A Perfectly Reasonable Negotiation
Shifty.
Quite apart from the rather cute name, she had been a mystery wrapped in a mystery right up until the moment she took off her suit. Encased in that armor, she evoked the image of heavy machinery — a low, voice-modulated growl layered on top of a stiff, clipped manner of speaking, the whole package radiating a crushing sense of weight and pressure.
Of course, all of those impressions evaporated the instant she was released as a playable character and stepped out of the suit.
Who could have guessed there was a beauty like that hiding inside it?
The reaction back then had been, let's say... memorable.
Anyway...
That silver-haired, crimson-eyed beauty was currently sitting across from me, wearing the most serious expression imaginable as she combed through every page of the documents I'd handed over.
"Understood. I have comprehended the mission completely," Shifty said, giving a firm nod as she flipped the last page. "In short: go and destroy everything."
"No! You understood absolutely nothing!"
The words burst out of me on pure reflex.
"I made a judgment based on the intelligence provided. The target unilaterally severed their dealings with us, placing the organization at a strategic disadvantage. Conclusion: a forceful response is required to recover our position—"
"Forceful response does not mean walk in there and smash everything to pieces!"
Shifty tilted her head slightly. "...But if they resist, we would have to destroy them. Correct?"
"That's — that's the last resort! To put it precisely: we escalate physically only if persuasion fails, or if the Association's heroes get involved."
I pressed a hand to my forehead and swallowed a sigh.
So this is the ditziness the players used to talk about...
Inside the suit she'd seemed like an emotionless robot, but the moment she actually opened her mouth, something was clearly a screw loose.
"What we're after this time is recovery, pure and simple. Information, supply lines, relationships — ideally we get all of it back. And to do that, we have to talk first. We can't just blow the place up the second we walk in."
Shifty nodded silently. Then she faced forward again and murmured, "...And in the event persuasion fails?"
"In that case..."
I closed my mouth for a moment and let my gaze drop. "We blow it all up."
"Understood. Committing that sequence to memory."
"....."
I was a little worried, honestly... but even so, having her along had to be better than going alone.
Same day.
With help from an esper who wielded spatial abilities, we arrived in front of the logistics center far faster than I'd expected. One moment there was nothing but empty gray street; a few steps later, the target building stood right in front of us.
An imposing steel fence, surveillance cameras, and entrance sensors that looked reassuringly thick. Even at a glance, this was no ordinary facility.
Well, they certainly prepared thoroughly.
Before going in, I paused to check myself over. My current identity was officially registered as a missing person — but that didn't mean I could let it leak out here. A voice-modulating mask, topped off with a black suit.
Mm. Good. Absolutely flawless.
If I looked in a mirror right now, I'd see a proper scheming mastermind of a villain staring back at me. Satisfied, I turned around — and there stood Shifty, fully suited up, along with five organization members on standby.
We weren't a large group. Drag a big crowd along and we'd get spotted in no time, obviously.
"So... everyone understands? Two of us go in — me and Shifty. The rest of you handle external surveillance. The moment you see any sign of a hero approaching, you report. Immediately."
"Yes, sir! Understood!"
They answered my question at impressive volume. Was that good training, or had nerves simply cranked their voices up? I couldn't say for sure, but at least the responses were crisp, and I appreciated that.
"Let's move."
At my words, Shifty gave a silent nod, and the two of us walked toward the center's main entrance without another word.
The moment we reached the front doors, an automatic recognition sensor flickered to life. Its blue light blinked like an eye, then quickly shifted to red.
Access denied. No registrant data found.
No mechanical voice sounded, but the rejection was unmistakable. They'd scrubbed us from the database entirely.
Well... they deleted us first, so I don't owe them any courtesy.
I slowly raised my hand. The instant my fingertips gave the faintest tremor, the flow of air changed. The delicate terminal structures connected to the sensor unit swayed, thin as threads, without a sound.
Screeeech...
A sharp metallic groan rang out as my telekinesis seized the locking assembly inside the recognition device.
Crunch.
I twisted. The mangled internal circuitry tore loose and clattered to the ground.
Psychokinesis. The ability I'd gained upon entering this world. It wasn't some flashy power that conjured fire or ice, but at this level of control, it was more than practical enough.
After that, I carefully pushed inward, and the door swung slowly open.
Inside was noisier than I'd expected. I could feel the workers' eyes on us as we passed, but I paid them no mind. Nobody was going to strike up a conversation with a man dressed like this.
"One heat signature. Second floor, conference room direction," Shifty whispered in her low, modulated voice.
Waiting for us, is he?
A few days ago, I'd sent him a threatening little message using the money he'd quietly siphoned off as leverage. An anonymous account, a pseudonymous signature, and a whole lot of we know what you did smugness — with one final line added: we'll come calling today, at this hour.
