6. Tracking
"Albert McClain. Age 28. Resides at 3rd Allegrin Avenue. No parents; has one seven-year-old younger brother. Lives on part-time jobs with no fixed income. At the time of the incident, he was working the night shift at a convenience store."
As the woman finished her briefing, a rectangular glowing screen flickered to life amidst the dark blackout curtains. The CCTV footage showed the convenience store counter. The clerk, apparently having finished organizing items, appeared from the bottom left corner and stepped behind the counter. He wrote something on a square clipboard he was holding and tucked it into the narrow space between the cash register and the display shelf. A moment later, a man threw open the glass door and staggered inside, unable to steady his body. He passed the counter immediately, sought out the product shelves, and disappeared off the edge of the frame. The clerk, seemingly indifferent, sat on a stool and looked at his phone.
After a while, the man reappeared on screen and tossed a small item onto the counter. The two seemed to stop for a split second, as if the man had said something to the clerk, and soon the clerk turned around to look for cigarettes. The clerk pulled out a pack, scanned the barcode, and set it down in front of the man. The man stood still for a moment, picked up the cigarettes, and while saying something to the clerk, suddenly flicked the pack at him. The clerk hesitated, looking flustered, then picked up the fallen cigarettes. The man leaned forward, bracing both arms on the counter. He continued to rant at the clerk, who looked lost, glancing around but remaining rooted to the spot. The man raised his right hand and began pointing his finger aggressively. The clerk now kept his gaze lowered, as motionless as a wooden statue. The man used his left arm to violently shove the card reader next to him. The clerk remained still.
The man stepped away from the counter for a moment, continued muttering, then suddenly lunged at the clerk, shoving his chest hard with his right hand. The clerk collapsed instantly under the force of the blow. The man continued to say something to the fallen clerk before opening the door and leaving. From that point on, the time-stamping numbers at the bottom right of the screen moved, but the image remained still, showing no movement. After about ten minutes, the clerk, who had disappeared below the counter, rose in a hunched posture, pushed open the counter gate, and staggered out of the convenience store.
"This is the latest record related to him as of now."
"You're saying the clerk turned into a Madman?"
"That is the current assumption."
"Reasoning?"
"The initial report was around 21:40, and a witness spotted him near the post office. When we responded to the final report yesterday, the target was confirmed by an agent to be in a Semi-Madman state. In the case of a Semi-Madman, it takes approximately two hours from the onset of symptoms to the point of visible physical transformation. Investigating all CCTV within a two-hour radius of the reported location, this is the most likely scenario."
The man closed his eyes briefly, furrowing his brow as if deep in thought.
"For a Semi-Madman, it takes up to ten days to become a Full Transform. About 52 hours have passed since the estimated onset. There is still time to capture him and transfer him to the Reformatory."
"Capture, you say. How do you plan to catch him?"
"As is usually the case, he is still at a stage where he can identify acquaintances. I plan to proceed with the investigation centered on those around him."
The man spoke as he stood up.
"We don't have much time. If capture is difficult, we must at least create a situation where his location can be tracked. If he becomes a Madman, civilian casualties are inevitable. If, by any chance, he becomes a Full Transform..."
The man adjusted his glasses and said:
"Shoot to kill immediately."
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"Kitchen assistant, courier, convenience store, logistics center, parking attendant, night security, grocery stocking, item sorting, manual labor, packaging, promotion, clinical trials… I mean, how many part-time jobs has he had? This guy is quite versatile."
"It's still just part-time work..."
Supremer said, looking down at the income statement in his hand. He was in a foul mood, having had to write a statement of apology regarding the Madman he missed yesterday and his unauthorized discharge of a firearm. Since returning, he had been searching for information about the Madman in the Data Management Office, but no significant locations had turned up. The information found so far was that the target was a young man who changed jobs incredibly often, with no place he stayed consistently other than his workplaces. Stakeout agents were on 24-hour standby at his home—the most likely place for him to return—but there had been no contact. Based on the information they had, before becoming a Madman, the man lived a suffocatingly tight life: heading to work as soon as he opened his eyes, working all day, and returning straight home to end the day. However, judging by his numerous career changes, he wasn't exactly someone who fit into a workplace, or perhaps his abilities weren't regular enough to handle standardized, repetitive work.
"Another clumsy one has been picked this time."
A man with a thick beard, wearing a white coat and round black sunglasses, spoke while reviewing the CCTV footage. Supremer and O'Brien turned their heads to look at the middle-aged man with deep nasolabial folds. This was Kobe, the Director of the Information Security Center—the one who provided information to the Hunters (though 'Agents' sounded more dignified here) before anyone else.
"A clumsy personality like this is perfect for tormenting."
"Is he a good person?"
"He's good. And not just good—he's devoted. The kind of guy who just works silently without a word. While others his age were foolishly hanging around girls, he was too busy taking care of his seven-year-old brother to ever think about dressing up. He couldn't even say no when his boss forced overtime. The type who hurts himself by accepting everything without a word to avoid causing friction with others. He has all the perfect conditions to become a Madman."
He smiled, white teeth flashing through his black beard as if a very interesting subject had appeared. He smelled like a widower because he hadn't gone home for days, but whenever a new Madman appeared, his eyes shone intelligently behind his black sunglasses. He had a somewhat morbid hobby of searching for Madmen; in his experience, the more virtuous and kind a Madman was, the more satisfied and happy he looked. (Though it didn't necessarily prove the premise that 'the extremely virtuous are hypocrites.') Just as the others were beginning to feel repulsed by Kobe's obsessive behavior, Supremer's sphere robot flickered.
"Call."
As the sphere robot projected a beam in front of Supremer, April appeared on a 15-inch rectangular screen.
"A search warrant has been issued by headquarters. The order is to locate the Madman within the next 24 hours. Since it's an emergency search warrant, we'll be able to enter most locations."
A search warrant with the silver emblem of the Bureau of Security Inspection appeared in the top right corner of the screen.
"Where do we need to go?"
O'Brien asked, scratching his bronze-colored bald head.
"Our assigned area is the entire Strausga. I'll be there in about 10 minutes, so you guys head out too."
"Okay, but are you alright? I can't even see your face because you've got so many bandages on."
"What are you talking about? She looks lovely. She resembles Annie the Tomboy from that popular kids' TV show."
At Supremer's sarcasm, April silently raised her middle finger before the screen went dark.
"We're off, Kobe."
As O'Brien opened the door, Kobe spoke while looking out the window through the blinds.
"He'll be hard to find before he becomes a Full Transform. He's probably hiding somewhere deep, shivering in fear while denying what he's becoming."