episode_0045

I couldn’t help but be flustered by the green-hooded person who abruptly grabbed me and asked me to take on a request.

While it could have been a simple request for protection, a request from such a suspicious-looking person in this kind of situation was bound to have something shady behind it.

“What kind of shitty talk is this…”

“Find them!”

“Tsk, get inside for now.”

It seemed the time the show-off had bought us by acting as a temporary shield was slowly coming to an end, as I could hear the masked figures searching the building’s interior according to tactical manuals.

I pushed the green-hooded person and the two mercenaries inside, put up an “Out of Order” sign on the bathroom, and locked the door.

The dark public restroom with its lights off somehow never changed over time, and its cleanliness was such that you didn’t feel like touching anything.

I think I saw something with dozens of legs crawling on the wall there… Damn it.

“So what exactly is this request? Tell me quickly before those guys tear down even the broken bathroom door.”

Although we had disguised it as a broken and locked bathroom, if they had surrounded the building to this extent, they would probably quickly realize we hadn’t exited through the back door and search the interior even more thoroughly.

I thought these damn useless EPSB patrols would arrive soon, but since they’d also have to rescue hostages, it would be faster for those guys to find us.

The person who took off the green hood had deep dark circles, looked extremely uneasy, and was a ginger with red hair and green eyes.

“Irish?”

“Th-th-that’s racist, you know?! W-well, yes, I am of Irish descent, but…!”

“What I hate most in the world are racists, so whether you’re a ginger, a nigger, or a fucking yellow monkey, I don’t care, so please just tell me what you want.”

“…”

I am now a racial egalitarian who can drop the n-word without a second thought even in front of Black people.

In fact, with the advancement of cosmetic medicine, race has long lost much of its meaning, so people nowadays consider skin color to be part of fashion.

While it costs some money, it’s not something as unattainable as cyberware.

“I-I’m Aaron Rossmore. P-please take me outside E-Eclipse Point!”

“You want to go outside Eclipse Point? If you’re suicidal, I’d prefer you die quietly alone.”

The woman (Wade) frowned sharply at the words of the green-hooded person who introduced himself as Aaron.

Perhaps intimidated by that look, Aaron, who was already timid, now looked pitifully shriveled.

But the woman’s reaction wasn’t incomprehensible.

‘Outside Eclipse Point, it’s no different from a warzone.’

With bike gangs and nomads living in the wasteland, genetically modified beasts born from all sorts of corporate experiments drool, ready to take a bite out of any human, and there are even biohazard zones where pathogens with a 70% mortality rate for humans are rampant.

Thus, it’s safe to say that there’s practically no inbound population entering Eclipse Point by land.

“I agree as well. And while we are mercenaries, we don’t take just any request. It’s the rule of the mercenary world to take contracts through a fixer…”

“Tsk… So, what’s the payment?”

I cut off the bespectacled guy’s rambling about fixers and procedures, and asked Aaron.

It’s not like the fixer is right next to him, but he acts as if he needs to ask the fixer even to go take a shit.

“I-I don’t have anything right now… I fled too urgently, so… B-but if we get out, my mom will pay…!”

“Ha… A mama’s boy, huh? So, you can’t give anything now, and whether you’ll even get paid in the future is unclear, right?”

“…”

The katana woman’s eyes turned cold.

Of course, who would be happy if someone told them to their face they wanted to use them without pay?

‘By the way, what is that thing he’s holding?’

The object the green-hooded Aaron was holding carefully, as if not wanting to let it go.

Martina, reading my thoughts, naturally used a scan and began to identify the object.

I should be careful, it could be something like a bomb.

‘Scan results indicate it appears to be a neural-interface motor assistance operating system.’

‘Speedware?’

‘Similar, but a broader category. And given that this model isn’t found in either the civilian or military markets, it is presumed to be either a prototype or an illegally privately manufactured item.’

I was certain that object was absolutely not an illegally privately manufactured invention, but rather a corporate prototype cyberware.

‘New cyberware’ is absolutely not something one person could create alone.

Furthermore, in the case of neural-interface cyberware, which produces the most powerful effects, countless experts in anatomy, neurology, electronics, and so on must put their heads together to reduce side effects, so it costs an enormous amount of time and budget.

Thanks to this, while other cyberware sees a new generation appear in about 5 years, operating systems take 20 to 30 years.

During that time, only minor software updates or improved versions are released.

Anyway, if that is indeed a prototype, why such an item, which should be safely ensconced in a corporate laboratory, is in the possession of the green-hooded Aaron is quite intriguing.

“Alright. I’ll take the request. The content of the request is to guarantee your material safety and to pass through the Eclipse Point gate, I understand.”

“Th-thank you…!”

“What? You’re taking this?”

“Wait, are you serious?”

The katana woman and the bespectacled guy stared at me as if dumbfounded.

If they didn’t know what the green-hooded Aaron was holding, their reactions would be understandable.

It was a request with absolutely no profit, just a child’s tantrum.

“Anyway, we both have to get out of here anyway, so it’d be good to help the kid while we’re at it. I’m John Doe. And this is Martina.”

