It's Not Easy (8—Last Part)
An hour and 15 minutes later.
Fox walked to his Blackflower Boutique. It was a little late, but he could still see the lights on, and the number of clientele leaving. After several days since the second floor opened, the clients became used to the schedule and didn't try funny business anymore. For example, if they were still far from the boutique and couldn't come until too late; if there wasn't enough time, they would just not come to bother the boutique.
This wasn’t something Fox came to know, but the attendants, who even if they are not socializing enthusiasts, learned to help the clientele and ease their mood. And now, Fox walked to it slightly from afar, with his jacket over his shoulder, his shirt loose, and pants wore more comfortably. He walked step by step, without the slightest bit of hurry.
“?” Fox looked at the entrance of his boutique just as he came across a corner. A building obstructing view from it just revealed a black-hooded man smacking the glass door, expectantly looking at it as he did.
It didn’t break because Fox had it ‘improved’ a few weeks ago, but the hooded man, who already seemed irritated, was enraged due to the door not crashing into bits. He cursed, letting Fox hear from afar, and walked away with his hands in his hood’s pockets.
This did not break Fox’s mood, feeling fresh and floating like in a pool of just the right temperature after remaining in the cold or hotness of the surroundings. He did frown, though. Walking to the boutique, only a few attendants remained, with Fabiola and the clerks having a chat in one of the first floor backrooms.
Fox heard sniffling and anxious debating before even walking into the boutique’s sidewalk. Entering it, the attendants looked at him with widened eyes before worriedly lowering their gazes. Finding no fault with them, Fox went to the backrooms to see to whatever was happening.
“What was that about?” Fox asked out loud as soon as he entered the storage room that Fabiola and the rest had gone into. His voice surprised them, but they weren’t scared, only concerned with frowns and not knowing what to say.
“It’s, ugh,” Fabiola faced him first and tried to explain but found it too hard to do so. Pamela stepped forth and voiced, sounding just as hurt but indignant, unlike Fabiola, who felt dispirited. “It’s the… illegal floor charge.”
Fox raised an eyebrow. Fabiola stood up with a face crestfallen, “Rumors of these things spreading to the capital have been going for like a decade, but they were just rumors even a few years ago. Now? They seem to be true.”
“I heard from other business owners being threatened near the center, but I just didn’t see it as I do now, thinking they got into family or internal strife in the business. We are ‘tasked’ to bring out 150,000 credits a month to them… or ‘else’.” Fabiola said, her lips quivering.
Fox lifted both eyebrows and looked down at the girls, before setting his gaze on Fabiola. Before, Fox would have immediately acted if he saw such a person act like that near Morena’s office, let alone his boutique. Naturally, he didn’t this time, and it wasn’t because he changed his nature or felt weak, it was just his experience not wanting him to simply go ahead and cause a ruckus for no reason.
However, hearing all of this, now… there was a reason.
“For how long has this happened?” Fox asked her, but Fabiola only looked down with upturned eyes and a wrinkled forehead. Fox pressed on, understanding but stern, “Fabiola.”
“They have come twice before in these past 3 weeks. At first, a group of suspicious people came and bought nothing after taking sneaky photos of our displayed pieces, which they refused to let us delete, even cursing quite threateningly. They asked us about the shop’s monthly salary and wouldn’t leave until told so…” Fabiola lowered her head.
But she lifted it soon after, clearly putting her weight on the security Fox brought to her. “The second time, they said we would have to give out 10,000 credits per week to ‘be protected’. Pamela called me and I came here. I treated it like a small joke. Now you see, they demand 150 big ones.”
“You should have told me earlier.” Fox casually worded. Fabiola frowned, curious, and tilted her head. Fox added, “Now, I don’t have information to act right away. Mm, Fabiola.”
Being called out after saying those ambiguous words, Fabiola nodded and blinked, almost saluting like a shoulder. “Yes?”
“You keep the store open, and don’t worry about this filthy blackmailing. Pamela, keep the boutique running, and call me. I will take a leave from my ‘job’ to deal with this. I’ll be around in the next few days. If I tell you to do something, even if it means appearing begging, do so, alright?” Fox became active, showing eagerness. The girls nodded, feeling he was up to something, and hearing the news about yesterday… However, seeing his good mood, neither wanted to question him nor take his building momentum away.
