Chapter 146
Chapter 146
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 146
Chapter Title: Sewer Snake (2)
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The abandoned factory serving as the Sewer Snake gang's base was near the sewers, so the air was rotten.
The air throughout X District was bad, but this place was especially foul.
"Hey, who the hell are you guys?"
A buzz-cut man wearing only faded jeans, his upper body bare, menaced them with an old shotgun.
His naked torso was tattooed with phrases like . It didn't look like it was just for style.
The man aimed his gun barrel at Oliver's group.
The corpse doll growled at the sight, but Oliver quickly calmed it down, so there were no issues.
Jo assessed the situation, then stepped forward a few paces and soothed the buzz-cut gangster.
"We're not here to fight. We want to see your boss."
"Why do you want to see our boss?!"
The buzz-cut gangster excitedly swung his gun toward Jo.
For some reason, the man's emotions were unstable. He reminded Oliver of the drug addicts he'd seen back when he was Joseph's disciple.
His unstable emotions and resulting excitement lowered his fear and fueled his aggression.
"We've got business to discuss. We didn't come empty-handed, so don't worry."
"Worry my ass! Who's worried?! You think you can threaten the Sewer Snakes in this neighborhood? Bang! Fuckin' shit!"
As the excited buzz-cut gangster shouted, other gangsters nearby began to gather.
Six gangsters armed with crossbows and pipe bombs climbed onto containers near the warehouse and took up attack positions. Eight more armed with trench clubs, shillelaghs, blackjacks, and shotguns gathered near Oliver's group.
Owen panicked and grabbed his iron club, while Sam placed his hand on his favorite pistol, but Jo held them back.
"Like I said, we're not here to fight... We just want to talk."
That was when it happened.
"Wait, Knuckle Jo and Dual-Pistol Sam?"
A man who seemed to be the leader of the gatekeepers spoke while holding a crude submachine gun in one hand.
"What brings outsiders from the outer areas all the way inside?"
"You guys still dividing things into inner and outer zones?"
"We divide them because they're divided... That why you're here? To argue about it?"
Jo looked displeased but didn't pursue it.
"Nah, not here to argue... Can we meet your boss?"
"Hmm... What's it about?"
"What do you mean 'about'? It's business. We didn't come empty-handed, so relax."
Jo showed them the envelope of money as he spoke.
"Ha... Come alone, and I'll take you to the boss. Why'd you bring your whole crew?"
The gangster said, eyeing the group behind Jo.
Oliver stepped forward and asked,
"Sorry, but could I come in with him too?"
"...Who the hell are you? Never seen you before."
The gangster stared at Oliver and asked.
"Hello. I'm Dave. I work with Jo. Sorry, but could I join him to meet your boss? I'd like to hear the details myself."
"Hahaha..."
The gangster laughed. His underlings followed suit.
But just as suddenly, the laughter stopped, and he pressed the gun barrel to Oliver's forehead.
"Where does some no-name punk get off demanding to meet—"
"Kyahaha!!"
Second—the low-rank hunter possessing the corpse doll—let out a massive roar and aimed its gun.
It pointed two sawed-off shotguns at the gatekeeper gangster while lifting guns with its six arms on its back and sides, targeting not only the nearby gangsters but even those far away on the containers.
Click-click-click-click-click-click—the sound of rounds chambering.
The posture looked awkward due to the many arms, but those experienced in violence could tell how precise the aim was.
At least six or seven of those eight arms would hit their marks.
The gangster at the receiving end of the two sawed-off shotguns blurted out,
"...L-Let's talk this out."
Though not intentional, Second's timely intervention convinced the gangsters, allowing Oliver and Jo to enter the factory.
For security reasons, the rest had to wait outside, but it wasn't a bad outcome.
It was only fair, considering their position.
"Whoa..."
They passed the factory exterior, packed with cover like cement-filled drums, barbed wire, massive wooden crates, and containers, and went inside.
There were quite a few people inside, too—not much fewer than outside. Roughly twenty to thirty?
They didn't look wealthy, yet their numbers exceeded Murphy's Kimball Family.
"Pretty big crew, huh?"
Oliver whispered to Jo, who answered with an exasperated but polite tone.
"This place is full of guys who'll join a gang just for food and a bed."
"Ah, I see..."
Indeed, the factory was packed with gangsters, but their quality didn't seem high.
Most were skin and bones from malnutrition. They were on par with the gangsters Oliver had faced when retrieving Professor Herbert.
'Of course, not everyone's like that.'
"Grrrrrr...!!"
A man who looked different from the others burst out with the clank of heavy chains, threatening Oliver and Jo.
Fortunately, massive chains bound his neck and limbs, preventing any real trouble, but he still exuded a menacing aura.
Even hunched over, he was over two meters tall, with highly developed muscles that gave him a beastly presence despite being human.
Most striking were his protruding forehead, deformedly developed jaw, and protruding fangs atop it—you'd be torn apart if he bit you even once.
His eyes blazed with fear, terror, and the resulting rage as he growled at Oliver.
The guiding gangster patted his chest in surprise and yelled,
"What the fuck! These are guests! Can't you keep this shit under control?"
"S-Sorry. Sorry... Hey, dog, sit."
"Grrrrr!!"
