"You—what are you running for?"
"Nonsense, I am a member of the Brotherhood of Iron. I absolutely cannot cause trouble for the Syndicate." Putato immediately adjusted his smile, continuing to speak in hopes of stabilizing the other party.
"Although I know Yun, if other Fixers greedy for bounties capture us, Yun won't be able to say a word!"
Consta's bionic eyes flickered, immediately filled with guilt.
So Putato wasn't lying to escape, but was genuinely acting as a loyal member of the Brotherhood. It was Consta who had been overly suspicious.
"Sor... Sorry."
Putato ran until he was sweating profusely, finally ditching his pursuers in a secluded alleyway.
But at this moment, he faced a dilemma.
If he could not sell the commissions, he could forget about becoming a regular member. That greedy Mo would probably harvest his kidney for cash without hesitation.
Just from their brief encounter at the Office, Putato could tell Yun was a difficult individual to deal with, as shrewd as a fox.
"Wait, selling commissions doesn't necessarily mean I can't negotiate with the representative!"
Behind him, Consta lifted his jacket to cool down, not quite understanding Putato's logic.
"Boss, I'm afraid you can't follow me for the next part."
"Our Brotherhood's reputation is too significant; it's easy for other Fixers to misunderstand our intentions. Plus, my contact is a pure humanist and detests Prosthetics."
"But... but Mo ordered me to protect you well."
Damn it, that's just a fancy word for monitoring me!
Putato saw Consta still hesitating and decisively extended his arm.
"Set the timed injection for 10 minutes. That way, I absolutely won't be able to run away."
"No, not like that. I trust you."
"Although those two are very suspicious, the fact that you thought of the Brotherhood first instead of yourself just now proves your loyalty."
"I... I'll wait for you right here."
Consta solemnly adopted the posture of a senior, displaying an unexpected magnanimity.
Seeing this, Putato's mind became agile. Originally, he had considered joining Yun's Office, but now perhaps he could try to become the leader of the Brotherhood.
If he could sway Consta and Arnold, then only Mo would be the outsider!
This way, he could maximize the value of his short work experience.
...
A damp, cramped alleyway.
Grade 9 Fixer Finn carefully entered with a short sword, even though everyone else was slacking off.
Putato, lurking far behind, knew that this seemingly ordinary Fixer's only noteworthy quality was his extreme loyalty to Yun.
Don't be fooled by the number of people in Yun's Office; the majority were lone wolves, and even Yun himself couldn't be bothered to manage them.
"Hey, who are you looking for?"
Finn, hearing a voice behind him, vigilantly turned around. He relaxed only after seeing a masked passerby.
He saw Putato in a suit and felt that perhaps the other person was a colleague, so he casually replied: "Two Syndicate members. Probably here to scout the terrain for an Office raid."
Putato looked at Finn, who was under 150cm tall, surprised that he would voluntarily reveal information.
Indeed, much like his game counterpart, he was polite yet somewhat timid. Such a person was much easier to communicate with than Yun.
As Putato pondered, Finn asked in confusion: "Do you need anything else? I have to get back to work."
Finn felt his whole body tremble under the gaze of this strange man and couldn't wait to leave.
Seeing this, Putato quickly asked: "Brother, do you want commissions?"
"You mean you want to assign commissions to me? My name is Finn."
At this moment, Finn believed diligence would lead to success, fantasizing that hard work would change his destiny.
Putato clearly sensed the dwarf's pleasant surprise; Finn didn't even stop to consider who would assign commissions to an unknown person like him.
"Finn, have you heard of Good Office?"
Next, Finn honestly listened as Putato recounted how he covered Goodman's escape from an encirclement, only to be ambushed by the Brotherhood of Iron.
"Sigh, Brother Finn, Goodman left those commissions with me before he died, but I'm just one person and can't finish them all."
"That's why I thought of sharing some with you. Look, they're all high-quality commissions. I'll take a small loss and sell them to you for three-tenths of the reward."
"Ah?"
Finn looked at the large stack of commissions in Putato's hand, encountering this kind of commission peddling for the first time.
"It might be irregular to take commissions from another Office. I need to confirm with Yun first."
"Nonsense! You're making a fuss over nothing. How could the representative be bothered with such trivialities? At least buy some samples to take back."
"Finn, I'm your sister's friend. I know you're trying hard to improve, so I intentionally saved this opportunity for you."
"Otherwise, why wouldn't I just go talk to Yun directly?"
