The Security Team Interview (2)
I had called the applicants out to the zoo and ran a quick head count. Somewhere around a hundred people had applied, and not a single one of them had failed to show. I gave a small nod and set about sorting them, dividing the crowd the way one splits team leaders from ordinary staff. The two groups would be doing slightly different work, so there was no avoiding the distinction.
Once they were sorted, I decided to run the staff-level skill test first.
"Staff-level applicants, please gather over here. Team-leader applicants, stand by for a moment!"
At my call, most of them came surging over in a rush.
I led them off on a circuit of the enclosures. I meant to hire people capable of beating the animals, which meant they would have to face those animals head-on. We began with the deer, the opponent the greatest number of them had chosen. Among the zoo's animals, setting the small ones aside, the deer was the most manageable of the lot — a gentle creature that latched onto anyone holding a carrot, and one the children adored for exactly that reason. Plenty of people had assumed, accordingly, that it would be easy to beat.
"To start... anyone who does not possess a Superpower related to the body, please step forward."
Not one person among the several dozen moved. From the outset, I hadn't so much as glanced at anyone who lacked a relevant Superpower. I had promised high pay, and these were people who would be charged with my family's safety, so I had set the bar at those who possessed Superpowers. Truth be told, without a Superpower that acted on the body, there had never been the slightest chance of beating the animals in our zoo.
At any rate, once I had confirmed that no one present lacked a Superpower, I handed a helmet to each of the people who meant to take on the deer.
"Why do we have to wear helmets?"
"Well, even if you get hurt, you shouldn't get hurt badly, should you?"
"Ah... yes."
My answer left the applicants looking a little sour. They were body-type Awakened Individuals, and their faces said it plainly enough: you think we can't even handle a single deer? In a way, they seemed to feel slighted, as if I had implied a deer might actually injure them.
Even so, they didn't appear minded to refuse my instructions. They jammed the helmets onto their heads and waited.
"Then I'll call you by name, in order. First, Mr. Gi Duk-bae."
"Yes."
"This is for Mr. Gi Duk-bae, but it goes for the rest of you as well. This is a test to see your skill. The animals won't be trying to hurt you, either, so you only need to go far enough to show what you can do. Harming the animals is not the point."
At that, the applicants nodded or answered in loud voices.
With the warnings given, I went straight into the match between the deer and Gi Duk-bae.
The two came lightly face to face — no, one man and one deer — and each dipped its head. Then, as if that were the signal, both of them charged.
"Ghk!"
But the instant they collided, Gi Duk-bae let out a short cry and went down. The deer had reared and brought a forehoof crashing onto his helmet, and the sudden heavy blow to his head knocked him out on the spot.
"Eek! H-he's dead!"
"He isn't dead."
I brushed aside the other applicants' startled cries and roused Gi Duk-bae where he lay sprawled. The deer hadn't attacked in earnest, and a few shakes were enough to bring him around.
"Coming back to us?"
"What... happened?"
"You took a forehoof stamp to the head."
When I showed him the helmet I had pulled off, shock jumped across his face. A dent had been driven into it in the shape of a deer's hoof. I helped him to his feet and handed the helmet back.
"You can try again. Want another go?"
"...Yes! Only, would it be all right if I used a little equipment?"
He wasn't entirely free of fear, but Gi Duk-bae found his nerve and challenged the deer once more. He drew out a sturdy telescopic baton, took it in hand, and squared off against the deer again.
Perhaps because he had already felt that attack for himself, he closed in carefully, then drove at the deer as it moved to swing a forehoof a second time. He caught the descending hoof squarely on the solid length of the baton, seized the opening, and kicked the deer's hind leg out from under it.
The deer lost its balance in a flash and collapsed in a heap. Gi Duk-bae climbed on top of it and wrapped the baton around its neck as if to choke it. It wasn't actually tight enough to strangle, but the deer seemed to sense its own defeat and offered no resistance.
"Good. Then we'll move on. Mr. Kim Dal-hak."
Beginning with Gi Duk-bae, who had subdued the deer, the others started taking their matches one by one. A few of those who had watched his helmet cave in, and seen him briefly knocked unconscious, did forfeit and flee, but the bouts went on all the same.
About half seized the advantage against the deer, and of the remaining half, half again managed to beat it by a hair. The rest either fought to no decision or lost outright.
"I lost to a deer...!"
A man whose muscle was no joke at all lay sprawled on the ground in full flight from reality, then shuffled off for home. I didn't spare him much attention, and moved on to the next match.
"This time, it's Wonsungi."
The star of this bout was Wonsungi. Lately he had been pairing with the balloon-art employee and going around doing balloon art as a duo, and because of that, people seemed to be taking him lightly. Of course, true to an animal of our zoo, he was anything but frail.
"Ack, ack! That stings! S-stop!"
