In A Watchlist

Roy had experienced a lot of inconveniences in his life, but getting dragged to CDPO/CGOM Headquarters was starting to near the top of his list.

It wasn’t the arrest, exactly, he had been in worse situations. It was the process that irritated him. The tedious background checks. The interrogations. The long silences meant to test his patience.

It wasn’t even like he was guilty of anything major. But being held in a government building filled with armed officers, cybernetically enhanced enforcers, and interplanetary law officials?

Yeah. He didn’t like that a bit.

The headquarters itself was a fortress, built to withstand both internal riots and external attacks. The cold metallic corridors and sterile, modernist aesthetic only made the experience feel even more suffocating. And of course, there was Lieutenant Lee Jisoo.

She sat at her desk, typing away, her face illuminated by the faint blue glow of the holo-terminal.

Her expression, as usual, was unreadable, cool, focused, like the chaos of the world outside barely touched her.

Roy, who had been sitting across from her for what felt like an eternity, finally leaned back in his chair and exhaled.

“…Is lethal force always allowed? I didn’t expect you to just shoot them dead like that officer.”

Jisoo barely reacted.

Her emerald-green eye flicked up from the screen, scanning his face before returning to her work.

“Not usually,” she said, fingers still moving across the keyboard. “But Mars has different rulings.”

Roy tilted his head. “If this was Earth?”

She stopped typing.

Her gaze lifted again, this time locking onto his.

“If this was Earth, it could have been different,” she said, her tone as flat as a blade. “I would have been on paid leave, scrutinized by the media.”

That answer carried weight.

Roy immediately understood that violence was an accepted reality here.

People got shot in the streets, and unless it disrupted something bigger, nobody cared.

This wasn’t Earth.

This was the Wild West of space.

Jisoo must have read his expression because she studied him a second longer before asking,

“Have you killed anyone Mr. Inman?”

Roy blinked once, then shook his head.

“No. I’m not a murderer.”

That was technically true. He had been around death. Maybe even enabled it.

But pull the trigger himself? No. Even if he did, he couldn’t remember or he was simply too detached. And even if he had, he sure as hell wasn’t telling her.

Jisoo watched him for another few seconds, as if measuring his response.

Then, finally, she leaned back, seemingly satisfied with his answer.

Or at least, satisfied that she wouldn’t get anything more out of him.

The silence stretched again.

Roy wasn’t in a hurry to break it.

Instead, he let his eyes drift over Jisoo, studying her the way she had been studying him.

Her perfectly pressed uniform, her impeccable posture, the way she carried herself, professional, unreadable, controlled.

She had the kind of face that looked like it had never once betrayed an emotion she didn’t want to show.

But beneath the cold exterior, there was something else.

Something dangerous.

Roy had always had a weakness for women that could kick his ass..

Jisoo must have noticed his gaze because she arched her brow.

“You sure like my looks,” she said flatly.

Roy smirked. “I mean… you’re beautiful, Ma’am.”

Jisoo gave the smallest nod, as if she had heard the compliment a thousand times before.

It wasn’t an insult. It wasn’t even arrogance. It was just… a fact to her.

Roy chuckled. “No ‘thank you’?”

“I don’t need to thank you for stating the obvious,” Jisoo replied, her voice as dry as the Martian dust outside.

Roy grinned. He liked that.

Most people got flustered when complimented.

Jisoo just took it in stride and kept moving.

Exactly the kind of woman he found dangerous.

And attractive.

“Am I free to go now?” Roy asked, shifting slightly in his seat. “I don’t exactly have anything to do, but this place is uncomfortable”

“Not yet.”

Jisoo returned her focus to the screen. “They haven’t processed your records yet.”

Roy groaned. “That’s slow as hell. You guys have interplanetary tech, and you’re telling me it takes this long?”

“We have to update both databases,” Jisoo said, not looking up. “It's a law that Earth’s and Mars’ records are synchronized.”

Roy frowned. “Why?”

Jisoo stopped typing. She glanced at him, then, after a brief pause, sighed.

She tapped a few keys, and the holo-screen shifted, now displaying a political map of Mars.

