Putato left feeling a bit dejected, watching Harold's hurried departure with a sense of disappointment.
He had originally thought about getting closer to her to see if she could pull some strings, but her rushed exit suggested she wasn't interested in him yet, or perhaps she was just that desperate to investigate the Grey Haze.
"My friend, congratulations on your promotion to Grade 5. Truly young and promising! But tell me, are you aware that every year in The City, thousands upon thousands of elite Fixers end up disabled because they can't pay their medical bills? This leads to a vicious cycle where they can no longer accept commissions."
Who's hexing me?
Putato turned to see a man carrying a briefcase, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, wearing a formulaic, professional smile.
"I believe you won't be one of them; you have a bright future ahead. But one must always fear that unimaginable 'what if'!"
"Why not take out a 'Future Life Insurance' policy? Just the clause for free Prosthetic replacement upon disability has helped countless Fixers regain their former glory!"
Heh, trying to scam me?
He didn't need insurance. Any fatal wound could be patched up with a painful dose of Necro Emission. As long as the pieces fit, he was good to go. He was never getting Prosthetics in this lifetime.
"I have no interest in Prosthetics."
"Besides that, we have many other policies. For example, if a client suddenly backs out or cancels a commission, we can compensate you for at least sixty percent of the fee, ensuring every outing yields a profit."
"I'm a lone Fixer. No one dares to stiff me on my fees."
Putato decided it was time to find Elena. That Bloodfiend had gone on killing sprees in both the Nests and The Backstreets. She would definitely know how to exploit the loopholes in the immigration checkpoints.
"But surely you encounter unexpected accidents in daily life? For instance, food safety, do you ever feel like your head is spinning?"
"I'm broke. I have a whole crowd to feed at home. Understand?"
The man with the slicked-back hair immediately tucked away his documents and stepped aside.
"Mr. Vanda, please wait. I am Alloc from the Gaze Office."
Alloc, having emerged from the observation room, strode to catch up with Putato. He scanned Putato up and down, the three-colored cameras on his head whirring incessantly.
"Are you selling insurance too?"
"No, I sell knowledge."
"Get to the point!"
"I've heard of your exploits, and having just witnessed your combat prowess, I feel your talents are being utterly wasted!"
"The point."
Sensing Putato's unfriendly gaze, Alloc immediately sped up his speech.
"I know you're hungry for promotions and bigger paydays. So am I. Let's not mince words, I have access to certain commissions that can get you into a Nest."
"Oh? Do go on."
Putato immediately broke into a grin, acting like Alloc's long-lost brother. This sudden shift in persona only convinced Alloc that he hadn't misjudged his man. He loved people who could be measured in credits, they usually made for the smoothest partners.
"However, it's not that I'm intentionally making things difficult for you, it's just that your current resume is a bit... thin."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"If you just handle a bunch of commissions below Urban Myth rank to flesh out your record, say, for about half a year, I can slide you some high-end contracts. At that rate, you'll hit Grade 4 like me in no time."
"With your talent, you could probably sail all the way to Grade 3. You'd be more than qualified to join our Office. Heck, becoming a representative wouldn't even be out of the question."
Great. One insurance salesman leaves, and a shady headhunter shows up to paint pretty pictures. He just wants me to be his labor mule, doesn't he?
And he wants me to do kickback commissions for six months!
"Sounds good. Let's exchange contact info."
"I'll start sending you jobs soon. If you see something you like, we can kick off our partnership."
"You just handle the fieldwork; our Office takes care of all the red tape. The credit stays on your record, and the pay is advanced immediately."
"It's a deal."
Putato bid him a friendly farewell, having no intention of cutting ties just yet.
Fleshing out a resume? He had been grinding for quality before; grinding for quantity would be even easier.
Suddenly, his communicator vibrated violently.
"Putato! We're under attack!"
Hearing Mo's frantic voice, Putato's expression shifted instantly. He bolted out of the building, hijacked a motorcycle, and started it at light-speed, leaving the owner, who had just been taking a photo of his new ride, completely stunned.
By the time the owner reacted and started swearing, he only heard Putato's fading shout:
"Just borrowing it! I'll give it back later!"
In The City, anyone who believed a line like that was insane. The owner didn't believe it for a second, but he chased after him frantically anyway, eventually watching in vain as his new bike spat out a trail of exhaust smoke.
The preoccupied Putato didn't spare the owner another glance. His Unfettered talent made finding people a breeze. If he said he'd return it, he actually would.
When he arrived at the scene, Putato saw a mob of guys either wearing blue shirts and jackets or sporting blue hats and armbands, swarming the iron gates of the building.
Almost every one of them had their skin painted blue. It was an eyesore.
