, a massive gang called Hellstream roamed there, a faction that worshipped cyberware to the point of fanaticism.

They were atrocious thugs who couldn’t stand purists, kidnapping them and forcing cyberware insertion procedures on them. Yet, they became strangely kind once the cyberware was installed.

“I thought I might be able to find a street engineer there.”

Since the entire gang had thousands of members who installed chrome beyond reasonable limits, street engineers who smelled money naturally flocked to Rossboard to set up shops.

Following Luna’s advice, I had decided I needed a techie I knew, so I planned to just head there and search.

I thought I could just ask Jay Q, Blake, or Raleigh, but I’d also heard advice that it would be better to look for myself rather than rely on introductions, as each techie had preferred types of chrome and different areas of expertise.

“Heh heh. Then this old man will tell you something good.”

“I won’t get my hopes up.”

“You rude bastard. There’s a techie hidden in Rossboard, one called a legend.”

“How would an old geezer like you know something like that?”

I should probably take what the grandpa, who looked like he was about to go senile, said with a grain of salt. Still, it wasn’t information a regular old man, not even a mercenary, would likely know.

“Heh heh heh! Why would I spill all my secrets? Anyway, he was a techie from a legendary team that completely wiped out a MegaCorp, and they say his skill was so great that even after installing hardcore cyberware, he never went chrome psycho!”

“If that’s true, Hellstream wouldn’t have left him alone by now.”

“Of course, they wouldn’t leave him alone! So Hellstream’s boss tried to recruit him, but there’s a rumor that the techie gave him the finger and blew him up with a grenade.”

How many people could act so outrageously toward a super-large gang in Eclipse Point?

I wondered if a mercenary called a legend was truly different from the rest.

“Of course, it’s just a rumor. Heh heh! But wouldn’t it be interesting if it were true?”

“Well, the fact that he’s alive is already pretty much an urban legend, isn’t it?”

For example, the Analman, who somehow appears when you’re seriously wounded and collapsed during a shootout, neatly heals your wounds, and then takes your ass.

They even say he’s a truly frightening existence who doesn’t discriminate by gender, age, wealth, or build, simply because he really likes ass.

It’s not that I’ve seen him, but a drunken Jay Q told me about it.

Giving up your rear for medical service better than Trauma Team, and for free at that.

To some, he must be like a fairy.

Of course, if it were me, I’d just shoot myself in the head with a shotgun and die cleanly.

“Anyway, go look carefully. Heh heh heh. You might even like him, who knows.”

*Clank.* Getting off the elevator, which had arrived at the first floor relatively uncrowded despite it being close to lunchtime, Dumbo Grandpa let out an unpleasant chuckle and quickly went on his way.

That old coot was surprisingly fast.

Waiting at the Uber pick-up point, I bought a drink from a nearby vending machine.

This damn vending machine only sold drinks from one corporation, and it seemed they just dumped in whatever stock they had, as a random drink came out every time I inserted money.

Thanks to this, I usually wouldn’t even look at it, as I had to ‘gacha’ several times to get the drink I wanted. But now that my pockets were full, I inserted credits without much thought.

Concentrated Chlorella flavor – I’d tried it before, and it was fishy and disgusting.

Synthetic Cherry flavor – I’m sure the bastard who made this has never tasted a cherry. Because it tastes like snot.

Tonkotsu Ramen flavor – this one was surprisingly drinkable. Except for the damned carbonation, that is.

After tossing several cans into the trash, I finally got a tolerable Chocolate Smoothie-flavored drink. I popped it open and then retrieved a firearm from the vending machine next to it.

Amazingly, this gun vending machine let me buy exactly what I wanted with just the push of a button. Truly, nothing short of revolutionary.

To think I could buy exactly what I wanted, right away!

Tucking a self-defense sawed-off shotgun into my waistband, I drank the chocolate smoothie imitation as I hailed an Uber taxi and headed for Rossboard.

The Uber, which arrived in 30 minutes, cost 320 credits.

“Motherfucker. That’s damn expensive.”

It was still a price that made you curse.

I felt the urge to blast that Uber casually driving away with my shotgun, but instead, I decided to head further into Rossboard, where the salty scent of the polluted sea hung in the air.

“Tsk, I should really buy a car myself.”

If I bought one used, I could get it for under 10,000 credits, so it would be cheaper than taking those Ubers.

Of course, fuel and insurance would be separate.

Muttering complaints, I noticed that Rossboard Harbor, which seemed to smell a bit mustier, surprisingly didn’t have many people around.

Rather than having a small population, it felt more like the calm before a storm, before something major was about to happen.

When they made eye contact with me, people closed their windows or pointedly looked away at their BDs, and I saw a few heavily armed chrome chunks, likely Hellstream members, in the distance.

“Stop.”

Of course, seeing me from a distance meant those cans with mechanical eyeballs could spot me even more clearly, so I was surrounded by what appeared to be Hellstream cans just 2 minutes and 17 seconds after arriving in Rossboard.

If they were at least canned goods, they’d have some use, but these walking cans I couldn’t even eat were pointing guns at me. Raising both my arms, I regretted not coming with others.

“What’s going on here?”

“Haha, friend. I don’t really want to fight, so could you put away those scary holes?”

Pointing at the implantation machines that, if the trigger were pulled, would quickly turn me into swiss cheese, I smiled amiably.

But these bastards, whose heads had also been turned into cans, pushed their gun muzzles closer, as if the very concept of friendliness had been extracted from them by their implants.

The third crisis of my life!

“Wait a minute.”

Just then, one of the Hellstream gang members who had surrounded me lowered his gun, approached me, and grabbed my arm.

“This is a Raizin Corp. 6th generation Smash Grenade! And it’s a first-run production!”

“What?! Is that real?!”

“Damn it! I wanna see! Let me see too!”

As one of the cans discovered the Smash Grenade on my arm, I was barraged with requests for handshakes.

Crazy bastards…