Capítulo 12: Hunting Dogs
I reassembled my laptop on the same roof. However, this time I didn't use the original casing or screen. Instead, I connected a backup monitor and a mechanical keyboard.
I now have a setup where the keyboard is connected directly to the exposed motherboard and GPU fan via USB, and this is all linked to a portable monitor in front of me.
Currently, I am attempting to access my colleague's computer. Upon activating his camera, I discovered that he is in the process of being apprehended.
"Please, I surrender! My hands are raised!! Please, don't shoot!"
I observed him raising his hands while seated in his gaming chair, law enforcement officers aiming rifles and pistols at him. Subsequently, an individual in a brown suit entered the scene.
"We've arrived to engage in discussions, Yamamoto-san... Given your association with the infamous Necro, we're requesting your assistance in establishing a connection with him," the agent explained. I noticed he has glasses now.
"I-I don't know who that is—"
Just after he tried to protect my information, the man in the suit suddenly pulled a pistol and pulled the trigger as he pointed it upwards, causing fragments of concrete and dust from the rooftop of my colleague's apartment to scatter.
"YES! OKAY! J-just... Spare me, please!" The money launderer's panic intensified with each passing second.
The agents once again pried his mouth open and said, "We apologize for the intrusion, but we needed your attention. The PSIA views Necro as a potential asset and, since you have a connection, we've come to you. You have two options."
"O-options?" stammered the money launderer.
"You can face charges for money laundering, battery, and blackmail," the agents explained. "Alternatively, if you cooperate with us, not only will you receive employment, but your criminal record will also be expunged. Please choose wisely."
With that, one of the agents took out a phone and handed it to the hesitant Yamamoto, showing it turned on with a voice call app.
"....Alright."
Yamamoto... You're dead to me.
*Ring ring*
I retrieved the vintage flip phone I had purchased just days earlier, intending to use it for communication with the money launderer.
Upon flipping it open and placing it next to my ear, I was greeted by his anxious voice. "H-hey there! Necro-san! Uh, it's been quite some time, huh?"
When I invoked my magic perception, my once childish and high-pitched voice morphed into that of a cold-hearted middle-aged man. "You're rather disappointing, Yamamoto," I remarked, causing everyone in the room to widen their eyes. The phone's speaker broadcasted my voice, allowing everyone to listen in.
"Wh-what are you implying? I haven't said anything, you know. I'm simply reaching out to discuss matters with our new client, Necro-san—"
Interrupting once more, I interjected, "𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮?" With a tap of my keyboard, a small camera light next to Yamamoto's laptop illuminated, making it evident that the laptop camera had been activated from their end.
They finally comprehended the unfolding situation. The agent standing adjacent to Yamamoto interjected, "Greetings, Necro-san. I am—"
"𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐀, 𝐚𝐦 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭?"
Devoid of any visible emotion, he momentarily paused during his speech, then continued, "Indeed, your recognition of me as Necro is accurate... However, it seems there's a minor misunderstanding."
Perplexed, Necro arched an eyebrow.
"Allow me to present myself as Kimura Haruki. We function as a collaborative organization, given specific circumstances... We, originating from the CIRO, are interested in extending an offer for your recruitment. The compensation we propose is comparable to that which your 'companion' here provides."
CIRO? Wasn't that tied to Japan's intelligence Agency? The Cabinet Intelligence and Research Office (CIRO) stands as a governmental agency in Japan responsible for matters related to foreign intelligence and analysis.
(A/N: Basically, CIRO of Japan had the same function as CIA in the USA.)
In reality, it wasn't an entirely unfavorable proposition... When you're aligned with the government, one of the most enticing benefits is a degree of immunity.
The remuneration appeared attractive, and the tasks seemed secure, mainly involving my expertise in gathering intelligence. Yet, one couldn't help but entertain doubts; such a proposition seemed almost too good to be credible.
"𝐘𝐨𝐮... 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡..." I transmitted my voice through their speaker.
Infused with skepticism, I mumbled, "𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧-𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐨𝐝?"
Adjusting his glasses, the agent cast a resolute gaze upon the screen. "Indeed, that was what we hope it to be," he affirmed.
Their basis for seeking my recruitment stemmed solely from my assistance in solving crimes? That assertion seemed implausible.
Their intentions were transparent.
𝐔𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐠.
This isn't something I need.
.
.
.
"Kimura Haruki-san, is it?" I stated firmly. "Our conversation concludes here. My apologies, but I must decline your proposition."
In response, the agent released a deep sigh, his disappointment evident. "We had hoped for a different outcome, yet it appears circumstances leave us with no alternative... Nevertheless, I'm confident your perspective will alter after this," he concluded, wearing a composed smile.
*Bang*
"This is the police! Open the door!" Through the hacker's microphone, the resounding sound of forceful banging reverberated.
Upon the rooftop, the police hammered at the stairwell door. They had converged on the specific building once Kimura Haruki initiated contact with the hacker. The vintage flip phone's communication trace had led them to this location.
This constitutes their strategy – an ultimatum to either collaborate or face criminal charges.
"Heh, is that really what you think?"
However... something felt amiss. Right after "Necro" said his last words, Kimura Haruki and his agents discerned an unexpected sound emanating from the still-connected phone...
*Buzz*
"You're rather disappointing, Yamamoto..." Necro's voice pierced the air suddenly.
"Hm? Necro-san?" Kimura Haruki's eyebrow raised inquisitively.
"You still haven't grasped the situation, have you?" Necro's voice retained an unnatural quality.
Finally comprehending the situation, one of the agents muttered, "It's... repeating?"
"You're associated with the PSIA, am I correct? You... What a strange approach... Does the CIRO genuinely believe I'm some sort of a modern-day Robin Hood? Kimura Haruki-san, is it? Our conversation concludes here. My apologies, but I must decline your proposition." All of Necro's words echoed incessantly from the ongoing call, as though replayed from a recording.
"What the heck is going on!?"
*Bam!* On the other side, the police attempting to breach the rooftop door finally succeeded.
"Hands in the air!"
Haruki finally heard one of his men from the opposite side.
However, on the other side, the officers found no one. Only a vintage flip phone remained in an ongoing call alongside a looped recorder.
"The first half and the loops share the same frequency... It wasn't a real-time conversation at all! So... I've been talking to a recording this entire time!?"
A curious rumor inevitably spread to the authorities – that Necro had communicated with a high-ranking CIRO executive solely through a recording... As if he had not only predicted the organization's plans but also anticipated their exact words in their conversation. As if he can predict the future.
"Just how far can he see!?" The man's voice held both frustration and awe.
Of course, in reality, I had quickly escaped via wall walking and masking my presence...
Meanwhile, within Hoshino's residence,
"Ame! While your tech skills are impressive, please be mindful of where you place things! First a MacBook, and now a Gaming Laptop... These items aren't cheap, you know!?" (Miyako)
"Ame-chan... It's time you realize the importance of looking after your belongings." (AI)
I found myself on the receiving end of affectionate admonishments from both of my mothers.
I will never forgive those hounds.
.
.
.
To be continued
(A/N: 1251 word counts)
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