Clockwork Bride

Page 5

So this toxic acid rain naturally flows elsewhere, such as to slums or the wilderness outside the city. Thus, the poor of New Jersey spend most of their time in the rain, enduring the chilling Pacific westerly winds. In this kind of weather, unless you absolutely need to make a living, few people want to stay outdoors.

In a corner of the bay area, outside a dilapidated low-rent building, stood an orc. He was covered in synthetic leather, with broad shoulders that obscured his neck, and a tungsten alloy battle axe within arm's reach. Though he appeared savage and primitive, an arcane-enhanced melee weapon in the right hands was far more deadly than half-baked magic.

Overall, this street orc thug was big, green, and looked dangerous. Good, the doorman's primary job is to look scarier than the door next to him.

"Hey, Green Ghost!"

So Hayden yelled at him from five meters away.

"Is your dad home—oh, sorry, do you even have a dad?"

The orc hesitated for only half a second. But before he could reach for the battle axe, Hayden had already extended his right hand, releasing the magic stored in his index finger ring.

He brandished a pistol and shouted, "Bang!"

A blazing pillar of fire shot from his fingertips, striking the orc guard squarely in the nose. The flames exploded, the pain and impact throwing the orc off balance. Hayden seized the opportunity, his steel-toed boot striking the orc squarely in the groin. The guard collapsed to the ground; even the orc's rough hide couldn't withstand such a brutal attack.

On the other hand, Hayden was also secretly surprised. He had only eaten one breakfast prepared by Angela, and now he felt his body was completely different. He could feel his reactions had become more agile, his speed faster, and even the movement of kicking the orc's testicles was smoother than before. Was this the effect of those high-grade ingredients? Or was it a special power possessed by Angela?

Just to be on the safe side, Hayden bent down, grabbed the tungsten alloy battle axe, and struck the orc hard on the back of the head with the handle, knocking him unconscious. Only then did he toss the battle axe to Angela, who was following behind him.

"Does Master want me to use this to kill people?"

Angela asked curiously, effortlessly swinging the ten-kilogram battle axe.

"That works too. But the point is that this thing might sell for two hundred yuan."

After Hayden finished speaking, he deliberately looked up and stared at the invisible magic eye above the door.

"Little pig, little pig, let me in, I am the big bad wolf."

The door didn't open, of course it didn't. But Hayden knew that a large group of orcs were running around several rooms away, shouting and cursing. Hayden knew these orcs definitely recognized him. They thought it was safe behind the door and hoped to buy time, because they were terrified.

Because it was Hayden's job to break in and beat them to a pulp.

If you're in trouble and don't want to involve the police; if you want to find a shipment that has mysteriously disappeared, or if you want someone else's goods to disappear; if someone knows too much about you, someone has chosen the wrong company to work with, or someone has suddenly become useless to you; then you need to find a professional to help you.

You'll need an urban mercenary.

This is why Hayden chose to become a freelancer after graduating from university and resigning from his job.

This is true "freelancing." Someone like Hayden, who sometimes likes to pedantry, would proudly say that the etymology of the word "freelance" refers to the individual mercenaries in medieval Europe who were not part of mercenary groups. Therefore, being a mercenary can be considered the oldest form of "freelancing."

That being said, times have changed. Modern mercenaries are no longer the kind of people who wield greatswords against spearmen on plains battlefields or charge militias on horseback with lances. While traditional military contractors still exist, the place where modern people need mercenaries the most is in cities, and the type they need most is urban mercenaries who leave no trace of their employment and do not follow formal channels—completely anonymous.

They are people who accept illegal employment and race through the shadows of a metropolis rife with intrigue.

They belonged to no organization, and no power would protect them; they made a living solely through their skills and knowledge. That was incredibly free—a freedom that was frightening.

This is the profession Hayden chose.

That's right. Switching to a corporate life might make you live longer. But you should ask yourself honestly, what kind of life is that really?

After dealing with the orc guarding the door, Hayden re-examined the door before him. It was thick and heavy, reinforced with blast and anti-magic measures, and equipped with an aura detector that would only open when it detected a stable aura from a permitted orc. The orc who had spent a fortune installing this door must have thought himself incredibly clever. Even Hayden would have difficulty forcibly dismantling such a high-end door.

