Mission Log 003 - Too Many of Me (5)
"What, can you just switch up your personality settings like that? While you had the helmet on, you didn't seem like you at all."
7436 couldn't tear her gaze away from me as I reported without the helmet, her eyes carrying a hint of awkwardness. Thanks to her keeping her promise, the distance between us had shrunk considerably.
I gripped the helmet on both sides with my hands and squeezed lightly, crushing it until it looked like shattered plastic panels. I dangled the wrecked helmet in front of 7436's eyes.
"People get bold when they can't see a face. Boldness lets you do things you normally couldn't. And there's no better way to hide your face than blending in among similar ones."
At my words, 7436's eyes sparkled a little. Posters of Bella models just like her plastered the walls of that company building, but every one of those Bellas had eyes fixed in a uniform, focused stare. In that sense, this human-like reaction felt more than novel—it was a bit overwhelming. Maybe it hit harder because it was the moment she'd escaped her three-day death sentence.
After shining her eyes for a good while, she spoke. Calling her 7436 from now on would be tough. A new name would change how we addressed her right away.
"So... my face could be useful too? There are tons of Bellas. If I just freeze my expression, I could pass for any of them. Right? Who'd suspect a Bella?"
"If you hadn't pulled that hostage stunt, maybe no one would fear Bellas... but after that mess, I doubt anyone will trust one completely anymore."
I wished I could feed 7436 only good news, but the world was mostly harsh. Good things don't come until you seize them. If the Half & Half Corp incident somehow blew over, it'd be her lucky break. People forget easily. Once they started ordering Bellas again, her face would have value.
Valentina's car pulled into Yakyeong's parking lot. I stripped off the Half & Half jacket, stuffed it into a prepared trash bag, and got out. 7436 had to wait a moment—she couldn't look like a Bella. After changing into tracksuit and helmet inside the car, courtesy of Valentina, she stepped out. Valentina drawled in her usual lazy tone.
"Don't be like thaaat, Boogeyman. 'A Bella tried to kill someone!'—not everyone's gonna freak out over thaaat. Most'll just go, 'Oh, it's fine now?' and move on. Riiight?"
Inside the car, she'd had that manic gleam about speed creeping back, but now on the ground, she was her typical drawling self again. It was almost funny.
We headed up to the office. Despite our big detour, we seemed to arrive late. The president, waiting in the reception room, approached first and extended her human left hand to me. I shook it with my left.
"Even without Arthur, we could've hired a newbie. Even if you hadn't gone there, nothing would've happened to us... but what does that matter? We got the best possible newbie we could, and that newbie stepped up to save the company. Maximum efficiency achieved."
People outside Bellwether might chalk it up to "well done" within limits, but it wasn't. That was the highest praise a Bellwether person could give.
She approached 7436 next. Mercenaries don't sell marksmanship or stealth—they sell trust. 7436 had kept hers. Yakyeong had to keep ours too.
"Bella 7436, pick your own new name. We'll hire you as an external contractor and provide your identity. Then we'll end the contract, setting you free. As an official Bellwether partner, Yakyeong's guarantee will keep suspicion off you."
Pick your own name. I couldn't imagine how long 7436 had waited for those words. Hiring as external meant we'd let her walk anytime. Yoon continued.
"Bola will recommend a modder, and bill Enzo for the costs. If you want to join Yakyeong full-time, I'll train you myself. What do you think?"
As the Bella said, she had a face optimized for infiltration. If I handled rear strikes, she could stroll through the front gate in a slip.
"Lemme think a bit more! I feel useful now. Seeing this guy get thanks straightens my shoulders too. I wanna prove my worth. But... on the other hand, I kinda wanna be normal. I don't wanna be one of those gun-toting Half & Half drags after being hauled by them."
She knew the difference between Yakyeong and Half & Half. But a gun was a gun, no matter who held it—a barrel was a barrel.
That 7436 Bella had bought her freedom became clear from President Yoon's next words. She'd bought freedom, and respect came bundled with it.
"Then take your time. The urgent issue's resolved. With no one unavailable, we'll proceed with the 8 PM public patrol assist as planned."
Though "proceed as planned," the job she'd picked was simple patrol support. Fitting the name, we'd ride in the van with Bellwether urban response all night, looping LA and returning. No direct intervention—others handled that. It wasn't typical 40s bid-rank work. New companies took these to learn patrol routes and van ops. So it was basically vacation.
Not quite rest, but paid rest—the best kind. After crashing in the on-call room post-job, I had no plans to sleep that day. Most others, tense since morning, napped in the office too. Bola dragged Valentina for drinks; Yoon and Enzo left early. Kay bolted home. Only Eve and I returned—to grab her bike.
