Cyberpunk Orc (4)
Cyberpunk Orc (4)
The stale, tepid air of Redwood seeped through my mask and into my lungs.
Was this really my hometown, after all?
The Orc taxi driver, Tom, couldn't hide his excitement, his easygoing tone giving him away.
"The one silver lining is that there aren't any elves among the guests, y'see. Truth is, the Orcs around here all know to be scared of elves, so even when elf tourists show up, they mostly leave 'em alone. But every now and then, there are some brothers who've snorted way too many mental care drugs, y'know."
"Yo, gramps. Still alive and kickin', are ya? Been keepin' well, I hope? These folks here are with me. You might not know by lookin', but they're tourists. Gotta take on these sorts of decent-payin' gigs so I can feed the neighborhood kids an extra meal or two, right?"
"Ah, guests. If y'all could just hold up a moment for me. That's right. First, line up against the wall like I'm doin', yep, just like that. Don't make eye contact and look away, if ya please."
- Tang, tangtang!
"It's a gang turf war. Keep your heads down and it'll blow over soon enough. Huh? You askin' why not just clean 'em up? Haha, you're not exactly mercenaries, now, are ya. Your missus sure has a fine sense of humor."
While listening to Tom's explanation, I formed a brief impression.
"What a total shitshow."
"That it is."
Tom agreed with my assessment.
"Ah, and do keep your heads down a little more. Don't wanna catch the gang's eye with those masks on and give 'em a reason to start somethin'. Good, just like that, keep 'em down."
Tom grinned, flashing his tusks.
24. Orc of Cyberpunk (4)
...Hm.
Now that I'd walked this far,
I was starting to get a rough sense of how this neighborhood actually worked.
First off, no matter how much of a first meeting it was between Orcs,
as long as they were both 'Orcs,' they could carry on a friendly conversation under the title of Brother (Bro).
Seeing this, I thought that the 'brothers' Smith had mentioned might not have actually meant real 'biological brothers.'
Even just walking down the street, the Orcs' hostile gazes zeroed in on us.
There were a few Orcs who approached us with hostile intent, but fortunately, since Tom — a fellow 'Orc' — was with us, things never escalated seriously.
If Tom hadn't been there...
Wouldn't the Orc trainers have challenged us to a battle the moment we locked eyes, like a Pokémon encounter?
At any rate, hiring Tom had been, by all accounts, a good choice.
And another thing.
There were far fewer cars on the roads than I'd expected. So much so that the wide roads were being used practically like sidewalks.
Of course, that didn't mean there were no vehicles at all. Every now and then, trucks came barreling down the road in clouds of dust, their beds full of firearms and the Orcs wielding them.
The scenery looked worn and aged, as though untouched by the passage of time, yet here and there, deep traces of cyberpunk were plainly visible.
It was simply an impossible-to-define kind of neighborhood.
"Here, take some of this."
Some kindhearted old lady (an Orc) had gifted Tom a staple cyberpunk snack — a protein bar of unknown composition — and he passed it straight on to us.
I made the excuse that I was full and stuffed the protein bar I'd received into my pocket.
Because the odds that this protein bar's ingredients consisted of 'edible insects' were nine out of ten or higher.
Honestly, in the cyberpunk world, edible insects were one of the most common food ingredients.
But if those edible insects turned out to be cockroaches over 30 centimeters long, I was absolutely going to pass.
"It's a real delicacy once you get used to the taste, I tell ya."
Tom said, gulping down the protein bar.
"Anyway, about that Orc called Smith you mentioned earlier — any other distinctive features you recall?"
"Ah."
Right, we had been cut off mid-conversation.
I'd gotten as far as:
Name's Smith.
Height, 2 meters.
Bald, a skinhead Orc.
Employed at a brokerage called No Answer.
The sunglasses... weren't that big a distinguishing feature.
I pondered it for a moment longer.
Ah, right.
"Come to think of it, he was an Orc with no tusks. That's a pretty solid identifying feature, wouldn't you say?"
There. Now bring Smith right to me.
But.
Tom's reaction was different from what I'd expected.
"Can ya be sure they're really gone?"
"?"
What kind of answer was that?
Seeing my puzzled expression, Tom shifted his demeanor as if I might simply not know, and continued his explanation.
"Orcs livin' out in the wider world have probably, most all of 'em, gotten detachable tusk surgery, I reckon."
"...Excuse me?"
What the hell kind of implant surgery was that supposed to be?
It felt like learning the shocking truth that someone you'd known for ages actually wore a wig, or that their teeth were really dentures.
Tom brought his fingers to the corner of his mouth.
"Mine are the same, y'see."
With a soft ttok, a large tusk landed on Tom's palm.
"It's pretty rare to go as far as removin' the tusks entirely or grindin' 'em down. Usually, it's the Orc brothers plannin' to leave this neighborhood for good who'd go that far."
Then he reattached the tusk to the corner of his mouth.