“You’re new to this matter,” she said, finally indulging him. “So let me give you a free lesson.”

Roy crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. “I’m listening.”

Jisoo gestured toward the screen.

“Mars isn’t a nation. It’s a planet. And planets don’t have governments, they have owners.”

Roy’s brow furrowed. “Owners?”

Jisoo nodded. “When Mars was first colonized, every first-world nation that contributed to its development claimed a stake. The United States. The European Federation. The Pan-Asian Alliance. The South American Trade Bloc. The African Economic Coalition. They all own pieces of Mars.”

She tapped the screen again, zooming in on a particular city.

“This is Hays City. Technically, it’s owned by the state of Texas.”

Roy raised a brow. “Texas? You’re telling me there’s an entire Martian city owned by Texas?”

Jisoo gave him a look. “Yes.”

Roy exhaled. “Huh.”

She zoomed out, showing a web of territories, each one color-coded by the nation or corporate entity that controlled it.

“Alba City,” Jisoo continued, “is neutral ground. It was established as an international city — one of the primary landing hubs for new arrivals.”

Roy stared at the mess of borders and jurisdiction lines.

“And the CDPO?” he asked.

“We’re a multinational force,” Jisoo explained. “We don’t serve a single country. We serve Mars as a whole.”

She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed.

“Every officer here has temporarily abandoned their nationality to serve the CDPO.”

Roy tapped a finger against the table. “So you don’t have a home country anymore?”

Jisoo was silent for a moment.

Then she said, “No.”

Just that.

No elaboration.

No emotion.

Roy studied her.

“So, in a way,” he mused, “you’re more Martian than Earthling now.”

Jisoo held his gaze.

Then, after a long pause, she said:

“Yes.”

Roy leaned back, processing everything.

“So let me get this straight,” he said. “Mars is owned by Earth’s superpowers, divided up like a corporate land grab. Alba City is neutral, which is why it’s a hotbed for criminals and syndicates. CDPO acts as the law but doesn’t answer to any single nation.”

Jisoo nodded.

Roy exhaled.

“Jesus. No wonder this place is a fucking mess.”

Jisoo actually smirked at that. “Welcome to Mars.”

Roy chuckled, shaking his head. He had been hearing that phrase everywhere.

Mars really was the Wild West of space.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

And people like Jisoo?

They were the gunslingers trying to keep order in a lawless frontier.

He suddenly understood why she was the way she was.

Why she was so cold, so pragmatic, so willing to kill when needed.

This wasn’t Earth where an officer could not get easily away with using excessive force.

There were no trials. No lengthy court hearings.

You either held the line… or you died.

Jisoo turned her screen off and stood up.

“You’re free to go,” she said. “Please make sure to follow the law, Mr. Inman and pay your fines. Try to stay out of trouble.”

Roy got up, rolling his shoulders. “Appreciate the hospitality and the history lesson, Lieutenant. Do you mind if I get your number?”

Jisoo walked past him toward the door. Before opening it, she glanced back.

“No,” she said.

Then she walked out.

Roy exhaled, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Well, he tried.

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Roy got back to his apartment without a fuss.

He locked the door behind him, tossing his jacket over the armrest of his couch before sinking into it with a sigh.

The room, as always, was small, but functional with his single bed pushed against the far wall, a cluttered desk covered in spare parts and tools, and a small kitchenette where a half-empty bottle of whiskey stood next to a week-old takeout container.

The air smelled like cheap detergent and burnt coffee.

He had been meaning to clean up, but after the kind of day he just had?

Yeah. Not happening.

Instead, he pulled out his PDA and dialed Pedro’s number. The call barely rang twice before the gruff voice of his boss-slash-mentor-slash-co-conspirator answered.

“Got into trouble, Sir,” Roy said first.

There was a bark of laughter on the other end. “You are unlucky, lad.” Pedro sounded entirely too amused. “The CDPO and CGOM officers are like rats nibbling on strewn cheese these days. You’d think they were sniffing out something big.”

Roy rubbed his temple, shifting on the couch. “Did I get you into a mess, Sir?”

