Paranormal Link-27
Bzzz. Bzzzz.
"Not gonna answer that?"
"...Huh?"
I was blankly slicing ham for the afternoon rush when Gustavo's words made me glance over.
"Ah..."
His finger pointed at my pocket, and only then did I fish out my terminal and hang up the call.
"You could've picked up."
"Spam call."
I clicked my tongue at the same damn number that had been bugging me for days, shoving the terminal back into my pocket.
"Unknown number—ain't it a fixer?"
"If they keep calling after I turned 'em down, they're just peddlers."
I didn't know what was so funny about that, but I heard a snort from beside me. I'd thought the guy never smiled, always standing there like a grumpy statue, but apparently not.
"Finish that and head out."
"...? Still got time left."
"Slicing ham's enough. From now on, just do the ham and clock out. I'll pack lunch for you and Blanca."
As I listened to Gustavo, I eyed the meat slicer gathering dust in the corner—my senior on the job. Going from sandwich maker to ham slicer... was that a demotion? No answer came from the powered-down machine.
Whish. I spun the kitchen knife in my hand once, channeling a bit of inner energy. Careful not to slice the cutting board, I started thinly shaving the ham.
"All good—I'm out!"
"......"
I felt Gustavo's gaze on my back, but I chalked it up to admiration for my expert work.
Heading out of the shop toward the boarding house stairs, I spotted Lopez Wife and Blanca coming down from above.
"Huh? Already done?"
"My double boss granted early dismissal for the second gig."
"......"
Blanca glanced nervously at Lopez Wife beside her. She must've been scared I'd embarrass her or seem nuts, getting their outing canceled.
"Ah, Blanca."
At Lopez Wife's sudden call, Blanca tensed up and looked her way.
"What, Mom?"
"Gotta hit the market, but I left the basket upstairs. Mind grabbing it?"
"What?"
"Getting old—my legs ache climbing stairs~."
Blanca and I both zeroed in on Lopez Wife's legs at the same time. No doubt about it—with those sturdy limbs, if stairs hurt that bad, most folks would have to crawl up.
"What're you staring at? Hurry up and fetch it!"
I avoided detection like a true (former) master, but Blanca got caught. Pressured by Lopez Wife's intimidating vibe, she bolted upstairs. Watching her go, I noticed Lopez Wife sidling up behind me, reaching out.
I subtly shifted with a light foot technique to keep distance, then turned. She was looking right at me.
"......"
"Take good care of Blanca."
Her gentle, kindly face contrasted with her imposing build, giving off a strange pressure as she spoke. What was this—a son-in-law announcement? Her serious tone made me think that for a second.
"Husband vouched for you, so skills are solid. No slouches in his line of work. Just parents double-checking as a formality."
Ah, just gig talk. Made sense. As I nodded along, she added,
"Whatever she does, I support her. Hope it turns out well."
"......"
That soft smile she gave me looked just like Blanca's usual wistful one.
I stared blankly for a moment before carefully replying,
"...I'll do right by her. Even a layman like me sees the talent. Won't let a hair on your... daughter's head get hurt."
"No need to be so formal~! Just call her Blanca! She calls you 'big bro' and follows you everywhere!"
Each pat on my shoulder from Lopez Wife sent vibrations rattling my bones. She'd definitely mastered some heavy-hand technique. If I learned Iron Arm or something here, I could separate flesh from bone in seconds.
Rocked side to side by the hefty skinship, pondering my weed-in-the-wind life, Blanca came back down the stairs.
"Here! And quit picking on Isan, Mom! It hurts when you thump like that!"
"Oh, come on. You're such a wimp! Your dad doesn't complain!"
...I made a mental note of Blanca's mutter about her dad needing painkiller patches—might slap one on him later. First, though, my cyberware joints were humming; time for a checkup.
"Back by 6! See you at dinner~! Melissa too!"
With that, Lopez Wife left me bruised, and the three of us remained.
"What time was it?"
"6."
"Curfew got extended?! Mom didn't slip up?"
"Congrats."