“I am Martina, assisting John Doe-nim.”

“Uh… huh…”

I introduced myself first, beating them to the punch, and Martina offered a courteous greeting.

Aaron’s gaze somehow fixed on Martina and wouldn’t budge, but Martina, as if having no particular thoughts, blankly returned behind me.

‘This AI is not without thoughts.’

‘Oh dear, this humble servant was mistaken.’

Idly pressing Martina’s head with my hand, tormenting her, I looked at the other two. Since they were just as stuck, they hesitated, then grudgingly nodded.

“Haa… I was going to go home and eat some pizza, but I guess there’s no helping it. Call me Wade.”

The katana woman, Wade, grumbled in a tone suggesting she was tangled in something troublesome, but at the sound of military boots outside the door, she leaned her back against the partition with a reluctant expression.

“Normally, this shouldn’t be happening, but… Anyway, my name is Patton.”

The bespectacled guy, Patton, as if concerned about the outside, looked through his x-ray glasses, and after confirming they hadn’t been discovered yet, he turned his head back.

“Alright. We’ll get to the details later. I have a plan.”

Client, Aaron.

Mercenaries, John Doe. Martina. Wade. Patton.

The five of us put our heads together and whispered a plan to escape this shitty terrorist-attacked market.

***

“Ugh… Did it have to be here?”

Wade, where had her cool demeanor from earlier gone? She wore a nauseated expression, as if about to vomit, and barely followed behind me.

Of course, the others didn’t look much better, and if it had been my first time, I would have been puking all over the floor too.

“I’m about to puke too, so don’t talk to me.”

My escape plan was as follows.

A sewer passage located 2 meters beyond the bathroom window.

Descend through it, enter the sewer, emerge in the next block, beyond the masked figures’ encirclement, return to the parking lot, retrieve the vehicle, and head straight out of Eclipse Point.

They would be preoccupied with the internal search, and by then, the EPSB would have arrived, so hiding in the parking lot would be simple.

Although there was a minor drawback: the need to endure the offensive stench of the sewer and carry it inside the car, what else could we do?

Still, since we were only going in and out briefly, a bath would probably get rid of it.

Clank!

After about 10 minutes of navigating the confusing, intertwined sewer passages underground, I found a manhole, opened it, and breathed in the fresh (though mixed with exhaust fumes, not with pungent ammonia) air.

“Haaaaaaah!! Ha!”

Aaron, perhaps unfortunately lacking a bronchial filter, had turned a sickly yellow and was desperately gasping for air the moment he emerged.

Wade and Patton covered their mouths, seemingly unwell, and were looking for an area where they wouldn’t be fined for vomiting.

“…Ugh.”

Martina, who had come to fully appreciate the benefits of taste, with her head assaulted by overwhelming olfactory stimuli, looked as if the world had become cursed, and gazed up at the clouds floating in the bright blue sky.

Though it was only a display in the upper city.

Still, that was Eclipse Point’s only welfare, so enjoy it to the fullest.

“Well, we really did escape somehow… I thought you had a sewer map or something, but to enter the sewers without one…”

“What’s the need for a map? Just wander around and a manhole will turn up.”

“It’s so complex that it won’t work that way, which is why a map is needed… No, never mind. Are we going straight away?”

“Of course.”

Thanks to the citizens who instinctively moved aside to avoid the smell, I quickly reached the occupied fresh food market in the next block.

Come to think of it, Martina had carried something out without paying.

I glanced back, and Martina’s shopping basket had already vanished from her hand.

‘She threw it away…’

Indeed, I wouldn’t want to eat food that had been in the sewer either.

“Release all hostages and surrender. If you don’t surrender, we will storm in.”

We, stealthily blending into the crowd and slipping into the parking lot, watched the standoff between the EPSB and the criminals.

The EPSB, a club used to beat the common people, had apparently crashed several cars and were now re-surrounding the market, which had no entry points, while announcing their demands to the terrorists.

If the criminals don’t respond, Dex will come and infiltrate the building, find all the hostages dead inside, and the criminals will all have committed suicide – that’s the scenario I’m picturing.

Bang!

But contrary to that expectation, the head of the patrol officer who had been warning the criminals with a megaphone was blown off.

It was a sniper shot from a third-floor window.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Call Dex!”

“Shields up, you bastards! The criminals killed an officer! Requesting backup from HQ!”

“Aaaaah!!”

“Goddammit. They were crazy bastards.”

“Th-they’re really da-dangerous people.”

“What kind of guys are they?”

The onlookers scattered in confusion, and the patrol officers retaliated with their pistols and shotguns, initiating a gunfight.

Hiding amidst the commotion, I reached the parking lot and finally got into the car. Feeling the rough vibrations of the engine through the steering wheel I gripped, I asked Aaron about those guys.

“…Fifty Star. They’re a mafia formed by former United States military personnel.”

“Hey, John. Can’t I get off even now?”

“Hmm…”

“Unfortunately, if you get off now that the car has started, it’ll hurt a lot.”

“I’d rather just hurt.”

Ignoring all the complaints from the back seat, I stepped on the accelerator and drove down the road.