Chapter 46
Chapter 46
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 46
Chapter Title: Spilled Water
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Thankfully, no incidents occurred on our way to the grocery store.
In terms of contributions to that outcome, Michael's help would have to rank first—he was still busily on the phone even now.
"Yeah, if you've taken out the surveillance cameras there, next head to the fountain near the north avenue... Yeah, that's right. It's an area with a lot of our people. Good, proceed as planned."
I just had to sit in the truck's driver's seat and turn the wheel in the direction Michael pointed.
The truck we'd received as a "free donation" from the Bogers Gang was quite spacious, so transporting the stolen goods wasn't much trouble at all.
"Right, everything for the Hotdog Man."
I stared blankly at Michael as he ended the call with that bizarre farewell.
Why was the embarrassment always my burden?
"...Do you have to say that 'for the Hotdog Man' bit every time?"
"Of course. Our organization—oh, whoops."
Whoops, my ass.
Michael continued with an awkward smile.
"So, to uphold the rules of the club, it's for the best. Emphasizing the grace we've received from the Hotdog Man can't hurt."
"...I give up."
The first time Michael brought up creating some group.
I'd told him to disband it immediately, but in the end, securing funding from the mafia family was all thanks to his "organizational activities."
We couldn't keep playing pretend forever.
As I drove the truck along the cracked asphalt road, I asked Michael,
"So, what exactly is this club for?"
"I've been waiting for you to ask."
Michael touched the corners of his (desert-dry) eyes with a faintly moved expression.
His face was still so stoic that it almost looked like he was mocking me at a glance.
'It's just that his facial muscles are dead.'
Michael fiddled with the smart chip HUD linked to his mechanical eyes and opened his mouth.
"We are of the Hotdog Man, by the Hotdog Man, for the Hotdog Man—. Ah, turn into that road over there, not this one."
"Okay."
I followed the biometric navigator's guidance and turned the truck's wheel.
The grocery store was right around the corner now.
Michael looked back at me with a calm expression.
"As the Hotdog Man knows, managing a group is harder than it seems. Especially for us, since we've gathered all sorts of weirdos from every corner of the city."
"Homeless folks are like that."
Who doesn't have it rough?
Michael nodded in agreement at my response.
"Exactly. Without the Hotdog Man, the group wouldn't even exist."
"...Why are you dragging out the preamble like this? What are you trying to say?"
I was already getting anxious.
At that moment, I caught a glimpse of madness in Michael's eyes.
"The very purpose of our group's existence. It's the Hotdog Man."
"No, what is the group for?"
"Naturally, it's for acting on behalf of the Hotdog Man."
"...?"
Michael answered without hesitation, as if it were the most obvious thing.
"As I mentioned last time, we agonized over names like Ketchup and Mustard, Food Fighters, Followers of the Hotdog, and more. But in the end, it was unanimously decided to be the Hotdog Man's fan club—"
"Shut it down. Now."
If I hadn't been gripping the wheel, I would've choked Michael and demanded, "Why so unserious?"
But even at my sharp tone, Michael remained composed.
"Calm down, Hotdog Man. I already knew you'd say that. You have to hear people out to the end."
"......"
"The organization's name was almost unanimously set as the Hotdog Man Fan Club."
Michael shrugged nonchalantly.
"But we're ultimately just bait to hide your 'real organization,' Hotdog Man. We avoided anything too unique or blatant."
A real organization? As if...
My grip tightened on the wheel.
Oblivious to that, Michael calmly continued.
"In conclusion, since most of the club members are homeless, we simply went with Homeless Clan. Beggar Clan works too."
Homeless or beggar.
Listening to Michael, I recalled a certain group from a wuxia novel.
This is totally the Beggars' Sect...
"......"
Still better than the Hotdog Man Fan Club, though.
Honestly, anything but that name was fine.
As I climbed down from the truck's driver's seat, I spotted Walter standing in front of the grocery store.
Walter, who was staying near the store out of gratitude for saving his daughter, seemed to have fully settled into the empty lot behind the building lately.
He even repaired nearby homeless folks' belongings or cybernetic implants for free.
When the homeless thanked him,
-I'm just repaying the favor I owe the Hotdog Man. If you want to thank someone, thank him.
That's what Walter had replied, apparently.
Last I heard, he was planning to move his shop here entirely, but I wondered if he'd properly discussed it with Anna.
I scratched my head and walked over to Walter.
His broken leg had already healed completely.
Both eyes looked fine too.
Spotting me, Walter's mechanical eye spun around in a creepy whirl.
"Lad, where've you been this time to end up looking like a drowned rat...?"
"A lot happened. Really."
I'm exhausted for real.
I stretched my ankles a few times and turned the question back on him.
