Chapter 145
Chapter 145
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 145
Chapter Title: Sewer Snakes (1)
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Screeech—
The rusty hinges screeched like they were clawing at his ears as the door swung open.
It was the kind of sound that made him grimace instinctively, but Jo, Dual Pistol Sam, and the burly man showed no reaction—they were clearly used to it.
Following them inside, Oliver took in the dirt-caked floor, cobwebs draping the ceiling corners, and the lone desk standing in the empty living room.
A map presumably of X District was pinned to the desk with a knife, and beside it lay the wanted poster and documents for the Kell Free Independence Army executive that Oliver had handed over to Jo.
Oliver had given them to Jo at his request when they agreed to work together, as a sign of his genuine intent to collaborate.
Forest had said there was no issue with lending the materials, either.
'As long as you bring in the executives, the city won't care who you team up with. It's results that matter, not the process.'
That was why he'd handed them over.
Oliver unconsciously scanned the X District marked on the map.
For a rundown area, X District was surprisingly large, backed by a massive river.
'And across the river lie Y and Z Districts. Looking at the map, it's clear why X is their borderline.'
Oliver committed the layout of X District on the map to memory without thinking.
"You don't need to study it that closely."
Jo spoke up as Oliver peered at the map.
"Pardon?"
"Looks like you're trying to memorize the terrain, but no need. This map was made based on the planned post-development layout, so beyond rough topography, it's useless. Development stalled halfway."
"Ah... How did that happen?"
Dual Pistol Sam chimed in.
"The district councilor siphoned off the development budget, got caught, and was ousted. Then came a string of terrorist attacks and accidents. Bad news piled up, and with no councilor to represent the district, development naturally ground to a halt. Left it like this. They say it was meant to be a decent industrial zone."
Hoo... Interesting. Oliver hadn't realized rundown X District had such a backstory.
Sam lit a cigarette as he answered.
"These days, folks don't even know who's living next door—it's a cold world. Other districts probably have no clue. But everyone around here knows. Especially the old timers, always lamenting how good it was back then."
Sam's voice mixed regret, pity, and irritation.
Oliver reflexively started to ask if it had really been better to live there back then, but Jo rapped the table—tap-tap—to cut off the conversation and prevent any leaks.
"Enough with the useless history lessons. Let's focus on the job. That's why we're all here, right?"
Sam nodded while smoking, and Oliver nodded too.
Jo was right. They needed to concentrate on the work.
With the talk back on track, Jo began with a briefing.
"First, I'll go over what I've investigated."
Oliver nodded.
In exchange for being included, Jo was handling the X District search.
Jo pointed to the broadly marked red area with a red pen.
It was the inner part of X District, adjacent to the river.
"You might not know, but Landa attracts a surprising number of fugitives—not just domestic, but foreign ones too."
"I know. Forest told me recently."
Forest had said it was easy to hide with so many people, get information, and best of all, no foreign military searches—perfect for fugitives.
"Good. Ones with money and solid connections usually hole up in J District. Crowded, easy to blend in, plenty of spots to crash. No money but decent connections? They hide on the outskirts of the laborer districts. Lots of foreigners there, so no one stands out."
Oliver nodded. He hadn't known such details—impressive.
Then a question arose.
"What about no money and no connections?"
"Then they hide here."
Jo pointed again to the red-marked inner Landa area.
"Poor folk, thugs, human traffickers, mutants everywhere—dangerous, sure. But cops don't come here. If you've got strength, it's a decent hideout. Gangs'll do odd jobs for pocket change too."
"Ah, I see. But it's a wide area. Did you find their hideout?"
"Well... not exactly. I found guys who might know."
"Guys who might know?"
"Yeah."
Jo pointed to a spot as he replied.
A factory near the sewers.
"Gang based here. Name's Sewer Snakes."
"Sewer Snakes?"
"Yeah, named after the snakes in the sewers. Filthy, cunning bastards. Side gig: hiding fugitives. They probably know something."
"Why's that?"
"Their food purchases spiked recently. Canned goods, bread, booze, smokes. Only one shop in the district sells groceries—Lansky's General Store. Solid intel."
Jo pointed to a large warehouse building a few blocks away.
"Only one general store?"
"Told you this place is rough. Think many could open up and survive here?"
"Old Lansky's basically the street boss, that's why."
Dual Pistol Sam cut in.
"Street boss?"
"Nothing fancy. We call anyone who can throw their weight around in the area that."
Oliver nodded.
"Anyway, asking the Sewer Snakes should turn up traces of the guy. I'd have dug deeper myself, but going solo might cause issues..."
Jo trailed off, glancing at Oliver's expression.
