Rose received the baton from him… Kouhei.
No matter what tragedy occurs, there are always those who profit from it.
War is no exception. Behind the war, which claims countless lives and scatters innumerable tragedies and comedies, the merchants of death laugh heartily.
And in the chaos of war, I too profit. The opportunities to take advantage of the confusion increase.
After all, I am currently without a fixed address, unemployed, and possess neither identification nor money.
And I have to aim for Terukyo in this state.
Escaping the laboratory, I arrived at a town called Pranabury.
It’s located in what would be northern Thailand on Earth. Last night, I snuck into the cargo of a transport ship and successfully infiltrated the city.
I spent the night on a park bench and, as the sun rose, washed my face at a fountain.
When I was in Tokyo, I often saw homeless people. I, who used to mock them as losers, am now a proper homeless person. …Karma comes around, huh? This must be the retribution for mocking strangers without understanding their circumstances.
New discoveries were also made. Cardboard is warm. This World seems to lack human warmth, though.
What I need for now is money. How should I get my hands on it?
Make money from the literature and music I’ve memorized? …No. Even if I wanted to do that, I need seed money. Isn’t that what this is all about? My ideal scenario is to draw in some irreproachable person and become a ghostwriter.
Theft? That’s difficult. I could easily sneak into a slum dwelling, but they live in slums because they have no money. And if I go to a wealthy residential area, security is tight, and more importantly, in this get-up, I’d be suspicious just walking down the street. Besides, I can’t pick locks.
Robbery? With this Wolf Eye, it might be possible. But if I commit a crime with *this* face, Kanata might be bothered. A large-scale war is currently erupting. That means Kanata is likely on the battlefield. In that case, my alibi would be proven.
I hesitate to take money and valuables from good people. If I’m going to do it, it should be from villains.
Villains, huh? This is indeed a world overrun with lawless ruffians in the wilderness. If my opponents are those wilderness outlaws, I won’t feel any pangs of conscience.
Hmph, I, who are willing to do anything for my family, will not worry about appearances at this point.
For now, there are two pistols in the luggage I brought from the helicopter. I’ll keep one and sell the other at the black market.
Then, I’ll lie low as a homeless person, waiting for an opportunity, and find a fence in the slums.
Having subsisted on the money from selling the pistol and continuing my life as a homeless person for a week, I’ve started to get a grasp of the situation.
First, there are no pursuers after me. There might be, but a large-scale investigation network that would post my photo hasn’t been set up.
Secret research that cannot be revealed to the public, and the laboratory exploded; there shouldn’t be any survivors among the central figures.
They haven’t learned that I’m alive, have they? No, it’s dangerous to be optimistic.
However, it’s certain that they can’t set up a large-scale investigation network. Even if they know I’m alive, they’d try to dispose of me secretly.
In my previous world, military satellites would have tracked the helicopter and I would have been captured, but in this World, the military satellites are out of control. At least, they haven’t figured out which direction I fled in yet.
And I’ve also come to understand the atmosphere and situation of the slums, or rather, the streets.
The giant city-states are composed of an extremely small number of privileged classes, citizens with citizen IDs, and illegal immigrants.
The privileged class resides in the city center, outside of them are the citizens, and further out are the illegal immigrants – a layered city like a tough Baumkuchen.
This seems to be the structure not only in Pranabury but in all giant cities.
It’s like America, where democracy doesn’t function. The existence of illegal immigrants is tolerated.
It’s also very similar in terms of wealth concentrated in the hands of a very small number of the rich.
And the further you go towards the outer rings, the worse the public order becomes. In fact, I was attacked twice at night.
If I weren’t a super-soldier, I wouldn’t have gotten away unscathed, but I repelled them and extracted information.
Those who rob others must have connections to fences.
And so, I learned of Samsai, a fence who buys stolen goods from the Road Gang.
Once I know that, the rest is simple. I just need to mark Samsai and use my directional hearing to pinpoint the transaction location.
The warehouse district of the Traders Guild; that was Samsai’s transaction spot.
On a moonless midnight, I, wearing a hooded coat, hid in a corner of the warehouse and waited for the transaction to begin.
It seems true that villains prefer to conduct their dark dealings in warehouses.
It’s like a cheap crime drama. No, a crime fiction.
The only difference is that they are about to commit real crime, not a fictional one, right?
The shutter opens, and the dazzling headlights illuminate the inside of the warehouse.
A trailer truck has entered. It appears to be the Road Gang’s arrival.
…How careless. They should check inside the warehouse. There might be intruders here.
After holding my breath for a while, a jet-black luxury car and a large van enter.
It’s Samsai and his bodyguards. Now all the players are assembled.
“Yo, brothers. Come to sell the goods again?”
