Mission Log 005: Don't Let the Witch Live (2)
If I call the security team directly, a few from the mobile unit would show up, and only after the report goes up the chain would someone of supervisor rank or higher arrive. But reporting through Stephanet was different. It would go straight to Shepherd One, and the personnel management team would get looped in too—potentially pulling in everyone from the chairman down to all of Yakyeong.
Witnesses needed to be maximized. Their ranks needed to be as high as possible.
Tina finally emerges slowly, pistol in hand. I hadn't woken her—no time for explanations—but the gunshots must have done the job. She asks with an uncharacteristically anxious look on her face.
"What the hell is going on? Who are those guys in the office?"
"Bellwether Law Assassination Team. They broke in armed; I took them out. Got their van pinned and called security, so no worries. Probably."
I can see her usual laid-back expression crumple into irritation. Because of the dead intruders already? Maybe. Or...
The mutant living in the fire escape stairs. Tina's the only one who uses those stairs. The boss knows about that space too. No way she'd miss a mutant knocking on my wall now and then.
Putting it together... she probably knows about the mutant.
And I'd seen her once before, talking like she was relaying info from someone else in Yakyeong—someone I didn't know. Back during my first interview, when she checked if I was on Bellwether's blacklist.
Tina had phrased it like she was passing on word from someone. Is that unknown Yakyeong employee the mutant hiding in the walls?
Logic leads to the most absurd conclusion.
Better to stay quiet about the mutant for now.
"Posthuman IV is great and all. Got a bit anxious before bed, focused my hearing, and boom—heard the van pull up right outside the office."
Only after my deadpan deflection does Tina's expression ease a little.
If that mutant could mess with the Law Assassination Team's heads through the windows from inside the walls, she could've tipped off Tina too.
Tina finally mutters in a voice drained of all strength. Five minutes later, the white glow of Bellwether security vehicles starts flickering from afar.
"Too damn nice to call her the Boogeyman..."
A helicopter beats the lead vehicle there. It hovers overhead before the sound even registers—nearly silent. Assault Team 1 in person.
The report's contents are obvious.
Instead of landing, a few sealed reinforced suits leap from that height. No active gunfire on the street, so no shooting descent.
At the front... Shepherd One. Only his custom suit has fluorescent paint smeared like war paint over Bellwether's pitch-black sealed reinforced armor, glowing faintly blue. In the dark, he's all you see.
And he's the type who doesn't care if all the bullets pour into him. Hell, he'd rejoice if they did.
For a report of the Bellwether Law Assassination Team getting hit in downtown LA, a team leader showing up personally fits.
Shepherd One spots me and activates his suit's speaker.
"Stand down, Arthur Murphy, regular employee of official contractor Yakyeong. We've received a report that Law Assassination Team members were attacked during duty. Bear with us."
"Their 'duty' was breaking into Yakyeong's office fully armed. Not even knocking during business hours—they targeted the predawn when key staff were gone and came in through the windows."
A tongue-click echoes from his suit mic. Deliberate, like he wants me to hear. He doesn't like this either. They let my lack of immediate disarmament slide.
"Is this how the Law Assassination Team conducts normal operations? This is just a contractor employee exercising basic rights. Per the charter and bylaws, I demand Bellwether's explanation first—you broke trust."
The bylaws are absolute. They must be. Reality's harsh, but Bellwether idealists strive to uphold the charter and bylaws.
Built on that trust, I say it. The security chief lowers his muzzle first. Only then do I flick my control to safe and drop mine. No need to holster.
"I don't know either. Law Assassination refused to provide mission docs. Said since it's security alumni, security handles it... You sure your record's fully wiped?"
"Stephanet didn't even remember me—if so, it's officially gone. Why would Law Assassination..."
Something's off. Isn't personnel management the one building a private army? Bellwether branch distrusts security officially, and Law Assassination refuses docs. Maybe internal ops against security.
The biggest roadblock to a corporate civil war? Security, loyal to the company, chairman, shareholders. LA branch security too.
A bit more waiting, and the boss arrives. Gunfire-shattered office and half-wrecked van front glass make the situation clear enough.
"Arthur Murphy, regular employee—report. What happened?"
I turn, muzzle still low, and see her face full of shock and worry. Reassured, I speak.
"Two Law Assassination agents broke into the office. If they'd come during business hours, I'd have offered tea. But fully armed after key staff logged off, they fired first—no choice but to neutralize. Found their van, pinned it, called security... and here you are, chief."
The mutant hammered their heads with sonic blasts, so they fired first. I omit anything unfavorable but keep it truthful enough.
This is my chance. Safest way to hand that severed Bellwether-stamped doc to security.
The boss shoots me a look; I nod subtly back.
"If you haven't inspected inside yet, better check first. Verify Arthur's account. How about we go in, confirm, then call the full investigation team?"
"Out of respect for the contractor, agreed. Everyone, hold position."
Once they're up, a team-leader mute field maybe—no sound for a bit. They're back in under five minutes.
Shepherd One in sealed suit steps out, sighs, and lightly punches the Law Assassination van. His fist dents the hood—unscathed from my drop.
"Testimony checks out. These Law Assassination fuckers tried to invade, got counter-killed. Any employee disagree this isn't how Bellwether treats contractors?"
He's emotional. Personnel management, now Law Assassination clashing with security—it's obvious.
Something's wrong. Security's hostile to Law Assassination too. Mutual distrust.
Reason security's the biggest enemy in a civil war? The branch rallies around them against it.
Not much time before evidence recovery and cleanup hauls bullets, bodies, traces.