Gripping a thin twig from who knew where, Wonsungi slipped lightly past the challengers trying to catch him and made sport of them, using the twig as a switch and striking them all over. Worse, he aimed with stubborn precision at places neither clothing nor protective gear covered — the nape, the ankles, the wrists — so the challengers had no choice but to feel every bite of it.
For a while the matches went on that way, with Wonsungi delivering a stinging lesson. And once he had left switch-marks across a great many bodies, he began peeling a banana with a thoroughly satisfied look on his face. He let out a mocking screech of a laugh — kkik, kkik — and some of the challengers turned resentful. They had reason to. They had taken nothing but the switch, and never even managed to get close.
I gave them another chance, but nothing of consequence changed. Catching Wonsungi, who dodged with blinding speed and even made use of the terrain — the nearby lampposts and the like — was an exceedingly hard thing to do.
"All right... we'll leave Wonsungi there. Next is the wallaby."
I called over the wallaby that had been scratching furiously inside its pouch — its brood pouch — off in a corner.
Once again a match began between a challenger and the wallaby. The wallaby, still fresh from scratching at its pouch, came bouncing over in cute little hops, then suddenly sprang.
"Wha—!"
The challenger was aghast when the wallaby leapt up out of nowhere and snatched him by the collar. But what it did next left not only him, but everyone, aghast.
"Guhk!"
Still clutching his collar, the wallaby kicked him away with its well-developed legs, as if shoving him off — a kick like launching itself off the challenger as a springboard. Struck by that powerfully driven blow, he went rolling across the ground several times over before he finally stopped.
"..."
Those who had dismissed the wallaby as a great deal smaller than a kangaroo were stunned. Not one of them had imagined a mere wallaby could put out force like that. And then came the teabagging. Watching it insult and mock the one it had beaten, they were more stunned still.
Some, having seen the fallen challenger's head get sucked straight into the wallaby's pouch, gave up on facing it altogether.
Even so, it wasn't any quicker than Wonsungi, and one by one people began to claim victories against that wallaby. The animals may not have been ordinary, but neither were the people challenging them now — every last one of them held a body-type Superpower. A Superpower that strengthened the muscles, a Superpower that hardened the body itself, a Superpower that granted the trick of shedding impact: armed with every sort of Superpower, it was possible.
Even among people with abilities like those, the outstanding ones began taking victories over the animals, and before long the mid-sized animals' turns came to an end and the large animals' turn drew near. Every one of them, moreover, belonged to the predator class.
"All right... what's left now are creatures that more or less count as predators. We'll start easy, with the Asiatic black bear. He isn't fully grown yet, but he's one of ours, so he has more strength than your average adult. Be careful. Mr. Kang In-hwan?"
"Don't you worry."
At my words, a challenger stepped forward with confidence written all over him. Judging by muscle thicker than anyone else's, his strength alone looked like nothing to scoff at. He walked out in front of the Asiatic black bear with a proud stride, and perhaps because of that confidence, he even seemed larger than the bear.
"Much obliged, bear. Show me what you've got."
Unlike me, he had no means of speaking with animals, and yet he offered a casual greeting all the same. Then he seized the bear by the scruff.
"Oh..."
He must indeed have held a Superpower tied to strength. Still gripping the scruff, the challenger threw the bear clean over — like a judo throw, hooking him lightly across one shoulder and flipping him with the full power of his body.
"That's plenty."
I stopped him as he closed on the Asiatic black bear — flat on the ground, wearing a dazed look — to flip him a second time. Thinking that I absolutely had to hire this one, I called the next challenger.
And because they had named large animals as their opponents, most of them were confident in their own ability. The greater part held their own even against animals like bears and tigers, and went on winning. There was even a woman who endured the crushing force Bbwoobbwoo brought down through that mighty trunk.
Having confirmed that there were people exceptional enough to withstand even an elephant's strength, I finished out the remaining matches and went straight into the scoring. Selecting chiefly those who had won against three or more animals, or who had beaten predator-type animals, I was left with close to thirty people.
Figuring there was no harm in a large security team, I decided to hire every one of them, paid those who had failed a fairly generous interview fee, and sent them on their way. It felt less like wages for their trouble than like money for medical treatment.
They hadn't passed, but once the failed applicants saw the size of that fee, they headed back looking reasonably satisfied.
With the failures sent off, I turned my attention to those who had applied not as staff, but as team leaders.
"All right, then. Shall we have a look at the team-leader skill test?"
At my words, the people who had merely trailed along behind — reacting as if they were sightseeing something remarkable — looked at me with nerves drawn suddenly tight.
But what I was asking of them differed a little from what I had asked of the staff level.
"From here on, you'll be forming teams with the people who passed. You'll be the ones devising methods of protection and the tactics to go with them, so I'll need to see that ability. Form teams with the successful applicants, and I'll hire those of you who clear the mission I give you. Please put your teams together right now."
Almost before the words were out of my mouth, those who had applied as team leaders moved in on the people who had passed. They clustered around the ones who had shown outstanding skill, but in the end everyone came away with a team they were more or less content with.