Pedro chuckled. “I repair their cars. I don’t think they’ll find trouble with me. How about you? Are they deporting you to Earth?”

Roy snorted. “No. I doubt they’d waste a starship ticket on me.”

Pedro let out another gruff laugh. “Good. Finding a good set of hands in this place is… troublesome.”

“Yeah… but I might have to stay low, Sir. That acceptable?”

Pedro was quiet for a second, then said, “I understand. We have troubles as immigrants — either on this planet or the other.”

“Tell me about it.”

Roy ended the call, tossing his PDA onto the coffee table.

Then he grabbed the remote, flicking on the TV.

The free channels were nothing but advertisements and showreels, glitzy, neon-drenched segments of celebrities, rising stars, and upcoming events. Most of it was manufactured, artificial, with faces too perfect, too symmetrical to be natural.

But then one caught his attention.

A stadium, packed with people.

And in the center of it, standing beneath the glow of a hundred spotlights, was her.

Aria Rella.

Her hair was a shade of red so rich it almost looked unreal, flowing past her shoulders like silk. Her jade-green eyes carried an intensity that seemed to pierce through the screen, her movements fluid, almost unnatural in their perfection.

But it wasn’t just her beauty.

It was her voice.

Roy stared, brows furrowing.

Her singing was hypnotic, not in a figurative way, but literally.

There was a pull to it, an almost imperceptible effect that made him forget to blink, to breathe.

Instinctively, he pulled up his PDA, running a quick search.

Aria Rella: The Untouched Idol.

The headlines were filled with the same repeated claim about her.

No augments. No cybernetics. No genetic alterations.

Completely natural.

That was unheard of.

Especially in the entertainment industry, where modifications were as common as makeup.

Roy leaned forward, scrolling through her social feed.

A billion followers.

That number wasn’t surprising.

At first, it was just passing interest, but the more he scrolled, the more he saw just how meticulously crafted her career was.

Everything about her was calculated.

From her skits to her cameos, to the way she advertised without making it feel like advertising. Every move was perfectly orchestrated.

Roy almost laughed.

A few hours ago, he had been dodging bullets.

Then he got detained by a lieutenant who probably wanted to pin something on him.

And now?

Now he was sitting in his shitty apartment, getting sucked into a rabbit hole about an idol singer.

“Well, that’s this place for you,” Roy muttered, rubbing his eyes.

He sighed, switching over to his PC.

It was an old model patched together from spare parts and black-market mods, but it worked.

Roy logged onto an anonymous imageboard.

Somehow, it was a miracle that forums like these still existed, places where people shitposted freely, where discussions ranged from conspiracy theories to deep-dive analyses on the latest entertainment trends.

He found the kind of thread he was looking for and typed out his first post:

“New fan here. From Mars.”

It didn’t take long for the replies to flood in. The kind that didn’t hold back because of the anonymity of the place. He casually filtered out the earth and martian slurs as he read through the replies.

“An Ayy LMAOOO”

“Mars is not real and is a psyop btw.”

“I see that aliens are also attracted to our Oshi. Btw she’s mine.”

“What’s your job, anon?”

Roy snorted, shaking his head.

He quickly typed back:

“Freelancer. Ex-janitor. Currently a mechanic. Also, possibly on a government watchlist.”

That reply got some traction.

“A true Martian experience.”

“What did you do?”

“Any QT Martians out there?”

Roy leaned back in his chair, staring at the screen.

Somewhere along the way, he had missed being just a regular guy.

Back on Earth, well, at least the Earth he knew, he had a remote job, spent his nights shitposting online, and never had to worry about dodging rounds or getting interrogated by a beautiful but terrifying police officer.

How the hell did his life turn into this?

He ran a hand down his face, sighing.

Mars was messing with his head.

Too much had happened in too short a time.

The Dumas job. The assassination attempt. The CDPO tightening their grip on the city.

And now, something was brewing.

Something big.

He could feel it in the way people talked, the way tensions were building, the way the city itself seemed to be holding its breath.

It wouldn’t be long before everything cracked open.