With that, Fox chatted them a bit to directly know of the boutique’s matters after his absence in his detective assignation. Becoming a ‘senior’ detective ended up taking more than he thought.
Then, Fox went out. He had to ask a few things from Mena to build a few things for his upcoming ‘activities’. He usually doesn’t feel enthusiastic about sneaking and stealth, but now, there was some important work to do.
… Arriving at the HQ with a case in his right hand, Fox went in without a care. He wore the jacket and cap of the factory, but nothing else. Mena looked at him from afar, detecting him beforehand. Just as she was about to say something that seemed serious, Fox spouted, “7 days leave, back until the 11th month’s 1st day in Moonblue supercontinent. Also, can you grab me this week’s type AB materials?”
“…” Mena blinklessly stared at him before tapping her desk. Then, she looked at him, “Your materials are being sent to your mega hotel in 30 minutes… A week? Really? What had you wanting to free yourself from the District out of nowhere.”
Fox looked at her, noticing her eyes knew ‘something’, but clearly not about his pressing matter. Rather, a misunderstanding, perhaps. But he did not move to change her thoughts.
He shook his head with a soft blink before uttering, then leaving to check on something in a workshop, “It’s personal. I need this break. Nice seeing you, Mena. Thanks.”
Mena watched his back leave through the double door and through the small circular window. She couldn’t tell what was what, only worry and wish him to get his head and heart sorted.
Fox walked to a workshop, noncommittally nodding to the smirking and greeting agents like he was now a popular boy. He sat down and opened his case. There were only blueprints there. He used his WID to communicate with Teon before grabbing and studying them closely.
The theoretical part was finished. Now, all Fox required was to go ahead with it. Checking the time, Fox began working. He grabbed a few things from the Piya Sanctum District’s depository, paying for them individually, and began a road to success.
40 minutes later, Teon arrived with her well-donned uniform and some cool-stylized clothes above it, but she seemed pouty, maybe not finding whom she hoped she’d bump into. Fox thanked her humorlessly before continuing. Teon left, leaving Fox to work on his improved things hour after hour…
… 6 hours later, before light even peeked through clouds or from the horizon, Fox exited the workshop and went to the center. It was time to work, for personal work.
. . .
2 days went by, quick and smooth, but with impeding, incoming blitz.
Fox investigated the matter of the floor charge. He was only one person, so he could do little to nothing to ‘aid’ the whole country as a whole. Thus, he limited his area of activity; he chose the entire district comprising the capital’s center in this business sector, where his boutique was.
On the first day, Fox met with many situations that easily lifted his left eyebrow. While most business around the boutique’s block, which were mostly above decent, but not by much, were fine; any other business below ‘decent’ was targeted.
These weren’t awful businesses, they had neither lack of hygiene, quality, and service, but compared to those anyone hears of when they come to the capital state, they earned and looked ‘lesser’.
Those were the business that Fox saw being targeted. Furthermore, through passing by tall rooftops at the right time, he heard other such business that weren’t ‘visited’ in his investigation complain about it through the phone or some police called to investigate.
Fox even saw some national guard elements, who were seemingly responsible for dealing with organized crime like this, primarily. While the cops were like lazy and will-less authorities, the national guard promised their aid, but that it wouldn’t be easy. The reasons were simple.
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Some of the business owners complained that those the NG detained before returned and threatened them, harsher than ever. Moreover, some were beaten, a few half-killed in the spur. But the national guard had few things to say.
They started by telling the owners of the issue with the Supreme Court Justice. Even the lowest judges under a magistrate could stop the social activities of a state, denied by no one it seemed, let alone a minister who had much more power.
It was one thing that the criminals they caught were given freedom, but several times in a row? In just a few months, the NG grew tired of seeing it, too.
There was another thing. While those lesser businesses were targeted the most, some decent ones were, too. The NG would be much more proactive and compromising to them, securing their safety. As for the business above decent, none of them were targeted. That was a strangeness that was not coincidental, which Fox could easily spot.
His Blackflower Boutique must’ve been considered a decent one, but there was no such thing as a threat or warning, only a ‘friendly visit’ followed by money demands. This further helped Fox want to keep doing this, although it wasn’t like he would have reconsidered it anyway.
After investigating, realizing the organized crime group in ‘charge’ of this were actually expanding, now reaching their corners towards the line his boutique formed part of, and beyond, Fox had everything ready.
