"Hey! Long time no see. I never did catch your name before."
The vending machine's large screen flickered, displaying a smiling face. Putato couldn't fathom why this guy was still smiling.
"You're on the verge of death and you're still laughing? Regretting the job now, aren't you?"
"Well, I don't want to ruin your mood, but I don't really have many regrets."
"Bro, you're about to be scrapped, and you're still acting tough about not having regrets!"
Putato looked at the thick cables connected to the side of the vending machine. They led directly to a laptop on the table, seemingly uploading the machine's data, the step right before destruction.
"I worked in a manufacturing plant for several years. I had to swap both my hands and my right leg for prosthetics. I remember those dark, sunless days in the factory. Once I hit the daily production quota, the target would just go up the next day."
"It wasn't that I found a new job later, I just couldn't afford the maintenance on my prosthetics and fell into debt with Union Co. What I told you before was just me trying to save face."
"They originally said my prosthetic compatibility was great and that I could join the Corporation's collection squad. I took out a loan for a full-body modification, but the test for the new tech failed. I was reassigned to customer service."
"But at least during this time, I felt like I was in control of my own life. I wasn't just some dispensable machine or a replaceable part. I was a customer service rep with the power to treat my friends to free drinks."
"Do you understand? My life only truly started when I handed those drinks to those three friends recently. Before that, I never received any recognition. Everything was just failure and inadequacy."
CLICK!
Without hesitation, Putato yanked the cables. He carefully maneuvered Brandon onto a nearby dolly.
"Don't bother. Maybe I should just die. No one's going to hire someone like me anyway."
"Your friends commissioned me to save you. My name is Vanda."
"Thank you, Vanda. And thanks for listening to my joke before. Do you want to hear another one now?"
Why did his disguises as a Fixer and a Syndicate member feel so flimsy? Even a vending machine could see through him?
The reason Putato wanted to keep these two identities separate was twofold: first, to prevent enemies from coming for him, and second, to keep his true motive, seeking employment and promotion, from being scrutinized. If the latter were exposed, it would be a devastating blow to his career path.
The idea of getting stronger through work was so bizarre that almost no one else would think of it, but this was The City, one more anomaly wouldn't hurt.
"I'm wrapped in bandages now, and I've changed my clothes and hair. How did you recognize me? Retinal scan?"
"Because you are the only person who, within two sentences of meeting me, would care about the safety of a personality chip slotted into a mere automated vending machine."
"Even though this is only our second time meeting, I am happy to have such a unique friend. Are we friends?"
"If you say so."
Putato struggled to move the dolly out of the cramped repair room. Beside him, the mechanic looked like he wanted to say something but held back.
Suddenly, the roar of a car engine came from outside, causing the mechanic's expression to shift. Putato glanced at him and warily set down the dolly, he suspected the man had called for backup.
"Hey! I'm here for the goods. Still waiting on this chip to boot up my boxing machine!"
"Heard this guy was a corporate collector, so he must know how to fight. Better not be worse than those guys from the Fighting Gang."
Two burly men wearing armbands stepped down from a truck reinforced with steel plates. They shouted toward the cowering mechanic.
Looking at the two blocking the exit, Putato finally understood why the mechanic had lied, he was reselling a personality chip that was supposed to be scrapped!
"Are you the local Neighborhood Watch? How come I haven't seen you around before?"
Putato looked curiously at their armbands. They didn't have organizational logos, instead, they had rows of street address ranges. This was likely how the Neighborhood Watch partitioned their territory.
After all, they were quite different from ordinary Syndicates, they banded together primarily to help each other resist external threats.
The two men looked at Putato skeptically, and the mechanic quickly chimed in with an explanation, doing his best to prevent a confrontation that would inevitably cause him trouble later.
"A Grade 5 Fixer?!"
To Putato's surprise, no fighting was necessary. The two men even asked politely where he lived. After confirming his address, they invited him to join the Neighborhood Watch.
"Uh, you know the Neighborhood Watch is a loose, voluntary organization. I don't know about other places, but here we just have a meeting at the end of every month. If anyone moves in, the neighbors usually give us a heads-up."
"Usually, a representative is assigned per building or street. I heard that building you live in was commandeered by the Stray Dogs?"
Putato realized then that his previous stint with the Syndicate had scared everyone away.
"Fine, let me join then. I plan to live here for a long time, anyway."
"No problem. Let's exchange contact info. Having a powerful Fixer around is a good thing for everyone."
While waiting for them to add his contact, Putato had already pushed the melancholy Brandon outside. He looked at the vending machine displaying drink advertisements and then at their truck.
"Bro, could you use that truck of yours to deliver something for me?"
"No problem, nobody in the Neighborhood Watch will mind. By the way, are you coming to the bonfire party this month?"