So Hayden sneered and used magic to blast open the concrete wall of the dilapidated apartment next to the door.

This tactic wouldn't harm the orcs on the other side of the wall. But Hayden still wanted to do it, since you only have one chance to make a first impression.

"confringo!"

After the wall was blown open, Hayden pointed into the room and chanted a second incantation. Magic struck the wall like cannonballs, instantly filling the entire house with sharp, minute explosions and shattered glass dust. One after another, emaciated figures scattered and fled throughout the room.

These spells were enough to temporarily pull each addict back to reality. They screamed and shrieked, scrambling for cover or hiding frantically under tables. They were all dressed in rags or cheap clothes, most with bloodshot eyes from addiction. Several had festering skin, many had cracked lips, and their nails were bitten and pockmarked. Six, eight, ten—all with blackened teeth, covered in filth, and emaciated from malnutrition.

"……oops?"

Seeing their expressions, Angela blinked.

"Master, are they using some kind of strange magic?"

Hayden nodded, his answer brief: "Dream chips. They're dreaming."

A fool, with a chip attached, sits there, eyes closed, tasting fake food, touching fake women, casting fake spells, experiencing a fake life, living in a dream—it's very unsafe.

The real world belongs only to those in high positions. But in dreams, you can be anyone. A CEO managing trillions of dollars in assets, an invincible warrior blasting enemies with all sorts of magic and equipment, a superstar admired by the whole world... So this thing is very addictive, and addiction makes people abandon reality 24 hours a day to chase dreams.

Dream chips are such dangerous things.

Even in this damned Federation of America where smoking is legal, the production, transportation, and sale of dream chips remain absolutely illegal. However, it is indeed a lucrative business.

"Hmm... this won't do. It's too clumsy; it can't be anything less than true happiness."

Angela stared at the panicked addicts, her emerald eyes adjusting several times as if trying to analyze something.

But the others present didn't care what the girl was talking to herself about.

Beside the table at the back of this dilapidated apartment, there was a particularly large, extremely green street beastman boss, half of whose body had been replaced with a mechanical prosthetic limb, staring angrily at the doorway and glaring at Hayden.

"Hayden! You're fucking dead—"

Another orc boy jumped up to welcome Hayden. His phone exploded, firing two lightning bolts toward Hayden's chest. So Hayden raised his hand, focusing his mind on the rune-encrusted bracelet on his left wrist, and activated a protective shield—but the lightning bolts failed to hit it.

Angela, who had been pondering something just a moment ago, suddenly stepped in front of Hayden and swung her battle axe with a speed that even a ninja's dynamic vision couldn't see clearly. Two lightning bolts were immediately deflected by Angela, hitting the orc boy's head and knocking him to the ground.

"good."

Hayden praised it aloud, but was secretly astonished. He could easily deflect such a low-quality spell released by a mobile app, but to bounce it so precisely back into someone's face? This wasn't an action movie.

"Master, please proceed as normal. I will help you solve other problems."

Angela swung the axe, seemingly unskilled with it. The way she swung it didn't look like she was wielding a weapon at all; it was more like she was weeding or chopping down a tree—but when another orc thug lunged at her with a large sword, she chopped off his arm with a single blow, as swiftly as chopping vegetables in a kitchen.

Taking advantage of the fact that the other orc thugs were stunned by Angela's ruthless chopping, Hayden shouted, "Listen! I'm just here to cause trouble! The rest of you don't need to die here! Anyone who wants to live, raise your hands and get out of here!"

So the poison insects who had spent all their money on dream chips immediately shoved and shoved their way over the orc thugs' corpses and fled. In the chaotic escape, some clever ones grabbed the orc's cell phone, another took his belt, and yet another ran off with the orc's boots.

Considering his current financial situation, Hayden was actually tempted to plunder these orc thugs, but... sigh, never mind. He didn't need to compete with people worse off than himself.