Perhaps Finn was a novice at slicing people up, but when faced with a familiar face trying to sell something, he found it hard to refuse.
After realizing that all the commissions in Putato's hand were low-tier, he forced a smile and tried to retreat.
Seeing his potential mark about to flee, Putato had no choice but to use reverse psychology: "It seems I admired the wrong person. You're just a lazy turtle in the tortoise and hare race."
"Wait, what do you mean?!" Finn, who was about to turn and leave, stamped his foot.
"Actually, I once met a Lobotomy Corporation manager recruiting in The Backstreets. At that time, he was reading a book, a small, palm-sized paperback."
"I also signed up for the interview back then, and asked him why he remained so diligent even as a manager."
"Do you know what he said?"
Finn's eyes were full of curiosity and longing, forgetting even Yun's task.
"He became a manager precisely by accumulating effort day by day, learning 10 small bits of knowledge every day. That's a hundred in a week, a thousand in a month, and ten thousand in a year."
"When your sister mentioned you to me, I also thought you were someone who could succeed through diligence, but I didn't expect you wouldn't even seize a commission within reach."
"What if the money is little? These are all blessings. When everyone knows your great reputation, high-grade commissions will naturally come knocking."
After Putato finished, he turned and left, counting silently to three in his heart.
"I'll buy them!"
...
Clang.
Putato tapped the trash can lid, intending to snap Consta back to reality, but unexpectedly summoned a crowd of "trash elders." A human head popped out of every bin, sternly admonishing Putato for carelessly ringing the "assembly bell."
The two had no choice but to retreat from the alley of filth.
"Done - Is it done?"
"Of course. Are you still doubting me?"
Clutching the modest stack of banknotes in his hand, Putato finally breathed a sigh of relief. Although the amount was meager, as long as he produced results, Mo wouldn't be looking to harvest his organs.
"Then - I'll call Mo immediately. You are now a regular member!"
Putato discreetly and generously slipped some of the cash to Consta. He could feel the other man was genuinely pleased. Were they really becoming that close?
[Congratulations on your promotion within the Brotherhood of Iron]
[Acquired Work Item: Multi-functional Belt]
Listening to Consta and the other two chatting over the comms, Putato was overjoyed. Consta, you really are my brother!
[Work Item: Multi-functional Belt]
[Description: You now possess the capital to open a Prosthetic clinic in The City, which naturally includes the capital required to flee for your life.]
[Effect: The belt contains basic Prosthetic modification tools, along with a bonus Stun Grenade, Flashbang, Smoke Bomb, and Tear Gas.]
Damn it! Putato thought. Is opening a shop in The City really that dangerous?
He lifted his jacket to find a matte black belt secured around his waist, featuring two deployment devices tucked into the sides. However, the hardware brought him no sense of security. While deceiving Finn earlier, he had remembered a terrifying detail.
According to the established history of this world, Lobotomy Corporation was currently proceeding with the Seed of Light plan, and the consequences would be catastrophic. Regardless of the outcome, the Seed would trigger the Pianist incident. Nearly 80% of the population in District 9 would perish, and The City would be overrun by a surge of Distorted monsters!
For a weakling like Putato, this was the literal apocalypse—the Sword of Damocles hanging over his head. He absolutely had to infiltrate Lobotomy Corporation before the Seed was released. Only then could he acquire the specific work talents necessary to survive the coming Distortions.
"What - What's going on?!"
Putato's anxious spiraling was interrupted by Consta's alarmed cry. The entrance to the Brotherhood's outpost was currently blocked by a group of bare-chested men, their skin covered in intricate black tattoos. They were systematically dismantling the hideout; the main gate and windows had already been brutally demolished.
These were the Syndicate members known as the Stray Dogs!
Putato recognized them instantly. In The City, public order was the responsibility of various Associations, which also rated the severity of incidents. The Brotherhood of Iron was merely a Canard—the lowest rung on the ladder. The Stray Dogs, however, were an Urban Legend, the third tier of the hierarchy.
Even more frightening was their lineage: the Stray Dogs were a subsidiary of the Thumb—one of the Five Fingers that sat at the absolute pinnacle of power, known as the Star of the City!
"Bast - Bastards! What have you done to my home!"
Consta revved his chainsaw, charging forward with a look of desperate disbelief.
If you want to die, don't drag me down with you, Putato thought bitterly.