We were alone more often lately. I didn't want to VR train solo in the on-call room till dawn, so I called to her heading downstairs.
"Ah, uh, sunbae!"
Calling her Eve in my head but "sunbae" out loud wasn't easy. She turned.
Our eyes met again.
"What's up, Arthur?"
Her voice had regained its chill. No clue why. I had shallow reads on others, but Eve remained unpredictable. Maybe Hollow Creek trauma kept her walled off—but she was honest with worry and understanding. Walls existed, just invisible.
"Thought we could grab a drink. Don't wanna sit in the on-call room like guard dogs while everyone's off."
Still, her voice started cold. A brief silence, then it warmed.
"Mia... uh. Hmm... Tough. Sure, one drink. I'll buy. You haven't gotten paid yet. Don't wanna eye my junior's emergency fund."
7436 slept under a blanket on the office sofa, so we locked up and stepped out into the dawn air. Smog was milder then—maybe humidity settled it, or sunlight worsened it. Who knew.
Eve handed me a canned beer from the nearby convenience store after buying two. She sipped first, coughing from the cheap fizz, then spoke softly. She'd grabbed the wrong brand, probably.
"Ah, sorry. Thought it was that one from last time."
Hers was totally different from the one after Osguard—only packaging color matched.
"That one was smoother. I knew you weren't all ice and steel... but this is unexpected."
Her gaze sharpened—prim, really. She sipped carefully, then said,
"Not trying to guilt you, but Hollow Creek only had communion wine. Explains why I skip wine and suck at picking booze like an idiot."
Hollow Creek pricked lightly—shallow guilt from eavesdropping her story on some unknown persuader's word.
"Sounds like you're saying I should feel guilty..."
She let out a small laugh at my blank tone—first time for the sound, though I'd seen the lip curl.
"Pfft, sorry. Acted like a bitch. Thanks for lightening the mood, Arthur. One more thing—wanna hear? You can get mad."
"Anything. I'm not that hot-tempered."
My instant reply got an instant counter—like she'd expected it.
"That's why it's harder to say. You won't snap."
If Hollow Creek followed, guilt might sting... but no.
"I was gonna chew you out. Did you have to kill that retrieval team for 7436? I just... hate seeing deaths. Even on a Posthuman IV tough as hell—I'd helmet a bike on it. Remember?"
Her glare from before still chilled my spine. If she were mutant, I'd be dead twice. But she hadn't raged—just distanced coldly, apologized vaguely, and now drank with me. She knew it was for Yakyeong—for her too. Suppressing emotional allergy rationally? Impressive.
"You didn't. So I'm good."
I brushed it off casually; she shook her head. Her words poked my story.
"Some thoughts are sins too, Arthur. You were wrong. Not 'it's fine'—I'm asking forgiveness..."
Bellwether discharge flashed—branch chief calling my survival grasp a mindset issue as I died. I clenched molars briefly. But before me wasn't him. She drew lines firmly yet understood more. She overlapped some scene too. I didn't know it—just hazy streetlight halos through smogged humidity, like weed smoke, on LA roads.
"It's important to me too. Thoughts aren't sins. Only if they spill out—but ones born and dying in your head? Can't judge. If they are, I've got one to confess too."
She didn't push "thoughts can sin." Curiosity mixed with anxiety.
Beer fizzed too much for her. Worry showed—her prosthetic hand trembled holding the can, forcing a switch to hide it.
"What? Spill. I... dunno. Unless you background-checked me, you can't know much."
Good I wasn't that type—probably only megacorp data teams were.
I tapped my earlobe—Posthuman IV hearing pinpointed.
She still looked blank.
"I heard you talking to 7436—from outside the office wall. Just curious why you cleared the room."
I skipped if it was Enzo or mishearing—stuff I'd have ignored anyway.
"Hearing what's audible isn't wrong, but Posthuman IV dulls senses for shock. I meant to... but didn't. Yeah. Eavesdropping's worse, so now I need forgiveness. Right?"
"Y-you think saying it now gets my forgiveness?"
Not accusatory—flustered. Voice unlike her.
I shook my head clean.
"I don't plan that thoroughly off-hours. Just saying I'm not saintly enough to judge thoughts as guilty or not. I've screwed up too—feels off taking apologies without owning mine."
I poked near my heart twice—no beat in four seconds.
She looked down, searching words. Minute of silence. Dawn ending—sun soon.
Eve continued from what I'd overheard—stuff 7436 missed.
"Even after leaving Hollow Creek, too many 'mes' surrounded me. All same. But... you're different, Arthur. Okay. Forgiven. Cheers?"
"Still don't think thoughts are sins... but if you want, forgiven. Cheers."
Cans clunked dully—no sparkle, but sound enough. Eve's anxiety faded.