But seeing this scene, and seeing his men cowering in fear, the half-mechanized orc leader finally couldn't sit still any longer.

"Fuck you! Hayden! Who gave you permission to trespass on my territory?"

He cursed loudly, then popped a large knife out of his mechanical prosthetic arm and charged at the enemy like a whirlwind.

Hayden immediately reached out to aim, but Angela was even faster. She extended her slender arm from behind Hayden and tightly gripped the orc's swinging greatsword. With a snap, the sword twisted ninety degrees. Her hand, however, was unharmed.

"This? Huh? What!?"

The orc leader was stunned.

Keep in mind that Angela's mecha body is only 158 centimeters tall, with a fair complexion and delicate features. The clothing covering her slender limbs resembles a wedding dress. Yet, when a two-meter-tall, heavily armored man slashes at this girl, his own sword becomes useless?

Unfortunately, Angela wouldn't stand still. The machine started operating, and she began to exert force on the arm holding the greatsword. The orc leader hurriedly used his modified mechanical prosthetic arm to resist, but it felt as if he was futilely trying to stop a train slowly rolling towards him—his mechanical arm instead made creaking sounds, cracked open, and revealed broken wires.

In desperation, the orc leader turned his face toward Angela, and his mouth opened wide, revealing the muzzle of a gun that fires magic bullets!

This scene is so dramatic that it makes you wonder who the robot really is.

Angela didn't know any martial arts. So she stretched out her other hand and, very simply and without any fancy moves, shoved the orc leader in the face. Her movement was faster than a bullet being fired and stronger than a locomotive. With a dull thud, the orc leader, weighing over 400 pounds, was blasted away, crashing through the wall and getting stuck in a large hole at the other end of the next room.

A miraculous silence instantly filled the surroundings. The orc lads who had been following their leader and trying to charge over were all dumbfounded, at a loss for what to do.

"Hold!"

Finally, it was the orc leader, whose face was half-smashed, who broke the silence. The other half of his head was covered in sweat from fear.

"Hayden! Aren't you always working alone?! What kind of madman would transform himself like this and still act as your henchman?!"

005: The Butterfly Effect of the Mercenary Market

It seems this orc leader mistakes Angela for some kind of super-cyborg. That's not surprising. These days, some people replace their entire bodies, transferring their original memories, personality, and soul into a completely mechanical shell. In fact, mechanical modification is even cheaper than biological modification.

But Hayden was still very dissatisfied with the orc leader's statement.

"You can eat shit, but you shouldn't talk nonsense, Kakug. Who says girls can't transform themselves into beautiful women while also possessing military-grade golem-level combat power?"

He poked the orc leader's head with his index finger, his tone threatening.

It's worth noting that Angela's body was designed by Hayden himself.

If this orc leader knew that Angela was actually Hayden's clockwork wife, he would definitely yell, "Who would give their inflatable doll combat capabilities?! Are you out of your mind?! Aren't you afraid of snapping your penis?!"

But Hayden would definitely answer him like this—what kind of tech geek wouldn't equip their ideal robot wife with military-grade combat capabilities? Don't you understand that robot girls need more weapons and equipment?

This is why Angela, who is only 158 centimeters tall, can run faster than a cannonball, jump higher than a skyscraper, and is stronger than a locomotive. Her eyes can see fingerprints, her sensors can hear a few needles falling on the carpet in the next room, and her bodysuit and nano-skin have the strength of military combat armor.

So the cost of her materials alone used up Hayden's savings of ten years; they were definitely military-grade contraband.

Moreover, the above only describes the inherent attributes of Angela's clockwork mechanical body; her current AI is something even Hayden can't understand. Just thinking about all the trouble she caused last night to cook for Hayden, Hayden felt that Angela's combat power was probably unfathomable.

So the rest of the battle was naturally nothing to write home about. A few orc thugs charged in, howling, brandishing knives and axes, or firing cheap, low-quality combat magic from mobile apps. But no matter how many of the latter hit her, they couldn't hit Hayden, while the former... well, let's put it this way. After everything that hit her crumbled like tofu, and Angela chopped down three orc lads like vegetables, the rest all ran away in terror.