Given this reaction, the bait had worked. Which meant there was room to negotiate.
We passed the working staff and climbed the stairs. At the far end of the second floor, one door stood out glaringly from the rest. Ornate gold trim, a handle of utterly absurd proportions, and glossy black paint polished to a mirror shine.
Leave it to guys breaking the law for a living to slather on the money like that.
The moment I opened the door—
"You stupid bastards! Did you really think I'd cooperate?! Like I'd put a leash on for the likes of—!"
A booming laugh rolled out.
BOOM!
In an instant the walls on every side collapsed outward, and masked, armed mercenaries came bursting through.
"All units — open fire!"
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat—!!
The space was saturated with lead in a heartbeat. Bullets came pouring down amid the shriek of torn air.
"Haah... I gave him every chance, and this is how he acts..."
I raised my hand, and the hail of bullets froze mid-flight. The psychokinesis I currently possessed wasn't overwhelmingly strong, but something as light as small-arms rounds I could handle with ease.
"Returning them now."
I swirled my hand in a lazy flourish, and the suspended bullets turned their edges. With a scream of cleaved air and a short, vicious ring of steel, the rounds shot back — along their original trajectories, at their original speed.
Crack.
The very next instant, the returning bullets punched into the mercenaries' heads, and red sprayed across the floor.
"....."
Silence settled over the room once more. I pressed my lips together quietly and looked to the center of the conference room, where the officer in charge sat frozen solid.
I walked over to him and slowly lowered my head until our eyes met.
"Well then... shall we begin the negotiation?"
Across the desk, the man was drenched in cold sweat. He probably understood, intellectually, that his situation wasn't fatal. The dead were the mercenaries he'd hired; he himself was still breathing just fine.
But... being alive also meant he still had options.
The desk between us was bare. No documents, and I hadn't bothered to take out so much as a pen. I had packed them, originally... but with the mood having cratered this far, there was no point in bringing them out.
"Cutting the supply line — was that your decision, or did it come down from above?"
The man drew one deep breath and opened his mouth with a trembling voice. "The Association came to us with conditions. As you're no doubt aware, they're the official channel... we had no choice but to side with them. And—"
"Whether the Association is official or not is none of our concern."
I cut him off short and folded my arms. "What I'd like to know is whether, even once, you thought about your relationship with us when they made their offer. We're simple creatures, you see. We believe every action carries a price."
The man's Adam's apple bobbed.
"Then... what is it you want."
Look at that. This type always learns to talk when it counts.
At last, the shape of a very reasonable negotiation had been assembled. I silently slid a single sheet of paper across the desk.
"This is..."
"Our demands. You're short on time, so here's the short version."
I counted them off, one finger at a time.
One. Full restoration of the existing supply line. Two, all equipment delivered to the Association from now on gets downgraded to outdated models. Three, new-model weapons and gear go to the organization on priority allocation. Four, zero mention of this entire incident — ever. Five, everything you received from the Association, along with every document you hold on them, handed over in full.
"That will be all."
He sucked in a breath. His face said it all: you expect me to accept all of that?
What do you want me to do about it, you little — you're the one who broke the agreement first.
You chose betrayal. So you'd better grit your teeth and see it through, one way or the other.
"You're welcome to keep cozying up to the Association, if that's what you'd prefer. However..."
I let the words hang for a moment, then let my gaze drift down to the space behind his feet — to the pooling blood.
"That choice might reduce your odds of walking out of here alive. Considerably."
The officer clamped his mouth shut and looked away. "...The materials are mostly compiled. I can send them right now."
"Good. Then from this point on, think of it less as a negotiation and more as an alignment of interests. Ah — and send the files to this address."
At my words he sprang out of his seat, hurried to the monitor, and began hammering at the keyboard.
This is wrapping up more easily than I expected — was exactly what I was thinking when—
[C-Closer, sir!!]
A fairly frantic voice crackled through the radio. First things first — I turned the volume down.
"Report."
[It's a hero!]
"Which one?"
[It appears to be the A-Rank hero, Valkyrie!]
Son of a—
Of all people, the protagonist had to show up now.
[Do not worry, sir! I, John, shall stop her!]
Just as I was weighing my options, a voice bursting with confidence blared through the radio — so loud I flinched.
"...John?"
[John! The one carrying equipment at the warehouse the other day!]
Ah. That John.
The strong one whose brain left a little to be desired.
"Shut up and hide. What are you planning to beat the protagonist with? She's A-Rank, for god's sake."
[I've got this!]
Brimming with confidence, that answer. And then, through the radio, came one icy word — move — followed by a very short scream.
"......"
John... you are so, so weak.