[Congratulations on your appointment to the Neighborhood Watch]
[Acquired Work Talent: Night Watchman]
[Description: Night is the end of one day, but also the beginning of another]
[Effect: Your night vision has been significantly enhanced]
...
SCREECH!!!
His superior vision and enhanced physical attributes allowed Putato to drive that truck with a wild, racing flair. Even the two veteran drivers scrambled out the moment it stopped, rushing toward the trash cans to vomit their guts out.
Putato hopped down in high spirits, but seeing the smoking skid marks left from his dynamic parking, he immediately snapped out of his excitement. He hoped Olga wouldn't notice, after all, he was right in front of the Molar Office.
"We... hurk... already designated you as the representative... blegh... we'll reach out... hurk... when we need you."
They helped Putato unload the vending machine and sped off without a second's delay.
[Congratulations on your promotion within the Neighborhood Watch]
[Acquired Work Item: Eye Wrap]
[Description: Blind eyes, but a sighted soul]
[Effect: While equipped with this Black Eye Wrap, you can observe your surroundings even with your eyes closed. Additionally, your dynamic vision is significantly enhanced]
This thing's purpose was a bit vague, but Putato carefully put on the Black Eye Wrap anyway. Closing his eyes, he immediately had a surreal experience, using the reflection from his communicator, he could see that most of his face was now covered by bandages and the Eye Wrap.
"Brandon! You really came back!"
Mucam came to greet them, overjoyed. After an excited exchange, she grew worried.
"Brandon, can you still play with us after this?"
"I'm afraid not. My permissions were all revoked by Union Co. I can't even sell the drinks inside this vending machine anymore."
Hearing this, Mucam looked flustered.
"Don't worry, we're working to make money. We'll find a way to get you a prosthetic body eventually!"
"Alright, alright, you little brat, go on home. I'm taking Brandon in for a job interview."
Mucam was skeptical, but she nodded in trust toward Putato, who had completed the commission so efficiently. She gave Putato a thumbs-up and hurried away, likely to inform her other little friends.
"An interview?"
"That's right. Can you still contact your old drink suppliers? I'm thinking of selling Urban Girl merch."
"Uh, are you saying that if I get the suppliers to change the designs to this Urban Girl character, they'll sell well?"
"No one understands The City better than me!"
...
Putato carefully hauled Brandon into the room. Immediately, he heard the noisy whirring of the bedroom computer fan. Checking in, he saw Shamisen was still reading comments exactly as he had instructed.
If the chat moved too fast, she simply skipped through it. That such a half-assed stream could become so popular was entirely due to Putato answering questions in his spare time and the blessing of his Unfettered talent.
"I really didn't expect that even after being turned into a personality chip, you'd still be a shut-in. Are you dead weight? Can't you interact with the viewers a bit?!"
To Putato's surprise, Shamisen didn't snap back. Instead, a cheerful voice came through the speakers he had bought.
"You're right. It seems making money this way is much easier than killing people. I can even save a fortune on equipment maintenance fees!"
"But I haven't interacted with people in a long time. Usually, I just follow orders to eliminate enemies. I truly don't know how to interact with so many people. Also, some guys are trying to track my location offline."
"To strengthen the network firewall, I want to request a few more high-end pieces of equipment."
Damn!
Doxing in The City is no joke. He had to quickly arm Shamisen's streaming setup with protection. If her location got leaked, it would be a disaster.
"Don't sweat it. I've already fronted the cash to buy you a base model Ghost Walker. From now on, you'll be in charge of the security side. As for the live interaction part, I've recruited a professional."
Putato hurried to the computer to post a stream hiatus message, instantly triggering a wave of complaints. He then nimbly shed his jacket, revealing his multi-functional belt, and began the repairs and modifications.
...
"Are you sure? I've never done anything in the streaming industry before. And didn't you want me to sell drinks?"
"Competent people always have a lot on their plates. I'll give you a 30% cut of the profits from the drink sales."
"I... I'm not a competent person. It wouldn't be right to give me a cut of the profits. I'd be fine with just a 500,000 Ahn salary!"
No, Bro. Your monthly salary wouldn't even cover a single high-tier donation tip!
Putato looked at the bouncy pixel emoji on the computer screen, feeling a mix of speechlessness and irritation. Brandon was still struggling to list reasons why he didn't need such a high salary.
BANG!
"Shut it! I'm the goddamn boss! I'm the one who handles profit distribution!"
Shamisen, currently operating her Ghost Walker body, looked toward Putato in surprise. She felt her boss might be one of The City's many lunatics and couldn't help but worry about her own rocky career path.
"100,000 Ahn for City queries, 10,000 Ahn for emotional counseling. Brandon, you'll stick to your old profession. Use the Urban Girl avatar and voice for the emotional counseling side. As for the City queries, just forward those to me. You ready?"