… In a workshop, early morning of the 10th month’s 4th week’s 3rd day. Fox sat cross-legged, sweating with focused and impassive polycoria eyes. He finished working on the last procedure of a thing, a bion, an improvement of the previously not-so good quality it had before.
Fox rose both hands after grabbing something from the side and elevated them to his face. They were his self-invented bions, the pivot and comet.
The pivot still had a pen structure, but it was no longer thick, able to make room for more to be carried and even held between one’s fingers. Instead of dark gray ropes, it had dark gray ribbons, with some repelling force and durability. The thinner ‘limbs’ as it is shot forth to deal with incoming projectiles were faster and could generate more force, while it can take ‘a few hits’ now and its functionality lasts longer.
The comet, the hidden arm-blade void bion, was still a metallic brown blade, but it went from a height of its steps below its rear of 2 to 2.1 centimeters, allowing for a longer, recoiled blade. It still had a double-edged, wide triangular tip. The blade remains 2 millimeters thick and 3 inches long, the latter only in repose. It also still uses dark gray thin treads to strap it around the arm. However, it no longer requires a plastic plaque on the forearm as a base to wield them.
The comets had become much more flexible due to this, and that was the biggest improvement, an actual evolution of the bion blade. It no longer required for a super pre-memorized set of movements to read one’s arm intricate movements.
Both had gone from the basic degree to the ‘good’ one. Meanwhile, Fox had learnt and even made some excellent bions, but with his own money. He’d have to learn a little more, buying more materials, before attempting a test for a better plan package.
Ready to go, Fox stood up from the ground and stretched, snapping many bones before grabbing a thick black box on the ground, filled with those good quality pivots and comets.
Fox’s polycoria eyes hardened impassively as he stepped out of the workshop…
… From morning to evening, the day went as usual. The district the boutique is in was peaceful, somewhat. There were a few people who barged into a few shops and came back out full of spirit, balls, and smugness. Later on, police came after a long wait and left quickly.
As darkness covered the streets, and the many lights of the capital city spread throughout everywhere, yet still not quite catching every dark corner on them, a few people walked, drugged and drunk.
Unbeknownst to them, a figure crouched, dangling from the wall like his dimensional direction was wholly different to theirs. The figure looked at them talk.
“Hahaha, she was good though. I’ll grab her chichis next week. I’ll even use 100 credits to help her up, bwahaha!” - “Bring me, too. We’ll gladly help her. I’m sure she needs this much help with her debts, ey?” - “Hahahaha!” - “As a woman, I support this! Bring me, too!”
‘Crude.’ Fox thought, before letting his body fall. He was 17 meters up, unseen by the group walking on the streets, with no cars driving anywhere nearby. As Fox’s body neared the ground, someone noticed, despite the light hitting their eyes from above. “Hey, what’s that?”
Fox soundlessly hit the sidewalk with his left foot, turning his body towards them before stepping on the building behind him with his right foot. Before they could turn their heads, and the one who spotted him realized a bulge of shadow was becoming person-sized, Fox arrived before them.
Pfsst, pfsst. Fox activated his blades and lunged them forwards before spinning a bit in the air, still dashing towards them. His feet hit a young man’s head, making a dent from his jaw to his forehead, his eye exploding. Another was hit on the right side of their stomach, unnaturally bending as their spine directly broke.
As this happened, Fox also spread his forearms to the side, rapidly swinging his comets as he passed in the middle of everyone. The first victim was a young woman with her red hair tied in a ponytail. Fox opened her skin from her chin to her collarbone in a straight line, drawing blood incessantly.
By the time Fox’s momentum disappeared, and his speed was engulfed with every attack of his, corpses dropped one after another, disarranged but lifeless or dying. No one could utter a word, either paralyzed or cut at the throat. Fox even improvised, cutting someone’s tongue while only sliding their cheeks with utmost expertise.
Step, step, step.
He didn’t have Red Blood’s painting this time, but he was painted red, alright. The corpses happened to fall near a spot of light from an ultramodern but lonely streetlight. Half fell on the edge of the light, illuminated. The other half in the dark, bleeding just as good as the other half.
As their mass murderer walked away, the silent night continued flowing.
… The next morning, the people woke up to see many SPD vehicles and forensics heatedly debating in the first hours of the morning to welcome light. Some had come out earlier, but they either didn’t see a horrible scene, too focused in getting to work, or it was cleaned beforehand. Few routes remained blocked, allowing a more or less flowing traffic to continue as usual.