"Most of the city Orcs named Smith that I know of are the same. 'Course, it's possible he did pull out or grind down his real tusks, but. Can ya be certain?"
I let out a short hum of consideration.
"Hmm."
He was right.
I'd understood that he'd had them ground down, but they could actually be detachable.
He might pop the tusks out for work.
And then pop them back in whenever he returned to his hometown of Redwood.
So it was hard to call it a definitive 'feature' of Smith.
Seeing my expression, Tom nodded his head.
"But no need to worry."
Tom thumped his own chest with his fist.
"The guests here are lucky precisely because I'm the one takin' on the guide role for this neighborhood."
Tom smiled an affable, genial smile.
We followed Tom's lead and walked along behind him. Then, a building came into view.
It didn't look particularly different from the other buildings around it — built from old brick, with patches stained a reddish hue here and there.
There wasn't even a sign hanging, so at a passing glance, its exterior could easily be mistaken for an ordinary family home.
"You'll be headin' up this way."
Tom pushed the folding iron gate to the side.
Inside, just like the other buildings, two Orcs acting as doorkeepers were squatting down, chatting away.
"Huh? Who's this?"
"...Wow, fucking gorgeous."
Both of their gazes snapped toward Catherine and Eve.
Even among Orcs of a different species, the aesthetic sense didn't diverge all that much. In a cyberpunk world like this one, well-balanced features were the standard of beauty.
It had been the same all the way here.
Frankly, it would have been weirder if no one reacted at all to seeing the two of them.
I'd just grown so accustomed to their looks that I barely noticed anymore. Honestly, even just walking around, you could plainly feel people's eyes gathering on them.
Those two Orcs must have thought the same.
They approached us with swaggering strides.
"What brings you here, sightseeing?"
"We could show you a real good time, you know."
With mirthless laughter, they continued, completely ignoring Tom and me standing right in front of them.
"...Yo, brothers. These are guests. What's all this about now."
Tom stepped forward to speak, trying to mediate the increasingly serious atmosphere.
But even so, the two Orcs didn't stop leering at Catherine and Eve.
Hm.
I'd been more than patient enough at this point.
I drew on my mana and manipulated the wind, forcing both Orcs back a step.
"Huh?"
Sensing something strange, the Orcs simultaneously had their knees forced to the ground.
"Ugh, hold on. Dizzy—."
The sound of retching followed right after.
"Hurrrgh...."
This much was an extremely peaceful response.
I didn't care much about people yapping behind my back, but yapping right in front of me while ignoring me was a different matter.
After spending so many years doing mercenary work, it had become a habit.
Because if you let yourself get walked over once, there's no end to it.
I flicked my index finger one more time.
I visualized the image and condensed the mana.
This wasn't a method I could use anytime.
It only worked at very close range, and only on targets without cyberware implants capable of countering my magic.
In short, it was perfect for use on Orcs.
Since I only needed to mess with their semicircular canals.
Tom, having realized that I was the cause, looked at me with trembling eyes.
"...What kind of cyberware is that, or hackin'?"
"It's not life-threatening, so don't worry too much."
I pointed toward the top of the stairs.
"You said we need to go up, so let's head up."
"...Right you are."
Tom answered in a small voice.
I had explained that we weren't here for sightseeing. But seeing firsthand, right in front of his eyes, that we weren't ordinary people seemed to have shaken him a bit.
Ugh, this kind of thing really isn't my style.
But if I'd just let those Orcs be, the situation could have easily turned into them getting beaten to a pulp by Catherine.
I came here to find Smith, and what the hell kind of ordeal was this.
I turned to gauge Catherine and Eve's reactions.
.......
But somehow.
I'd expected them to be in a bad mood because of the Orcs. Contrary to my expectation, they looked slightly pleased.
What the.
The two of them were whispering to each other.
"...Being the one being protected isn't so bad, maybe,"
"......I partially concur."
I couldn't quite catch what they were talking about. I scratched my head and thought to myself.
...Well, it's probably fine.
Tom, having read the atmosphere, smiled awkwardly. He cautiously opened his mouth to speak.
"Still, it's a relief that the guest here is strong enough to protect his missuses. I can worry a little less now."
"......."
Those two are way stronger than me, you know.
A sense of injustice welled up and I was about to expose that truth on the spot, but for some reason a bone-chilling shiver ran down my spine, so I barely managed to stop myself.
Sometimes, staying quiet was probably the right answer.
We climbed the stairs, following behind Tom.
* * *
At the top of the stairs, in an office, the Orc sitting at the work desk opened his eyes wide upon seeing us.
"Goddamn it, that's the Shooting Star!!"
- Jjaenggeurang!
Without a shred of hesitation, he smashed through the window and leaped outside the building.
"......."
What the hell kind of situation was this now?
For now,
I used my magic first.
I levitated the Orc who had jumped out and guided him back into the room.