Chapter 13
Chapter 13
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: Bogers Gang (2)
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Shadow hung heavily in the dark room.
A holographic mirror ball illuminated the pitch-black interior with a soft glow.
The lyrics of an old jazz pop song, sung by a male vocalist, echoed through the room.
A man with half his face covered in twisted tattoos sat on the sofa, listening to the song.
His name was Bogers.
He was the leader of the Bogers Gang, which had recently gained a fearsome reputation in Area 49.
In truth, gangs in Risk City were like mayflies—dozens popped up and vanished every day.
The Bogers Gang hadn't escaped that level yet either. No matter how famous they got, they were still just mayflies.
Therefore...
The Bogers Gang was on the cusp of a very important turning point.
"Boss..."
"Hm."
A nonverbal cue to get to the point.
Bogers valued this rest time, when he could relax and enjoy his music.
Every time his illegally implanted mana circuits burned, soothing music eased the pain bit by bit.
"...Wasn't the truck a bit much? I know you think highly of that kid, of course."
The cause was the three gang members sent as a warning—their vital signs had flatlined.
Hearing the news, Bogers had ordered ten armed men to raid the grocery store with a bulletproof-modified truck.
Whether it was just an ordinary store or backed by some organization with ulterior motives...
It sounded excessive.
The subordinate swallowed hard.
Based on Bogers' usual behavior, his reaction was predictable.
But even to his subordinate's impertinent remark, Bogers didn't raise his voice.
"Come here."
He crooked a finger quietly, beckoning the subordinate closer.
The gang member stopped in front of Bogers.
Crack!!
His head snapped to the left.
A drop of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
"How do you feel right now?"
"...I'm sorry. I was impertinent."
"No, I'm asking sincerely."
For delivering such a stinging slap,
Bogers' expression was surprisingly indifferent.
He seemed still focused on enjoying the song.
"...Well."
A slap always ruined the mood the moment it landed.
But the subordinate couldn't voice his honest feelings.
- Hey, he says be honest.
- Oh? This guy's actually being honest.
- You think military life is a joke—
That's how these things usually went.
Every veteran knew the flow.
Bogers continued amid the gentle jazz pop, as if he hadn't really expected an honest answer.
"You must feel like shit. How could you not, after getting slapped?"
"......"
"So what should you do? Hit me back to feel better?"
Bogers shook his head.
"No, that's not it. At least you'd need to pull the gun from your pocket to feel better."
"...Pardon? No, that's not it."
"Hah, you idiot. Don't you get metaphors? It's just a figure of speech."
He sank deeper into the sofa, wrapping up his point.
"What I'm saying is this: In Risk City, no one turns the other cheek. So if you're going to slap someone, smash them so thoroughly they never even think of retaliating."
The subordinate couldn't lift his head.
Bogers' words felt directed right at him.
Seeing his reaction, Bogers grinned, flashing chrome-plated teeth.
"Scaredy-cat."
Bogers slowly closed his eyes.
He focused on the air currents and the music.
The bullet was already fired anyway.
He just had to wait for the results.
"Enough. If that's all, get out. Handle things yourselves unless it's major."
"Got it. Then I'll come back lat—"
"Shut up for a sec."
"......??"
The sudden curse.
The subordinate clamped his mouth shut.
His still-stinging cheek helped with the quick decision.
And soon...
"Hah, damn it."
Bogers let out an irritated sigh.
"Should've slapped him harder."
Right after those words...
A truck—moving like its brakes had failed—pulled up to the Bogers Gang hideout.
—KABOOM!!
Quite roughly.
Wait, hold on, Hotdog Man.
Calm down first.
No, it's not motion sickness from the truck driving.
Yes. No injuries. I barely managed to buckle up.
No, that's not what I...
This really doesn't seem right.
Of course, three in the vacant lot. Ten at the grocery store. Seven here at the Bogers Gang hideout.
That's already twenty gang members you've taken down, but who knows how many more are waiting above. So...
Hold on, I wasn't done talking!
It was a perfect 100-point surprise attack, since the enemy didn't see it coming at all.
Even I, riding in the truck with you, didn't expect it, so I get it to some extent. Your strength is just unreal.
So my question: Are you really not from some corporation or noble family? You're not? Well, alright, noted.
This way. Matches the layout from my cyberware eye records.
The boss, Bogers, is probably at the top floor. Assuming he doesn't come down after hearing the commotion.
Uh, Hotdog Man?
If that blows, we're all dead.
The old building's already fortified into a stronghold with crap facilities, and messing with the gas lines... What? Our building got smashed too?
...Understood.
At least, let's time it to blow on our way out.
Fewer people with full cybernetic bodies than expected.