However, in the hideout of unknown criminal organization ‘officials’, many people converged, with only a tiny portion feeling worried. From the hundreds that could move about in this district, well-funded, a few were scared to death, trembling even now.
“Red?” In the hideout, a middle-aged man with clear skin, no longer sweating with the natural coldness embracing Lýmoca nowadays, nodded to the shivering few in his office.
“We already did, they are either envenomed or traumatized. Medicine for that is too good for ‘this’.” A person said lazily as he stared at the trembling ones with hostility. The man nodded, pacing around the small room beneath the ground, and asked after standing behind one of them who trembled the less.
“So, someone killed you?” The man asked. The trembling young man looked up at him. There was no more fear or apprehension that newcomers like them would have in their eyes when looking at him, only maddened fear. “It was so quick… w- we- w- we- we couldn’t do anything. They were down since the moment we heard weird things. I’m alive… because whoever does this… w- w- w- w- wants to hunt us. They don’t care about us.”
“Heng,” the man exclaimed before walking away. He looked at a few who walked to him and frowned, “It’s either the Lyclan or Guerramar Cartel. Has any of you seen anything?”
“No, but they, should we let them? I think they could have something to do with this. What do we do with them?” A person shook his head with the others and said, looking at the trembling ‘pups’ with a dark desire. The man in charge narrowed his eyes, bothered, and declared, “Do whatever you want. But only if you investigate for me whatever la chingada is happening out there.”
“Okay, we’ll do. I have good new ones. I may get info in a week. Make me a buffet when I return, and more girls this time, I want more.” The other person said, excited and smiling with thrill. The man looked at him and tsked, gesturing to the trembling newcomers, “Are you bargaining with me? Get the fuck out before I let them fucking kill you first.”
“Hahaha!” The person laughed as he left the room, looking back at the man the entire time. The laughter sounded 2 parts friendly, 2 parts hostile, and 6 parts challenging.
… The news came quickly after noon. The public wasn’t too keen on whatever was happening, thinking it was another organized crime’s incident where it affected a rich person walking or driving by, and all this atmosphere was to cover it up. If not rich, then definitely influential.
Naturally, the truth scared the living hell out of the people in the district. While the news spread to the entire capital fast, it reached the entire state of Proteros and Lýmoca’s nationwide media at night. More than a hundred men and women from the organized crime were massacred last night.
After scanning and revising, it was found out that at least half of them have been destined once or a few times for illegal floor charge, assault, and similar crimes violating another person’s humanity and dignity.
First, it was a shock. So many deaths in the course of a few hours while most slept, and this was after the exhaustive, quick and efficient research of the police forces and even the government. Of course, how could the government not intervene in something like this?
Then, there was joy. Criminals? Massacred? Vigilante’s style? Perfect! Who didn’t want that? Although there were some families, especially weak-hearted and timid mothers, who came out to the streets to cry after realizing why their children didn’t return in the morning this time, the celebrating side of the situation wasn’t affected.
But then, they realized. What if this was a sign? The beginning? Just the showoff moments of an incoming conflict that could put the capital city in a state of empty streets, ghost businesses, and desolate liveliness it used to have?
It has happened before, not in the capital, at least not in the last 72 years, but the last time it did was on Chtsté. That is where 2 of the most renown and dangerous OCs in the country faced off after an attempt of intervention of one in the other’s territory.
This wasn’t even that long ago, almost 3 years ago. Although civilians were hurt, they didn’t die. At least those who weren’t part of any OC. Those who were killed each other for 2 weeks, with the army only taking to the streets amidst the first week, killing more criminals, while having less than half a dozen casualties. In the end, almost 20 criminals were killed in those 2 weeks, with over 200 detained.
Would it happen here, too?
Naturally, since the civilians worried about this, the government would have taken this into consideration. Luis Heartez, the president, may have not announced it, but he met with his general secretary of defense to get things prepared in case something remotely dangerous for the capital city’s population happened.
And then… then, there was Fox. He stood atop a rooftop with a hoodie. He felt too artistic nowadays, so he kept the blood from yesterday… While blood doesn’t wash away blood, let alone the dark, crusty dried blood, they could add layer upon layer.
With the cold, it was even easier to have blood dry up while outside, even if it wasn’t snowing, or that cold, and mostly windy. Of course, only Fox could know that, as he wore the blood of his victims himself.
…