He seemed worried Oliver might take offense.
Contrary to Jo's concern, Oliver was plenty satisfied.
A lead had emerged, after all.
"Sounds good. Shall we move now?"
"Yeah, but first, meet the team. Gotta sync up."
Jo gestured to Dual Pistol Sam.
"Sam. Met him in the contaminated zone, right?"
"Yes. Long time no see, Sam."
Sam eyed Oliver briefly, nodded, and gave a polite greeting in his own way.
"Yeah, been a while."
Jo nodded and introduced the next one to Oliver.
Younger than Jo and Sam combined but bigger and heavier-looking, a young black man who seemed barely out of his late teens.
"This is Owen. New to Fighter Crew."
Owen bowed politely, belying his size.
"H-Hello, sir?"
"Hello."
Oliver returned the greeting while sizing him up.
He looked anxious, intimidated.
Not Oliver's call, but he didn't seem fighter material.
At least, none like him among those Oliver had fought.
"As you see, green kid, no experience. But his strength is the real deal—no worries there."
Jo was half-lying. He trusted Owen's power, but not fully. It was the personality issue.
'Even he seems riddled with self-doubt.'
Oliver thought, staring at Owen.
Jo noticed and asked,
"...Uncomfortable? We can drop him. Dave—you're the strongest here, brought the job. Your call."
Owen startled and blurted loudly,
"I-I'll be useful! Take me! I'm confident in my strength!"
Less confidence, more desperation.
Fear, duty, anxiety, courage—all churning stickily.
Oliver wanted to know why he pushed through the fear.
When Oliver asked, Dual Pistol Sam answered for Owen.
"What else? Money."
"Money?"
"Yeah. Gotta eat. Notice anything coming here?"
"Hmm... People hiding, watching?"
"That's part, but... No real jobs here. To make a living, you risk your neck like this. Especially with family."
Sam pointed at Owen.
"Don't pity him, though. Born here, that's fate. Shut up and follow. Decide if you're taking him. Better for everyone if not useful."
With Sam clarifying, Oliver's curiosity eased. He looked at Owen, who tensed.
"One of the targets solo ambushed and killed dozens of soldiers. You okay with that?"
Owen hesitated, then nodded resolutely.
"Yes... I'm prepared."
"Alright then. You're in."
Owen sighed in relief. Jo and Sam donned jackets, pocketing knuckles, pistols, pipe bombs.
Everyone brimmed with motivation.
"Still, this crew feels light. Grab more?"
"Splits the take more ways. Risk vs. reward, this is perfect."
Sam asked, Jo answered. Oliver interjected.
"Short on numbers?"
"Obviously. Hitting a gang for intel, ten-plus bounties listed. Four's pushing it."
"How many more?"
"Well... Three, four pros would make it safe."
"Ah... I see. Three enough?"
"Huh? Y-Yeah... Got some? But splits?"
Oliver shook his head casually.
"No problem. No cut for them."
Oliver opened the leather case at his waist.
"Big Mouth. Mind helping me out?"
Oliver walked the street with three people and three corpse dolls.
He usually trailed or walked abreast, but somehow he ended up in the middle.
Jo's group on one side, dolls on the other.
Odder still: Jo, Sam, Owen eyeing Oliver and the dolls—black mage, sniper, rags—with tension.
For reference, the three dolls wore longcoats and hooded cloaks from a thrift shop, covering fully—not too weird at a glance.
'Probably.'
He'd planned artificial skin and makeup for realism, but his skills were lacking, so bundled in clothes.
'Looks fine, so why? Awkward walk?'
Oliver eyed the shambling dolls.
He turned to Jo.
"Seem really off? The dolls?"
Jo flinched.
"No, not that. Just... you made 'em?"
"No. Picked up a few in the contaminated zone, repaired. Only made one from scratch."
"Ah... Got it."
"Yes."
"......"
"Something to say?"
"You... Never mind."
Jo trailed off unusually. As Oliver probed, Sam cut in.
"Jo means the... dolls?"
"Black Mage, Sniper, Rags."
"Ah... Anyway, they won't go berserk?"
"No, good kids. Well-behaved."
The Childs inside responded, turning and vocalizing.
"Grrr..."
"Kya..."
"Tap-tap-"
Very polite. But Jo, Sam, Owen stepped back half a pace.
"A-Anyway, tell 'em to pipe down. Can't look weak to Sewer Snakes, but too scary's bad too. Goal's talk."
Jo pulled a bag with 5 million Landa—bribes. Fugitives fetched hundreds of thousands to ten million, so plenty.
Moments later, the Sewer Snakes' abandoned factory base came into view.