The big-jawed man growled threateningly at the fat gangster who'd given the order.
Given his size, the fat gangster broke out in cold sweat and flinched, but only briefly.
Other nearby gangsters joined in and subdued the big-jawed man.
"Fuck! Get the pole! The pole! And the electric shock baton!!"
"Just a sec! I'll grab 'em now!"
"Ooh, feisty... Starved for two days and still full of energy."
"Perfect! Once the boss breaks him in, no one around here will mess with us!!"
Oliver watched, wondering where he'd seen someone similar, then remembered.
He resembled the big-jawed guy who'd fought alongside Jo when they first met.
A Fighter Crew member, called a mutant.
As Oliver was about to mention it, he noticed Jo radiating sadness.
Jo watched uncomfortably as the big-jawed man, who looked just like his acquaintance, was subdued and beaten. He looked like he'd stop it if he could.
"S-Sorry about that. Let's continue."
Following the guide's words, Oliver and Jo kept walking.
They arrived at a factory office accessible by stairs. The guide spoke to the two gatekeepers at the entrance.
Unlike other gangsters, these two wore masks and had massive musculature.
Even more than Jo. They reeked of drugs or enhancements.
Despite their differences from the others, they shared one thing.
Their bodies—chests, heads, arms—bore tattoos like .
What could it mean?
The conversation ended, and the guide approached.
"All set. Follow these guys now."
One masked gatekeeper slung a massive hunk of metal—axe or sword unclear—over his shoulder and nodded. Follow him.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
They climbed the metal stairs, each step echoing, to the second-floor office.
"Come in."
The voice came from beyond the door as they arrived.
The masked gatekeeper opened it and nodded. Go in.
Oliver and Jo entered the office, hit by a foul smell, clutter, and one man.
Oily curly hair, unkempt short beard, prominent cheekbones, deeply wrinkled cheeks.
But most striking were the thick-framed glasses.
They gave him a weak impression, masking his sly, cunning vibe.
A short but long silence.
Jo cleared his throat and spoke.
"You're the Sewer Snake's Gail, right?"
"That's me. Gail. And judging by your build, you're Knuckle Jo."
"......"
Jo was slightly surprised. No info leaks—how...?
Gail, the Sewer Snake boss, pointed at Oliver.
"And you're the one handling the corpse doll...?"
"Yes, that's me."
"Impressive. Really... Just handling a corpse doll shows some skill. May I have your name?"
"Dave."
"Dave? ...Ah, that Dave making a name in T District lately?"
"You know me?"
"Heh heh! Living out here doesn't mean I'm deaf. Quite the opposite—ears perked up. Gotta be sharp when you're weak. Heh heh heh. Nice to meet you anyway. Honored to meet an outstanding black mage."
"Aren't you a pretty outstanding black mage yourself, Gail?"
Jo flinched, as if he hadn't known.
"Heh. Thanks for the praise. But I'm third-rate among third-rates, running a small gang in this shithole."
Oliver tapped his face, gesturing to the gatekeeper's mask.
"For a third-rate, that mask was pretty sophisticated."
Gail's sly smile froze. The cunning aura behind his glasses sharpened.
Surviving X District's inner zone wasn't just luck.
"Oho... Sharp eyes."
"Not sure myself, but it seemed that way."
"Heh. That's talent. The haves and have-nots see it differently. Jealous."
Gail smiled slyly again, but now it seemed hollow, the mask peeled away.
Clap!
Gail clapped his hands.
"Well, greetings done. Business time? You said you had something to discuss?"
"Uh, mind if I buy some customer info?"
Jo pulled out the envelope—five million randa.
"Looks like five million randa... Big money. Especially in X District... Looking for the Kell rebels?"
"...!"
Jo was surprised again.
Gail looked dull and lazy, but knew plenty.
Jo didn't show it and countered,
"Since you know, you're hiding them, huh."
"Hiding? Just advised a good spot, took money for errands. That's it."
"Then tell us where."
"Well... This business runs on trust. Can't just spill."
"How much more?"
"You misunderstand. It's trust... Rumors of selling out customers kill future business."
Not wrong, but Jo pressed with a glare. Thinking of alternatives, Gail spoke as if struck by inspiration.
"But there's a compromise."
"Compromise?"
"Yes. Your customers paid big, but they've overstayed, eaten plenty—now in the red. They say they'll connect with comrades and pay soon, but uncertain."
"Uncertain?"
Oliver reflexively asked.
"Yeah, this line of work attracts weirdos who stiff you. Can't report to cops, so honest gangsters like us suffer... Payment due at dawn. If they bolt before, I'll hand over info. Not betraying a customer, and you get what you want. Fair?"
Jo asked,
"How'll you let us know if they run?"
"We have our ways. Don't worry..."
"...And if they pay?"
"Tough to share then. Can't sell out a paying customer... But don't worry. Feels like they'll skip."
"How do you know?"
"Just do."
Jo and Gail stared down. Jo tossed the envelope.
Gail pocketed it, sealing the tacit agreement.
Oliver followed Jo out but paused and asked Gail one thing.
"Mind if I ask something?"
"What?"
"What does 'Survive' mean? Saw it tattooed on your guys."
"Ah, nothing much. Just our creed. Survive. Primal life urge? Gotta have faith to live here."