"What are you doing out front, Grandpa Walter?"
It wasn't like he was minding the store for me.
At my question, Walter glanced back sharply at the store interior.
"I was checking because there seemed to be some error with the turret inside."
"...Nova?"
"Yeah. A few dozen minutes ago... I was tinkering with scrap in the lot when it suddenly activated out of nowhere. I asked the kid handling the turret's AI, but she had no clear answer."
True to form for a man with an android daughter.
Walter referred to other androids as "kids."
'A few dozen minutes ago...'
I pulled out my terminal from my pocket to check Nova's status.
Nova was expressing her feelings with an emoticon sweating bullets.
"What is it?"
"Ah."
Nova had watched the whole thing from my terminal while I was getting the beating of my life from the Megacorp employee.
But the distance between Black Square and the grocery store was too far, and the 20mm turret didn't have legs, so she couldn't have helped anyway.
Having pieced it together, I told Walter—who was awkwardly inspecting the turret—
"No problem, apparently."
"Hmm... If that's the case."
Walter's gaze shifted to the terminal in my hand.
The moment he saw that emoticon face, he chuckled, pocketed his tools in his work clothes, and said,
"Imprinting's solid. Anyway, if there's no issue, I'll head back."
"To the lot?"
"...Homeless folks, I guess. Not a single one without something busted."
As Walter left,
Michael finally climbed out of the passenger seat.
Why didn't you get out earlier...?
Reading my expression, Michael glanced at the truck bed.
"...No need to draw attention. Don't we have urgent matters to handle?"
"......"
I sighed at Michael's words.
The weight of reality is heavy.
I slowly climbed into the truck bed.
"What the hell do we do with all this...?"
From small handguns to grenade launchers and high-explosive grenades.
The sheer volume filling the truck was dizzying.
After carefully moving every last weapon to the grocery store and warehouse.
Perhaps because it had been a while since any real manual labor, Michael muttered while wiping sweat from his brow.
"...Didn't you say you were just going to get an android body?"
"Y-yeah."
I roughly explained how things had unfolded.
Michael straightened his tie and replied,
"What a coincidence."
"That's what I'm saying."
"You knew there were 'Megacorp' goods in that truck, though."
"......"
True, but.
Michael surveyed the uncountable weapon crates.
"...Honestly, at first I thought you were prepping for war. Given the goods."
He pulled out a single handgun from an upscale case.
Unlike the street pistols, the craftsmanship screamed high-end.
"Smart bullets. Modular electronics for ammo management, biometric locks. If it's Megacorp-made, you'd normally need to renew paid licenses periodically to use it."
Michael handed me the grip.
As I grasped it, a translucent hologram popped up from the sight.
Wow.
As my eyes widened, Michael laughed in a hollow tone.
"Everything here looks illegally cracked. I don't know the full story, but this one pistol alone would fetch tens of thousands on the black market."
"......"
"With this much volume... That Megacorp employee in the truck was probably going for one last big score."
Right when I hit the truck.
Michael added in a trembling voice,
"...This is seriously dangerous."
I swallowed hard at his grave reaction.
"The corp's probably already sent pursuit teams. We erased traces as best we could, but I'm not confident we won't get caught."
"What if we say we caught a thief by chance and were just returning the goods?"
"Hahaha."
Michael chuckled lowly, like it'd been a funny joke.
"We won't even get a chance to talk. Corp TF teams operate on 'no negotiations with terrorists.'"
Growing anxious as he spoke, he kept glancing between me and the store entrance.
"The truck plate was BT-1088, right?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Then it might all be Beltech stuff."
"Beltech?"
I tilted my head, and Michael explained awkwardly.
"Yes, Beltech International Solutions. One of the world's top military-industrial complexes. Famous for weapons, vehicles, security services."
Fuck, we're screwed. That's all I could think.
I asked Michael seriously,
"What can we do in this situation?"
"Well..."
His answer to that was.
"Honestly? Nothing. We moved everything as fast and carefully as possible, avoiding cameras, but..."
Pray to the heavens, basically.
I clicked my tongue and wrapped it up.
"...Let's think of other options slowly. What's done is done."
Unless Megacorp spec-ops smashed through the entrance right now.
I glanced at the store door.
Thankfully, still quiet.
We'd just repaired it...
Anyway.
I stood and headed to the "capsule" we'd stashed in one corner of the warehouse.
"...That."
"The android body I somehow snagged."
"Corp property too... No, irrelevant in this mess, I suppose."
Nova—who'd overheard us—the terminal emoticon flickered briefly.
What emotion is that supposed to be?
Time to find out.
Thick, transparent steam billowed like clouds from inside the heavy capsule.
Chiiiik...
And at the same time.
Pure white pupils slowly came into view.