The battered steel frames of Mo and Arnold came rushing out of the ruins, followed by a muscular man with thick steel chains draped around his neck like a macabre necklace.
"Putato - Putato, Consta, run! These lunatics are raiding a fellow Syndicate!"
Big Sis, if you really want me to escape, stop shouting my name!
Gyeong-mi tugged at the iron chains on his chest, casually shaking off the bits of minced meat and metal scrap clinging to them. He cast a disdainful glance at Putato and the three Prosthetic members.
"Hmph. What kind of Brotherhood is this? I'll give you three seconds. If you aren't gone by then, you all die."
Putato looked at the Stray Dogs members half-encircling them, cold sweat soaking through his shirt.
"Don't come any closer, or I'll take everyone down with me!"
As the circle tightened, Putato put on a fierce expression and yanked a Stun Grenade from his belt. The Stray Dogs paused for a heartbeat, but before Putato could even catch his breath, mocking laughter erupted.
"You think a single grenade is enough to wipe us out?"
"Kid, do you think we're just a pile of rats?"
Putato ignored the sweat stinging his eyes, staring nervously at Gyeong-mi. The leader merely sneered, the tattoos on his neck distorting as his muscles tensed. Putato knew they weren't bluffing.
There were far too many ways to gain strength in The City: Tattoo Augmentations, Nano-technology, Prosthetics, Exoskeletal Armaments—the list was endless. A man like Gyeong-mi, enhanced with full-body Tattoos, could crush a low-grade Prosthetic into pulp with a single kick. A grenade was by no means a guaranteed kill.
"Damn it, even trash like you dares to provoke the Stray Dogs!" Gyeong-mi barked. "Bastard, bastard, bastard! Who gave you permission to bargain with me!"
Gyeong-mi, his veins bulging with fury, snatched the stolen money from a subordinate and slammed his fist against the wall. The force was so immense it punched clean through the building's interior and exterior walls.
"My - My money..."
Seeing Mo reach out heartbrokenly toward the scattered banknotes, a nameless rage flared within Putato. It was a surge of anger that reached his very core, paradoxically causing him to abandon fear even in the face of certain death.
"What's the matter? If you have the guts, come and blow us both to hell! It sounds easy, but you're actually terrified, aren't you? Otherwise, why would you still be hiding behind those hostages!"
"And you, Mo, you absolute idiot! Forget about your pathetic money—don't you care about your own life?!"
Gyeong-mi, who had just kicked down the heavy iron security door, laughed in a fit of fury. His bloodshot eyes were locked onto Putato.
Now, even his subordinates held their breath. When their leader's temper flared, he was capable of murdering Association Fixers without a second thought; he was utterly lawless.
"Do you really think a punk like you is worth using hostages against?!"
Bang!
Gyeong-mi delivered a lightning-fast kick. Mo and Arnold were instantly sent airborne, crashing violently into the wall across the street and shedding a shower of Prosthetic parts along the way.
Consta wanted to turn back to check on his fallen comrades, but he couldn't take his eyes off Putato, who was still confronting the enemy.
"Money... Money..."
Even with only his right leg remaining, Mo's electronic voice remained as monotonous as ever, only falling silent when Putato cursed at him.
Gyeong-mi approached slowly, like a caged lion barely restrained, his expressionless face making it hard for Putato to even breathe.
"I've heard of the Stray Dogs' reputation, Gyeong-mi. How about a wager? The four of us won't die today; in fact, we'll escape right before your eyes."
After saying this, Putato leaned in and whispered to Consta: "Hey, you three idiots, when I yell 'run,' you take me with you, understood?!"
Consta hesitated but gave a quick nod. The two iron-men behind them, however, felt Putato had truly lost his mind.
Could he not see the other guy's legs were harder than reinforced steel?
Whoosh!
A black shadow was hurled back at Putato by Gyeong-mi.
Pffft!
Putato staggered back three steps, spitting out a mouthful of blood as intense pain surged through his abdomen. He looked down and saw a mechanical plum, bristling with sensor connections, that had struck him.
"It... looks like Mo's toy."
Gyeong-mi maintained his throwing posture, his fury mounting at the mention of Putato's bet.
"You trash dare to gamble with me? Fine! The stakes are all of your lives!"
"If you win, I'll let you walk."
Putato began to slowly retreat.
"What's wrong? Aren't you going to use that grenade to take us all out? Pull the pin!"
As they retreated toward Mo and Arnold, Consta quickly grabbed hold of the two. Gyeong-mi casually drew a long blade from a subordinate's waist.