By the way—you might've noticed, but the woman next door was nearby from the start. The one Blanca just chatted with. Looked like she was joining our stroll today.
"Hey."
I gave a casual wave to the late greeter, but she seemed uninterested in me, scurrying to Blanca instead.
Listening to the tech geek talk up front, I walked with the mindset of a guard escorting cargo—a lead escort bearing full responsibility. Success rate: 99.9%. That's me.
One massive failure, sure... but before that, it was 100%. Call it margin of error.
As I strode on, hand resting on my knife hilt, a sedan parked by the roadside caught my eye. Blacked-out windows so dark you couldn't see inside—suspicious as hell, legal or not in this city.
"...Hold up."
I expanded my senses, scanning around, and halted the two ahead.
"Why?"
The faintly smiling woman and head-tilting Blanca turned to me.
"Wait here a sec."
Within range: them, a beggar watching from afar, and two in the car. One driver, one back seat.
Hand on the grip, ready to draw, I approached. Movement inside—the sedan's window slid down smoothly. Quarter-way, it stopped, revealing a man's face behind oversized shades.
"The door's opening—you're taking it off...?"
For some reason, the moment I saw him, those words spilled out.
At the same time, the guy flinched, staring at me, then,
"Ahem!"
cleared his throat awkwardly and looked forward.
He looked oddly familiar.
"You Isan, the merc?"
Puffing up pretentiously, he spoke in a haughty drawl.
"Hard to reach you. No response, so I came in person."
He gestured grandly to the opposite door.
"Busy. Spit it out."
Realizing he was the source of the nagging vibrations, I snapped curtly. If I smoked, I'd have lit up and dangled it from my lip—too bad I'm not. Instead, I cocked my head and lips sideways.
"R-right. Got a sweet deal for you."
"No gigs. Beat it."
I shooed him off and turned.
"Prime terms! You're guild-registered—heard the rumors? Corp dumping goods!"
Pathetic whispering. I glanced at Blanca—she was distracted by her gang-salvaged arm, but this chatter might spark unwanted curiosity. Good thing she wasn't listening, blank-faced. The woman beside her smiled vacantly as usual.
I scowled at him to shut up. He flinched—my nonverbal cue landed. Threw in a bit of pressure too.
"Told you, no gigs. Fixers forcing jobs now? Law change I missed?"
"...No such law. Hell, you never even picked up—when'd you reject?!"
"Bull. Where'd you hear that crap? I definitely..."
Definitely... uh...
Thinking back step by step, I'd never actually talked to this guy.
Then why's his voice so familiar?
"The door..."
"Huh?"
"The door's opening, ah..."
My master-level mind raced back, flashing on one scene.
"Fuck."
"...What?"
"Told you no back then."
"We never—"
"Nah, you turned it down. No has-beens."
"......"
I reached out, yanking off his shades. The front-seat guy glared murderously via rearview, but I ignored him, peering at the revealed face. Purple eyeshadow awkwardly turned my way.
One of the fixers I'd hit up before becoming a brutal sandwich farm harvester.
No need to spell it out—you know who.
"Remember now?"
"......"
"Not interested, asshole. Busy—move the car!"
I bellowed in a tone thick as my body weight in muscle.
His shades slipped down his twitching face.
"H-hear me out? Just find the item..."
"On a job. Wanna get tangled in obstruction? Cops over there—wanna try it?"
Real cop or not, I didn't care—growled using her as leverage. He yelped and recoiled from the window.
"And you up front, dickhead—nice eyes for once. I ain't eating your boss. All talk, and you're glaring like an axe murderer. Fuck off!"
I scowled at the side guy radiating killing intent. Got an exasperated look back via mirror. Better than psycho eyes.
"Ch-change your mind, call!"
The closing window carried that, and the car pulled away.
"Who was that...?"
Blanca sidled up cautiously as I watched the taillights fade.
"Eh? Peddler."
"You seemed pissed. You good?"
"Eh? Not pissed."
"...?"
"Gotta talk like that to shake peddlers."
"...Oh?"
She seemed to buy it and move on, but I replied anyway.
"Yeah. Let's roll."
Wasted time for nothing.