Murder and robbery sounded like something bandits would do.
In reality, though, the major conglomerates did plenty of that behind closed doors... their methods were simply more sophisticated and discreet.
Capital had far nastier ways of plundering people than outright robbery.
Of course, they did not mind reverting to the most primitive methods to achieve their goals.
The only real headache was the reckoning that would come afterward from the two conglomerates.
Neither the Levi Conglomerate nor the Nathen Conglomerate was a pushover.
Jonas had to figure out in advance how to deal with retaliation from both conglomerates.
-Beep, beep.
Just as Jonas sank into thought, the Communicator in the upper-right corner suddenly chimed. He glanced over and saw that the caller was none other than Silka Bond.
Jonas paused, then his eyes suddenly lit up as though something had occurred to him.
Without hesitation, he answered the Communicator.
A moment later, Sirka's slightly embarrassed voice came through the Communicator.
"Mr. Jonas? This is Sirka."
"Oh, what can I do for you, Mr. Sirka?" Jonas asked with a hint of a smile.
"There seems to be a slight problem with the five million credit points we discussed."
After a moment's hesitation, Sirka decided to tell the truth.
"The loan from the Central Bank has been delayed by half a month..."
"So you can't come up with five million credit points within the agreed deadline, Mr. Sirka?"
Jonas's words made Sirka uneasy. A moment later, he heard Jonas continue.
"I'm sorry, but if you can't meet my requirements, Mr. Sirka, we may need to reassess our partnership."
Sirka grew anxious. "It's only half a month..."
Before he could finish, Jonas cut him off.
"You should know very well that I have no shortage of potential partners, Mr. Sirka."
The implication made Sirka's heart sink. If Jonas could give him enough of a competitive edge to fight for the position of the Bond Conglomerate's sole heir, he could naturally give someone else the same advantage.
Anxiety began to grip him. He gritted his teeth and was just about to speak when Jonas continued.
"Of course, if you truly want to work with the Wetting Conglomerate, Mr. Sirka, perhaps you could first show us your sincerity."
Sirka paused at those words, then realized Jonas was giving him a chance. He drew a deep breath and asked:
"How, for example?"
"The Bond Conglomerate's Latest-Generation Tactical Suit... you should know that weapons development is no simple task, Mr. Sirka. Our research requires plenty of reference material, too, and the Wetting Conglomerate can't provide everything on its own," Jonas said slowly.
Sirka could not help frowning at that, instinctively moving to refuse.
"I can't hand over the research and development data. That's the Bond Conglomerate's core data..."
Before he could finish, Jonas shook his head and said:
"You misunderstand, Mr. Sirka. We don't need the research and development data, just ten finished suits. After all, we only want to learn from your design philosophy."
Jonas patiently coaxed him, leaving Sirka wavering.
Without the encryption key, there was no way Jonas could decode the research and development data from the finished products.
Seen that way, ten finished suits were not an unacceptable price. With his authority, requisitioning ten tactical suits would be easy.
After a moment's hesitation, he agreed.
"All right. I'll have someone deliver them to you shortly."
Then he followed up with another question.
"About our partnership...?"
Jonas smiled, completely changing his tune.
"Naturally, there's no problem. It's only a fifteen-day delay. That can hardly affect our friendship, can it?"
-Friendship, my ass. That wasn't what you said a moment ago.
Sirka could not help grumbling inwardly at those words, though he let none of it show on his face.
At that moment, Mr. Sirka had no idea how badly this so-called "friendship" would screw him over in the future.
He merely breathed a sigh of relief and said:
"Of course. May our friendship endure."
Stertel District.
The sky was clear, the moon bright, and the stars sparse.
The night breeze carried an unsettling chill. In truth, dark, windy nights did tend to invite trouble.
[Madfire Gang]-the very mention of that name filled the street gangs of the lower district with bitter hatred.
It was not because the gang had seized much territory, but because its methods were far too brazen. In the mere two years since its founding, it had trampled on the interests of nearly thirty gangs, large and small, specializing in the conglomerates' dirty work.
Rather than a gang, it was more like a band of mercenaries who would do anything for money.
But its members were all nasty pieces of work. Even after they had offended so many gangs, few dared to come looking for trouble.
Over time, their reputation spread, and more and more conglomerates hired them.
The Levi Conglomerate was one of them, and the gang was lying in ambush here tonight precisely to carry out its commission.
"Boss, when do we move?"
Lying in the shadows, a young man with a mohawk addressed the middle-aged man beside him.
After a moment's silence, the middle-aged man looked at the convoy nearby and said:
"We move when they officially make the handoff."
"Heh, these conglomerate dogs sure are cautious. We've been camped out here for two days, and they only just showed up."
The young man with the mohawk scoffed. The middle-aged man frowned and was about to speak when a flash of fire and an explosion nearby cut him off.
A blast wave swept outward, and the nearby crowd instantly erupted into chaos as gunfire rang out without pause.
The middle-aged man's mind went blank for a moment. Then he quickly recovered and shouted behind him:
"Who the fuck told you to move now?!"
Silence met him from behind. Clearly, they had yet to recover from the sudden turn of events.
Then the man with the mohawk beside him swallowed and spoke in a trembling voice.
"Boss, our ambush team is under attack."
The middle-aged man's pupils contracted. "How many attackers? What equipment do they have?"
His first thought was that their intel had been leaked. The Nathen Conglomerate had learned of their ambush in advance and sent people to surround and wipe them out.
But the reply shattered his assumption outright, leaving him stunned for a long while.
The man with the mohawk stared at the message sent back by their members under attack. Only after a long moment did he stammer:
"There's only one attacker. A woman. Her weapon is..."
As he spoke, he could not help swallowing again.
"...a Thermal Sword."
Before you continue