Ill foreboding crawling up my spine, I approach Shepherd One. Clear my throat.
"A word, security chief. Just... personal speculation..."
Air shifts around us. Mute field up; he removes his sealed helmet, eyes me.
"I don't know Bellwether politics well, but cooperation seems shit. Between departments. Law Assassination not helping security..."
"You saying security's not helping Law Assassination either? Refusing docs while accessing wiped intel?"
Mutual distrust. Worst scenario, whoever's plotting.
Mute field flickers like it's ending. Need time for one more line.
"Since when?"
That question buys seconds more. Guilt shadows his face—expression of a shepherd who failed his flock.
"Jarin-ah terror. We wrapped it, but too quietly. Couldn't show the city a massacre. Couldn't gun down hundreds, thousands. That's it. Got it?"
"That's not the issue! Security protects Bellwether, not itself. Mutual distrust is inefficient, betrays duty! Remember that!"
Even Shepherd One doesn't know what to do. Can't trust each other; distrust scares, betrayal terrifies. No one knows the right path.
Blood winds coming to Bellwether.
He refuses answer, drops the field, dons helmet. Too many to answer to. Can't blindly trust.
Shepherd One and Assault leave; mobile wraps basics, confirms his words. Few days, it'll end with compensation.
If Law Assassination won't cooperate, that's all he can do. Distrust binds hands and feet. Betrayal severs them.
Cleanup arrives; two hours later, office quiets again. No mutant mention.
Mutants leave circumstantial evidence. Why they fired at the ceiling first? Mystery, but can't yell "mutant!" suddenly.
Bullet holes unfilled, reception sofa shredded beyond lounging—but incident closed for now.
I sit on the backless sofa, facing boss and Tina. No words come.
Not fear of reality hitting. Predawn hit targets someone here, not the company. Probably me.
Seemed like execution over gag order breach, but no certainties.
Boss and Tina's silence has other reasons.
Breaking it takes courage. Words chosen carefully. But one anxiety I can kill directly.
"She told me. The woman in the walls. Who is she? Why keep her secret and make me suspicious?"
Face shadows head-on. Side-glance makes them loom larger; only straight-on shows true size.
Boss sighs.
"Someone still on Bellwether time—waking at security shift o'clock. Introducing a mutant's a big gamble. Planned to once you settled."
Can't deny. First thing I did when mutant spoke? Draw gun. Didn't think company.
Didn't tell me who, but Tina beside her speaks.
Maybe not shark-breathing that hardened her.
"My little sister. What she said flipping my runaway boss's car wasn't 'sharks breathe without swimming' but..."
"'Need a driver. Slightly more normal than a street racer. Hiding sis eats street racer's shaky income.' Right?"
The hidden side of the shark tale. Near blackmail.
Boss eyed me like she craved talent. Must've been worse before.
Reasons aside. Yakyeong has mutual trust; positive security ties I don't hate. Good enough.
World too complex sans computation aid. Implant doesn't simplify everything.
Bellwether's mess is theirs. Hope raids end here; if not, prepare. No means to meddle in politics.
Not my company anyway. They made it so.
Heart unrested, brain overloaded—no good answers.
Need to cool off. Company secrets not that dangerous or gross this time.
Some relief, I say.
"Guess... time for intros. Was about to crash when she warned of company—got me up. Cool my head too."
Valentina's personal tale, seemingly normal. She nods eagerly, leads me to her on-call room.
Opens wall-matched door, steps out. Fire escape per boss, but spotless—no junk, unlike her words.
Of course. Bellwether type wouldn't warehouse here.
Compare building blueprint in head to my space. Slight gap. Narrow, but fits one person.
Eyeball it, follow Tina; she knocks lightly on dead-end wall—stairs down, nothing else.
Wall cracks open. Inside, woman with light brown hair like Valentina. Similar features, but fear over poise.
Never empathized with mutants. Cancer. Witches. Excise, burn fast.
Never imagined terror feeling terror.
But not now. Before mutant, she helped right time, right way.
Bellwether-taught mutant hate shelved; extend hand.
"Didn't know another company senior. Call me Arthur casual."
Classic Bellwether security vibe; hesitation, but she takes my hand.
Posthuman IV grip crushes; hers frail. Aberrants signal odd but lack something—easy to spot, sort.
She yanks back at feel, cradles hand, whispers hoarsely.
No hearing issue.
"Nadia. You're... tingly. Looks human, talks nice, smiles... but not human. More than Bola."
"Posthuman series military augment, not general android. Flesh-wrapped machine. In this body, born-with is..."
I tap my head—signaling inside contents—grins.
"Just the core. More machine than Bola, yeah. Anyway, thanks for the save. Sorry for freakout on your aberration. Background."
Overdo thanks, sorry—people convey, hear third max. Ninefold ensures it lands.
Distance from messy head; be the good guy I want. Precious time.
Excuse to linger.
"You know Bellwether teachings. But no worry. Forgot fear to help; I shelve inefficient hate gladly."
Efficiency is all. Fuels this hyper age. Efficient good; inefficient evil.
Nadia's aid? Peak efficiency.
Calm thanks, apology; she uncurls a bit.
How'd wall-see me? Unknown, but not mutant hater. Shattered when I aimed; now piecing shards.
Nadia whispers fear-tinged.
"Th-thanks... not reporting to security. Sorry deceiving. Lifedebt to shepherd..."
"Thanks to you, no bullet in sleepin' head. Even. One thanks, one sorry each."
Law Assassination dawn horrific; Nadia morning less so.
For me, probably her too.