The tattooed man, who seemed to be the boss of the Road Gang, spoke to Samsai, who wore an expensive suit rather cheaply.
“What’s inside the container?”
Samsai, having his bodyguard light his cigarette, puffs on it. Yeah, yeah, these are suitably fitting actors for a seedy picaresque theater.
“Brand new motorcycles made by Ares Heavy Industries.”
“Oh. You managed to get your hands on them?”
“We formed an alliance with other groups. Even then, quite a few of us were killed. So, you’ll have to price them accordingly.”
“Open the container. Let’s see the goods.”
“Open the container. But before you go in, let us confirm the goods too.”
“Alright. Show them.”
One of the bodyguards opened the briefcase, which was attached by handcuffs, and showed the cash.
“You’re not going to pull a fast one with fake bills, are you?”
Samsai grabbed a wad of bills, making sure the tattooed man could see, and flicked them with his thumb.
“Very well. Check the goods.”
Now that the confirmation is done, let’s see the trust relationship between these villains.
I disengaged the safety on the pistol I kept, activated FCS, and from behind the container, I shot two bodyguards and shouted.
“We’re taking the money! You fools!”
Now, let’s see how they react. Before watching from a distance, I should move first.
“You bastards betrayed us!!”
“Wait!! It wasn’t us!”
The tattooed man protested, but Samsai didn’t believe him. Naturally. They are the Road Gang, who will steal anything they can.
A gunfight immediately breaks out. The villains, using cars as shields, have no time to pay attention to me.
Although the Road Gang had superior numbers, the bodyguards seem to be more skilled.
With numbers and skill balanced, the fight is even, and casualties on both sides diminish nicely.
Alright, that’s enough. I jump onto the container from a blind spot and shoot down from above.
Shooting from above is advantageous; it pays to study.
“He’s on top of the container! He framed us!”
“Son of a bitch! How dare he mess with us!”
With four from the Road Gang and Samsai and his two bodyguards gone, if the numbers are reduced to less than half, I might manage.
Take this, my Wolf Eye!
“Gaaah!” “Gyan!” “Hieee!”
I killed three. Four remain. After hiding, I’ll deploy the Psyche-Barrier.
I’ll use momentum and grab onto the crane’s chain, Tarzan-style!
Drawing an oval within the warehouse, I fire all remaining rounds with FCS auto-attack, and then my Wolf Eye!
Under inertia, I land on the ground while making a U-turn, and only Samsai is breathing.
“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”
I deflect Samsai’s wild Man-Eater shots with my Psyche-Barrier. As Kanata taught me, the trick is to deploy it at an angle.
The shots fired… 3, 2, 1, 0. I deactivated the Psyche-Barrier.
Samsai keeps pulling the trigger, but only a dry, clicking sound is heard.
“…An amateur. You don’t even calculate the remaining ammo count.”
I’m an amateur too. But I’m more *studious* than you.
“Who… are you!”
“I’m a villain who devours villains. And tonight’s prey is you. You’re unlucky.”
“M-money? I’ll give you money! T-take it!”
“I don’t need you to tell me. By the way, there’s a famous quote. Do you want to hear it?”
As I picked up the gun rolling at my feet, I whispered.
“W-what is it! Say it!”
“Let this be your final lesson: ‘You only get to shoot if you’re prepared to be shot.'”
“Wait….”
Wait, you fool. After finishing Samsai, I shot the handcuffs of the bodyguards and obtained the attaché case.
A cigarette rolled out of the dead Samsai’s pocket, so I picked it up and put it in my mouth.
Then, I lit it with my *fingertip* and blew out a plume of smoke. The cigarette, smoked for the first time in 20 years, was bittersweet.
The warehouse, which should have been silent, but the rustling of clothes was heard behind me.
“…Stop it. You’ve got your life back, haven’t you?”
“Sh-shut up. You… I’ll kill you!”
I clasped the knife coming from behind me, fixed it under my armpit, and grabbed the tattooed man’s chin, retaliating with pyrokinesis.
“Higeaaaah!”
Discarding the profusely burning corpse, I began the cleanup.
If military personnel see the bodies killed by my Wolf Eye, my survival might be revealed. All bodies should be cremated.
I gathered the corpses in one spot, poured industrial oil, and ignited it with pyrokinesis.
Turning my back on the group cremation, I boarded the container and lifted the sheet covering the motorcycle.
Heh, not only money, but they even prepared a motorcycle for me. I seem to be a lucky man.
I’ll gratefully borrow it and take off on the stolen motorcycle.
Murder and theft, I’m getting quite good at crime.
However… riding away on a stolen motorcycle isn’t a bad feeling either.
It seems I have the personality of an outlaw.