Roy didn’t know which side he’d end up on.

Hell, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to be on any side.

But Mars didn’t care what he wanted.

Mars had a way of pulling people in and chewing them up.

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Lieutenant Lee Jisoo sat in her dimly lit office, the glow of her holo-screen casting sharp shadows across the walls.

She had been at this for hours.

Thousands of video feeds, meticulously scrubbed and analyzed.

Every frame, every second, meticulously broken down by an AI rigged for facial recognition, searching for one specific anomaly.

And she had found him.

Roy Inman.

A new arrival with a fake identity, working a menial job at the hotel where Alexander Dumas had been staying.

It was almost too obvious.

Jisoo drummed her fingers on the desk, her emerald gaze narrowing as she replayed the footage.

Roy Inman, janitor.

Roy Inman, moving through hallways.

Roy Inman, watching but never acting.

And that was the problem.

There was no evidence linking him to the assassination attempt on Alexander Dumas.

She had looked. Hard.

His movements were casual, calculated, natural, but never suspicious enough.

He was around, but never involved.

And yet…

Her instincts screamed at her.

Something about him wasn’t right.

Jisoo sat back, exhaling slowly.

“Who are you, really?” she muttered under her breath.

Her gaze flicked to the Callisto Syndicate dossier open on her secondary screen.

If Roy Inman was tied to anyone, it was them.

But what kind of Syndicate operative worked as a janitor and later a mechanic?

If he was a higher-up, he wouldn’t be running small-time gigs.

If he was just a grunt, he wouldn’t be this damn careful.

He was a mercenary, that much she could tell. A Freelancer moving through the cracks of Mars’ chaotic underbelly.

And that meant legally, she had nothing.

The laws of the Mars Frontier were complicated, deliberately so.

The lines between criminal and mercenary had become blurred.

And without hard evidence, she couldn’t touch him.

Jisoo clenched her jaw.

It was frustrating.

She hated leaving loose ends.

Her eyes drifted to the press release playing on her third screen, where Alexander Dumas’ face filled the frame.

The speech that had changed everything.

"We must not allow Mars to become another haven for these parasitic bastards!"

"If these syndicates and mercenaries are trying to turn this planet into a criminal empire, then we must show them that Mars is not theirs to take!"

"We must take the first step. We must root out the rot before it consumes us!"

Jisoo had watched that speech live.

And unlike most politicians, Dumas had backed his words with action.

He had taken a massive gamble, allowing himself to become a target just to prove a point.

And he had won that gamble magnificently.

The failed assassination attempt had become an interplanetary headline.

Every news network, from Earth to the Mars colonies, had picked up the story.

Even the alternative media, the conspiracy forums, the underground channels, everyone was talking about it.

And now?

More CDPO officers. More CGOM forces. More Earth-based security firms are being contracted.

Dumas had gotten exactly what he wanted.

And now Mars is changing.

For better or worse.

Jisoo sighed, rubbing her temple before dragging her cursor over Roy Inman’s profile.

She should have moved on.

She should have dismissed him.

The investigation had bigger fish to fry—people who were actually linked to the attempt on Dumas' life.

And yet…

Something about him wouldn’t let her go.

Jisoo had fought a lot of people. Had seen a lot of people. She knew when someone was dangerous.

And Roy Inman was dangerous.

Not in the obvious way.

Not in the "chrome-laced killer with a blood-soaked resume" kind of way.

But in the subtle way that made her grip her weapon a little tighter when he was around.

He was too calm in the face of danger.

Too relaxed when confronted.

Too quick to adapt.

Even his flirting, casual, sarcastic, deflecting, felt too well-practiced.

Like someone who had been through worse and learned how to make it look easy.

And that wasn’t normal.

That wasn’t how most people acted when confronting officers like her.

Jisoo knew two kinds of people who reacted like that, seasoned operators and dead men walking. She tapped her finger against the desk, staring at his profile for a long moment.

Then, finally, she clicked a single button. A small notification popped up on-screen.

[SUBJECT FLAGGED FOR MONITORING]

Roy Inman was now on a watchlist.