Well, ones usable for daily life and combat are expensive. It's all about price.
For example, if someone had a cannon instead of a hand on their arm, fighting would be easy, but daily life? Tough.
...You know someone like that? Name's Rockman?
That's wild.
Hardly any gang members in sight now.
Makes sense. I'd run too if one guy was smashing up a whole intact organization.
We're two people? ...All I've done is guide and sigh so far.
Hard to believe less than twenty minutes have passed. Truly impressive.
Hm? Your anger's cooling and you want to head back? You're joking, right? Haha, good one.
Ah, this is the top floor.
The boss's room is straight ahead.
And since it's the end, mind if I ask... Can I get the name of Hotdog Man's organization...?
"I told you, I don't have one. How many times do I have to say it?"
What organization?
Liberra overheard my lie to the thugs, so now I'm stuck with this needless misunderstanding.
Michael let out a hollow laugh.
"Honestly, it's hard to believe, and you know that, Hotdog Man. How can someone who crumbles a gang barehanded be a civilian?"
"Someone turned the entire underworld against them just to avenge a dog and a house. Could happen."
"...Who?"
Such a person exists.
Mr. Wick.
Anyway.
I can't conjure an organization out of thin air.
If I keep denying it, maybe I'll prove my innocence without crying someday.
"You could've made a name as a merc."
Listening to Michael for a moment—
A sharp chill ran down my neck.
I grabbed Michael's collar as he walked down the hall and yanked him back.
Bang!!
A gunshot echoed through the corridor.
If I hadn't pulled him, Michael's forehead would've had a massive piercing.
"It's not over yet."
"...Thanks."
The thanks were fine.
He trusted me and came to guide the way; protecting him was the least I could do.
Beyond the bullet-holed curtain at the hall's end.
"Ho, dodged it."
Thud. A pistol hit the floor.
A vicious, filthy, stinking-looking man in the room glared at me.
"You're the burger guy, Bogers or whatever?"
"Bogers."
"Same difference."
Still mixes me up.
"I'll ask once: Why'd you fire a truck at someone else's house?"
Didn't think "fire a truck" would fit so well.
Bogers shrugged at my question.
"I like keeping complicated things simple. Too bad the bullet missed."
Free lunch type.
Wonder if he likes sushi too. Noted.
"You just sat here listening to music?"
"Rest is important."
Honestly, didn't expect him here.
He must've heard his men's screams.
Just sat upstairs.
"Doesn't suit a boss. You can hear your men crying from here."
"Nah. Bunch of idiots; annoyed me."
Bogers rose from the plush sofa.
"The Bogers Gang exists because of me anyway."
"Hah, narcissist? You know it doesn't suit your face."
Unless he's self-destructive.
No normal person runs a gang in a cyberpunk world.
'Didn't notice while he was sitting...'
He's over 2 meters tall.
I'm tall now too, but nothing compared to him.
And thick muscles.
Must mix protein in his meals.
And half his face tattooed.
Truly vicious.
Bogers' blazing eyes glared sharply at me.
"...No cybernetic implants at all. Amazing. A pureist in this era. Not from an organ farm either."
Should I teach him about body, hair, skin from parents?
Nah.
"Must've taken down all my men to get here. What are you? Esper? Augmented human? Gene synth? Or..."
Bogers stroked the tattoo covering half his face.
Soon, red energy surged from the black tattoo.
"A mana user like me?"
"...??"
Mana what?
Oh, right.
This isn't a plain cyberpunk world.
I looked at Bogers in surprise.
Can he spit fire from his hands or something?
'...Fireball? Lightning?'
A mage, unlike his looks.
My body tensed slightly.
Facing mana, a special element, I needed to be cautious.
And then.
Bogers charged at me incredibly fast.
The sluggish world suddenly felt normal.
I could react.
"...Mana circuits etched on the skin. Not orthodox, but allows quick mana use— Urk!"
I grabbed Michael—like Speedwagon incarnate—and retreated,
as a massive crack split the floor.
Thud!!
Steam rose from Bogers' body.
The reddened tattoo twisted his face in pain.
I yelled without thinking.
"Hey, you're a mage, right?!"
Sneaky physical attack.
Almost fell for it.
"...Mocking me? Yeah, you are. Your attitude's been shit."
His tone hardened.
The heat rising.
Sharper.
Keener.
Michael whispered softly beside me.
"As you'd know, not all mana users can manifest it externally. That's why 'mage' is only for noble families trained in traditional circuits. ...You knew, right?"
"Just learned."
"Oh, so you unconsciously trolled him..."
Michael nodded at me.
Feels off somehow.
Anyway.
To Bogers, my reaction looked like blatant taunting.
"...I'll kill you!!"
His rage erupted like a volcano.