"Wait, Shamisen, what the hell are you doing?!"
Just as he was about to have the insecure Brandon take the stage, Putato saw the Urban Girl avatar and his face changed. He clenched his fists in rage.
The avatar was clearly a moe-fied, anime version of himself!
"What? You're the one who said you wanted to stream, so of course I used AI to generate an image based on your likeness. I just follow orders, if my salary gets cut, I'm literally dead."
Shamisen, with her triangular head, stood before Putato with arms crossed, giving an innocent shrug.
"When Brandon's Urban Girl drink order arrives, remember to pick it up. How are your hands doing?!"
Shamisen curiously squeezed Putato's arm, leaving him puzzled. She then circled him with great interest before suddenly delivering a smack to his backside.
SLAP!
"Looking closely, you really are quite different from the Chief Researcher. That guy spent all day holed up in the lab and barely showed his face except for meetings. You're much more interesting by comparison."
CLICK!
Mo, humming a tune with her two lackeys in tow, carried a large paper bag. She looked up and saw Shamisen probing Putato, freezing her dead in her tracks.
Consta walked ahead cluelessly, his triangular screen displaying a giant question mark as he stared at Shamisen.
"Senior? Why did you buy another Prosthetic? Is it a spare for us?"
Putato hurriedly opened his mouth to explain, but Shamisen instantly dropped into a stance. Despite being a full-body mechanical Prosthetic, she still radiated a lethal killing intent.
"Intruders. Should I wipe them out?"
"Putato!!!"
"Don't move! They're friendly!"
Hearing this, Shamisen immediately retracted her stance and stood respectfully by Putato's side, yet she continued to warily scan the newcomers and the activity outside the door.
A paper bag slammed into Putato's face. A fuming Mo grabbed his collar with both hands and pinned him against the wall, her gritted electronic voice echoing through the room.
"I'm already here, so why do you need another Prosthetic! I'm the one who met you first, right?!"
"And now you want this bitch to kill us all? Putato, you bastard!"
"What exactly is wrong with me?!!!"
"And you, who the hell are you!"
Shamisen, standing with her hands down, remained perfectly professional. Even while being screamed at by someone pointing at her triangular head, she simply looked at Putato calmly, awaiting orders.
"Mo, let me explain. I hired her as a bodyguard."
"Why waste money?! You could've just come to me! This girl's Prosthetic isn't even as good as mine. What kind of shitty bodyguard could she be!"
"Don't lie to me! This girl definitely has that kind of module! You're acting all serious while secretly doing this behind my back!"
Seeing Mo's accusations get more and more outrageous, and fearing she might storm into the room and smash the streaming equipment to vent her rage, Putato forced a smile and held her down.
"I was just about to call you. I need the three of you to help with deliveries. I'm starting a big business and I need the manpower."
"Putato, Putato, Putato!"
Putato tried to keep talking, but he felt Mo ramming into his chest like a wild bull. It was a deer-crashing-into-the-heart kind of impact that nearly knocked the wind out of him.
"Stop!"
After Mo and Putato's wild bickering lasted until noon, she finally settled down, glaring unpleasantly at Shamisen, who stood there as if none of this concerned her.
CLICK!
Mo looked at the strange drinks Putato placed on the glass table, featuring the somewhat familiar Urban Girl design. She didn't quite get what he meant by "big business."
"You're making me a gopher?! What about her?!"
"Not a gopher, a Secure Logistics Agent for precious materials. You get a fifty percent cut per delivery. I'm practically giving money away here."
"She's just someone I hired for online marketing and to watch the equipment. I've got a customer delivery that needs to go out right now, it's an emergency, and I can only count on you!"
Putato smoothed things over with Mo, packing three crates of assorted Urban Girl drinks into a bag before slapping the order sheet onto the table.
"Hmph. Fine, I guess I can help you out since you're in a bind."
Mo picked up the order sheet skeptically, immediately questioning it.
"Why did this Don Quixote person spend so much money on this flavored trash water?! Are you running a scam or laundering money?"
"Cough... show some respect for the customer. They paid real money."
"I've got Fixer commissions to run. I need you to get this done. When I get back, I'll take you to the amusement park."
"You said it! No backing out!"
Putato grabbed his jacket, hurrying to get back to the Molar Office. Staying here meant being interrogated by Mo, he really found it hard to deal with people he was close to. After all, he couldn't just punch them into oblivion like he did with Syndicate thugs.
"Sigh, can't you stay a bit longer? Is the Office really that busy!"
Watching Putato leave in a rush, Mo, having failed to make him stay, simply huffed at Shamisen. She coldly grabbed the backpack and left with her two lackeys.
Shamisen, who had watched the entire scene from the sidelines, stood at the door. She didn't react to Mo's provocation, merely lowering her head and letting out a short laugh.
"Putato... tsk."