Putato thought for a second, ducked into a nearby alley, and pressed a pneumatic syringe against the burns on his face. The hideous scars vanished instantly. Then, he stripped off his outer coat.
"Use the car to ram it down! We of the Blue Square investigate wherever we damn well please!"
Someone moved to start the large blue cargo truck, but Putato shoved him back, snatching the man's blue hat right out of his hand.
"Who the hell are you guys?"
"I should be asking you that! Do you even know who we are?! You've got some nerve picking a fight with us!"
"You guys fall into a dye vat together or what?"
That provocation instantly ignited the fury of the entire Blue Square. Ignoring their orders, they swarmed him like a disorganized mob.
Putato watched them with cold eyes, scanning the crowd for the leader. He planned to torture the objective out of them. This place was near Stray Dogs territory. No Syndicate had dared to cause trouble here before.
WHOOSH!
To Putato's surprise, a violent pillar of flame erupted instantly. The extreme heat scorched his shirt and made his skin sting.
"What the hell?!"
Putato spun around, staring in disbelief at a three-man team operating a massive flamethrower. There were at least three such teams, and they were hosing down the area with zero regard for their own allies caught in the crossfire.
"Hack him to pieces!"
"This idiot actually let us surround him! He's got a death wish!"
"Dumbass, we belong to the The Ring! Our pigments protect us from the heat! HAHAHA!"
Like hell that's just pigment!
With no time to ponder what kind of substance The Ring's pigment actually was, Putato exhaled sharply. A billowing cloud of mist erupted, instantly forming the face of a Smiling Face.
Hematic Pump!
"What is this? Fire-extinguishing foam?"
SLASH!
A terrifying blade arc, amplified by the mist, immediately taught them exactly what it was. In a split second, blood and severed limbs flew everywhere. Their joy turned to terror as they scrambled to get away from Putato.
"Shit! Scatter!"
"Quick, use the white phosphorus! Burn this guy alive!"
Honesuki instantly disemboweled three of the attackers. The inferno from behind licked at their exposed organs, triggering a chorus of agonized screams.
Showing no mercy, Putato reversed his grip on Honesuki. He stepped on an attacker's head to launch himself into the air, heading straight for the flamethrower teams. The operators frantically swung their nozzles, trying to turn the mid-air Putato into a roasted turkey.
"The moron jumped! Aim! Aim!"
"That mist won't do shit against this much fire!"
Although he realized these guys weren't personally strong, Putato had no interest in experiencing full-body burns. He didn't want to become a Vanda Plus version of himself.
TING!
Concealed weapons hidden within his clothes were instantly detached by the reactive Workshop Mindcord, sliding down his sleeves and into his hands. Mist spiraled around his palms, amplifying his strength. With a cold glint in his eyes, Putato flicked his wrists, letting loose a series of shrill, air-piercing whistles.
WHIZ! WHIZ! WHIZ!
The three flamethrower teams collapsed backward in unison, falling as cleanly and decisively as wheat flattened by a storm. The blue-bandana thugs nearby, terrified by the sight, turned and bolted.
"It's Putato! We found him!"
"He's really here! Hurry, report back to the Lord of The Ring! We finally found him!"
The moment Putato landed, he swept his hands in a circular motion, gathering a massive amount of Softened-Mist into a spiraling vortex. Watching the fleeing Blue Square members, he realized the situation.
These guys were likely just scouts sent to gather intel, which was why there were no heavy hitters. But if he let them get back, he'd likely face a retaliatory strike from The Ring before the night was out!
"You think you can just leave?!"
BOOM!
The condensed mist exploded violently. Even the gang members who had managed to put some distance between themselves and Putato were knocked flat, coughing up blood.
"Putato!"
Mo, who had been watching anxiously through a peephole, rushed out. The white mist had mostly dissipated, revealing Putato at the center of the explosion. Aside from some scorched skin on his back, he was unscathed.
The circular emblem on Mo's face flickered incessantly, her heart fluttering with an inexplicable joy.
Ever since meeting Putato, he had been nothing but reliable. He never disappointed her, to the point where she now contacted him immediately whenever something big happened.
But then she remembered he wasn't the only one in the building, and that he hadn't rushed back just for her. Mo couldn't help but feel a twinge of sulkiness.
A gentle afternoon breeze usually doesn't spark greedy thoughts of possession, but in the face of such a unique treasure, it's hard for anyone to suppress the desires blooming in their heart.
"Are you okay? When I went out to upgrade my chassis earlier, I ran into these 'blue roasted turkeys.' They chased us for miles before we lost them."
"I didn't think they'd actually track us all the way here today."