"Cowardly trash! Watch closely! The moment you throw that, I'll pin it and your palm together!"
With everyone's eyes fixed unblinkingly on him, Putato knew the moment had arrived.
Click.
Putato pulled the pin on the Stun Grenade and made a forceful throwing motion.
Gyeong-mi narrowed his eyes. The others hoped their leader would vent his rage on Putato so they wouldn't have to face it later.
In an instant, the long blade whistled through the air, piercing through the Stun Grenade and the flesh and bone of Putato's palm. Excruciating pain slammed into Putato's brain.
"Run!"
Whirr!
Before Gyeong-mi could savor his victory, a blinding light instantly engulfed the entire street. The deafening roar caused immediate, temporary deafness.
Everyone's head buzzed, rendering them unable to even think.
Putato was no exception.
To sell the bluff, he had convinced himself he was throwing a lethal grenade. Now, tears streamed down his face and he was surrounded by absolute silence.
Fortunately, the cold sensation of steel gripping his waist told him he was being carried away from danger.
He had whispered to the others to switch their Bionic Eyes to thermal vision mode the moment he threw it, allowing them to escape instantly. This was why Putato had provoked Gyeong-mi earlier—to force him to release his people.
Without these three Prosthetic members who were immune to the sensory overload of a Stun Grenade, Putato knew he wouldn't have stood a chance.
"Can... can you hear me?"
"Damn it... it seems I have to... resort to an emergency fix."
The Stun Grenade exploding so close to his face had caused Putato immense trauma. It took several agonizing moments to barely open his bloodshot eyes, but his hearing remained a muffled mess.
Oh no, am I deaf?
Click.
Following a crisp mechanical sound in his right ear, the world suddenly became clear.
"Hey... hey, Putato, can you hear us now?"
"Stop f***ing yelling, you're making me deaf all over again!"
Putato felt a sharp pain in his ear and pushed away the steel body in front of him. His vision was a blurred mess; he could only see three ragged, humanoid shapes.
Reaching out, Putato felt an implant in his right ear. His Cyborg work talent immediately identified it as a low-grade auditory sensor.
"Putato, thank you. I checked back—they didn't follow us."
Arnold hastily removed the syringe wristband from Putato's arm. Putato squinted and realized that Arnold and Mo each had only one leg left, leaning on each other to maintain their balance.
Bang!
To the shock of the group, Putato stood up and delivered a flying kick to Mo.
"Is money more important than your life?!"
"Non... nonsense! Without money, you wouldn't even be able to hear right now."
"This is all because of your stalling! Don't you know to run when you see a Syndicate that powerful?!"
"I... I was waiting for you to bring back the cash! I just wanted to buy some time. How was I supposed to know he'd attack like that? Besides, what is there to even rob from us?"
Thump, thump, thump.
A blue-haired man with a hedgehog-like style tapped the armrest of his modified reclining chair, then plunged his hands into the pockets of his white coat. Putato saw the anti-static gloves and knew he was a Doc.
"Alright, the ear is fixed. Pay up."
"My Prosthetic skills are top-tier, but it's a shame the Association doesn't recognize true talent; they refuse to certify my Workshop."
"When it comes to preliminary modifications, I usually discreetly harvest a few organs. You lot are fully Prostheticized pieces of meat anyway; missing a few guts won't slow you down."
"I've perfected the technique on Trash Elders, but unfortunately, their organs are too diseased to be worth much."
Damn it! Putato thought. This bastard had clearly murdered countless people for their kidneys. The three iron-men signaled the Doc to stop talking, but it only made him boast more.
"Doctor, is it safe enough here?" Putato asked, his hand drifting toward the belt beneath his jacket.
"Of course. Soundproof cotton, bulletproof panels—the works. Otherwise, the rats would have scavenged this place long ago."
"Alright, open wide."
"What? Mmph!"
Putato shoved a Stun Grenade directly into the Doc's mouth, then violently forced his chin upward, crushing several teeth in the process.
The Doctor, propped against the soundproof walls, barely had time to struggle before the grenade detonated with a muffled Bang!
Blood streamed from the Doctor's orifices as he slumped against the wall.
Ignoring his uncontrollably shaking right hand, a nearly fainting Putato turned to face the three members of the Brotherhood of Iron.
"Now, I saved your lives. Therefore, I am the boss."
"Who agrees, and who objects?"