"Alright, Kakug, let's get straight to the point."

Hayden crouched down, squinting at the orc leader.

“We all know you sell dream chips here, and you’ve even taken over this building to rent rooms so customers have a place to rack their brains.”

"Go to hell!" But the orc immediately retorted in an even louder voice, "What business is it of yours if I buy a piece of land to do legitimate business?"

So Hayden sighed and resorted to something more efficient than words. He raised his fist and swung it, knocking away one of the orc chieftain's yellowed fangs. Hayden had never learned any martial arts, but even the thick bones of an orc couldn't withstand the adamantite plating on his gloves.

"It's amazing you dare call this a legitimate business. But it's true, your selling drugs and chips here has nothing to do with me. Everyone needs to escape reality occasionally. I'm causing you trouble now only because others are paying to cause you trouble—you shouldn't sell this stuff to kids, and you definitely shouldn't get kids addicted first and then have them sell chips for you at school."

The people who paid Hayden to "handle" this place were the parents of an ordinary child in a bay area.

They said their son was a good kid, but he'd gotten involved with a group of bad people. They said he was too young, but a bunch of orcs lent him money to try it out, got him addicted, and then forced him to pay outrageously high interest rates, compelling him to sell dream chips at school to pay it back. In the end, they had no choice but to run to the bar owned by the dwarf cowboy Todak and beg for help with their meager savings.

Because the owner of Todak is the most famous middleman in the Bay Area.

What is a middleman? A middleman is someone with extensive connections and connections who acts as a go-between between urban mercenaries and their clients. Theft, assassination, kidnapping, smuggling… any illegal activity you can imagine, a middleman might be able to help you make connections. Of course, they charge for these connections, because they are the street-level information brokers of this era. Middlemen are quite common throughout New Seattle.

Hayden asked Todak what kind of work he had been doing lately, and the middleman, Todak, told him that two street gangs were looking to hire bodyguards; he told Hayden that someone wanted to smuggle a batch of drugs overseas; he told Hayden that someone wanted a professional to subtly spread rumors about celebrities having affairs; and finally, Todak told Hayden that someone was hiring mercenaries to smash up a dream chip brothel.

So the job ended up in Hayden's hands, who was desperately needing money to pay his bills. He took it as soon as he heard what kind of mess it was.

So now the orc leader has been beaten to a pulp on the ground.

The orc's metallic half—arms, legs, and half his face—scrambled across the concrete, oozing hydraulic fluid and circulating fluid as much as blood. He had used the money he earned from selling dream chips to modify his body, making himself look fierce and powerful.

But now, he's nothing but a pile of scrap metal.

"The client requested that you understand why you died before you died, and also asked me to record what you looked like before you died. Now I have completed both."

Hayden flicked the magic eye on his collar with his index finger, then aimed it at the orc's head.

"Wait! I'm just a seller! I can tell you my supplier, just spare my life!"

The orc leader finally cried out in despair and begged for mercy.

Hayden was indeed a little curious about where he got these dream chips from.

"Just as you said, what does this have to do with me? So you'd better get going."

But he couldn't be bothered with such details; the task was already completed anyway.

Destructive magical energy emanated from his fingertips, cooking the orc chieftain's head from the inside out, like heating a hot dog in a microwave.

The other orc thugs had already scattered like birds and beasts.

So Hayden stretched and turned to Angela beside him.

"So, this is my usual job. How do you feel about it?"

he asked tentatively.

Angela only thought for half a second.

“Master, you need to repay a debt of 12,794 gold coins by the end of the month, but today’s work only yielded 1,500 gold coins. Based on our current work efficiency, we will not be able to raise enough funds by the end of the month.”

Then she said something that completely surprised Hayden.

"Why did you take this job? It's very inefficient."

I never expected her to ask such a question.

Hayden had originally intended to test the AI's attitude towards making money through killing, but her answer left him speechless.

Therefore, after much deliberation, he could only answer, "Because I want to!"

Money can't buy my happiness!

Angela nodded in understanding: "I see, I understand. After all, the master's wish is the most important. I agree that this is a reasonable judgment."