"Consta, Arnold, move it! Clear out the street! Don't let all these corpses pile up in front of our door!"
The two prosthetic users nearby grumbled as they began clearing the battlefield.
Putato struggled to stand, but his expression suddenly shifted as a wave of weakness washed over his legs. Instinctively reaching out for support, he grabbed Mo's prosthetic shoulder just before he could collapse.
"Careful!"
...
Back on the sofa, Putato clutched his nauseous chest, waiting for Katae's health check-up.
The prosthetic trio sat nearby at the dining table, dealing with several rowdy children. Olivia, who had been hiding behind a plastic Christmas tree chair, straightened herself up before happily diving into Putato's arms.
"Big brother Putato! The orphanage is getting corporate funding again! I even got some allowance yesterday, here, it's all for you!"
"Keep it, spend it on yourself."
Putato rubbed his aching eyes. He had to consider moving everyone out of here. He couldn't let them stay and wait for The Ring to show up at the doorstep, Syndicates didn't have a concept of "innocent bystanders."
"Then I'll use it to pay Big Brother Finn to teach me how to fight! I want to become a powerful Fixer and repay you, Brother Putato!"
"Keep the money."
First of all, I have nothing against Finn, but paying him to teach someone how to fight? That's just flushing money down the drain.
Katae approached Putato with his hands behind his back and his head bowed. Putato quickly coaxed Olivia away to go play with some wood carvings before signaling Katae to sit and speak.
"Brother, theoretically, your body should be fine after the comprehensive healing from the regeneration serum. However, your muscles did exhibit symptoms of sudden failure just now. It might be a psychological issue."
Hearing this, Mo, who had leaned in to listen, snapped her head up.
"This guy has psychological issues? Did you see him earlier? He struts around like he owns the place. He didn't even blink when he wiped out that mob of blue punks."
"Impossible! There's nothing wrong with me!"
"See?" Mo countered. "One word and he bristles. He's more likely to drive other people to a breakdown."
Putato frowned, ready to retort, but he felt Katae's slightly cold palm brush against his right cheek. Like a soft, soothing ice pack, his touch calmed him down.
He looked at the serene Katae and waited for him to explain.
"Anxiety, depression, or psychological trauma can, in severe cases, manifest physically, leading to abnormalities."
"Thank you, Brother. You've sacrificed so much to protect me."
Looking at the others around them, Katae tucked a strand of long hair behind his ear with a slight awkwardness. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the back of Putato's hand resting on the sofa. For a moment, Putato felt as if a large, docile cat was crouching in front of him.
"Thank you for what? You've got arms and legs, can't you move on your own? You don't always need someone to protect you."
Mo stood there, arms crossed, tapping her foot in irritation. Seeing Katae's "damsel in distress" act made her blood boil. She was about to say more, but Putato raised a hand to cut her off.
"Enough. The Ring has found this place. Mo, see if you can find somewhere for everyone to lay low for a bit."
"Is this trouble from that last commission?"
"Yeah. I killed one of The Ring's Maestros. Wym."
The room went so quiet you could have heard a pin drop.
Olivia and Katae felt a wave of relief. Even children in The City knew the names and the terrifying power of the Five Fingers, the fact that Putato could handle such an enemy was almost unbelievable.
The prosthetic users, who understood Wym's true strength, felt a storm brewing in their hearts. How had Putato pulled off something that explosive so quietly?!
"Shit! Why didn't you tell us?! What are you standing around for? Pack your things!"
"Are you insane? If we've made an enemy of The Ring, we're as good as dead!"
Two caregivers, carrying boxes, froze in the doorway. This happy workplace had instantly transformed into a den of death.
"I'm telling you now, aren't I?"
"We... we should take the children back to the orphanage. We can fix it up enough to live in. Plus, it was donated to the Me Me Me Church before, and since the church is gone, we can just take it back."
"Good idea! I'll go gather the kids right now!"
The entire building erupted into a frenzy of activity.
"Mo, I'm counting on you guys to move everyone over in groups. Stay there for a while as well."
"And what about you?"
"If I go with you, what was the point of moving everyone?"
"No! The three of us are staying to help you!"
Arnold, in the background, looked like he wanted to say something, but Mo hadn't forgotten to include them even in this situation.
"Staying for what? I'm planning to rig this place with explosives. I'd just end up burying you all with it."
Putato shrugged indifferently and waved Mo away, giving her no chance to argue. He turned and headed to his room to rest.
...
By the time he woke up, the place was deserted.
Putato closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He decided that for a while, he would operate primarily as the Fixer Vanda, it was time to climb further up the Association ranks.
"Elena, are you there?"
"I'm listening."