Editing HEAVY OBJECT:Volume9 Chapter 1 (section)

===Part 1===

It was designated a safe country belonging to the Faith Organization.

The Coromandel Region was a narrow strip of coast running north to south along the Indian Ocean and a military port and industrial city were located on the southernmost end.

“So I’m finally here in Lost Angels.”

Quenser Barbotage muttered to himself as he walked through the international airport’s lobby.

He wore a thin tropical shirt and shorts instead of his usual military uniform. He also wore pale sunglasses, but they looked frighteningly out of place on him. He pulled a cellphone from his sports bag and switched it on. He had been instructed to turn it off during takeoff and landing, but he could not relax with that signal cut off even momentarily.

He already had a few missed calls, so he called back one of them.

The call was to Heivia Winchell who was quickly becoming a close yet awful friend.

“I’m in the airport now. Aren’t you coming to pick me up?”

“Why would I head out into that godawful heat to see some filthy guy? I’m not taking a step outside this air conditioned room.”

“Wait, what about the beach? I thought Lost Angels was filled with girls whose horniness is barely contained in a swimsuit?”

“Yeah, but with all the money they’ve clearly spent on their skin, who knows what organization’s mistress they are. Are you sure you want to play a game of concentration where a single mistake means having your balls torn off?”

“Can I leave right this instant? You just killed any hope I had for this city.”

“Shut up, hail a taxi, and get your ass over to the hotel. It’s the Luxury Coast Hotel. …Well, there are five hotels with the exact same name, but you’ll get here if you tell the driver to turn off Muscat Street at the museum and head straight down Palm Street.”

Quenser hung up and left the airport building.

His entire body was immediately assaulted by a sweltering heat. It was enough to completely forget it was May, but the heat was not all that surprising since the city was farther south than Hawaii.

He could immediately tell how safe this city was by the old man with a cigar blatantly taking a bunch of crumple-up money from several women and by the masked men sneaking up behind the old man like it was all some kind of skit.

A group of teenage boys and girls – likely from a safe country somewhere – were being led around by a tour guide. Quenser glanced over at the '''School Trip Students''' who were boarding a tour bus as he hailed a taxi and asked the driver to take him to the Luxury Coast Hotel as instructed.

“That’ll be taking the long way around,” said the driver.

“That’s fine. Just follow that obvious route.”

The coolant must have been losing its effectiveness because the taxi’s air conditioner was barely working.

A small monitor was installed on the back of the front seat and it silently played an ad for health foods that looked like they would make you sick, a magic show where a passenger plane was made to disappear, and news about a civilian long-term space flight project that was cancelled due to energy problems, but Quenser was not watching any of it.

His eyes were focused outside the window.

The large street was lined with colorful flowers and palm trees and fine beach-like sand covered the ground. All of the buildings were polished and sparkling like a mirror, so it felt like being exposed to the concentrated fire of a giant solar cooker.

Before long, Quenser’s phone rang.

“What is it, Heivia? You can tell I’m having a bad day when I get more than one call that isn’t from a girl.”

“Just listen. I forgot to tell you something. Let me tell you about a certain ‘specialty’ found on Muscat Street. Try opening the window and holding out the phone. Hold on tight because you’ll be the one who suffers if you drop it.”

“What’s this about? I’m not innocent enough believe those rumors about a sixty kph wind feeling like a D-cup, you know?”

Quenser complained, but he did as he was told. And with the air conditioner barely working, he had no problem with opening the window.

Right at that moment, the taxi passed a black bulletproof car that had come to a brief stop.

The luxury car was protected by escort vehicles, its window was open, and an elderly man with silver-gray hair was leaning out.

As a disgustingly insincere show of charity, he may have been calling over a child wanting to wash his windows for some loose change.

But…

Quenser’s hand struck the top of his head.

Something glittered and a toupee that had to have cost five thousand euros flew through the air.

Quenser paled when he heard laughter coming from his phone.

“What did you just make me do!?”

He then heard angry yelling from behind the taxi. Screeching tires followed and the taxi driver sensibly began driving more dirtily to deal with the pursuit.

After ignoring around three traffic lights, the gun-toting group of vehicles was finally cut off by a stream of cars.

The driver did not turn around, but he did show Quenser his middle finger.

“Next time! That’ll cost extra!!”

The fact that he did not just say “never do that” seemed to be the Lost Angels style.

After losing their pursuers, the rattling taxi pulled up to Quenser’s destination. He handed over the set fare as well as a rather large tip, left the taxi, and gave an annoyed comment.

“How is this a ‘Luxury Coast Hotel’? It’s a run-down motel.”

It looked a lot like a two-story apartment building. The stairs and corridors were on the outside, so they would probably be soaking wet on a rainy day with any kind of wind. Simply having this place chosen for his lodgings was enough to know he was going to be making anything but bright and shining memories here.

He received a text with timing so perfect he felt he was being watched.

The subject was only a three-digit message and the body was blank.

He found the indicated room number and lightly knocked on the first-floor door.

The door opened to reveal a studio apartment sized room with all four walls packed full of military computers.

“Hurry up and get in. We don’t want what’s in here exposed for too long.”

Heivia Winchell wore a Hawaiian shirt and jeans instead of his usual military uniform. After closing the door, the room grew as dimly lit as a home theater. While doing what his awful friend said, Quenser looked around in annoyance.

“A cramped room, a ton of strange computers, and nothing but soldiers? And you have the air conditioner on full blast to combat all the stuffy heat? Have you ever heard of the World Clock, Heivia? It’s because of stuff like this that mankind’s lifespan is being worn away.”

“Oh, shut up. Don’t forget that those useless humanitarian commercials use up energy too. I’m not listening to people who think they’re the exception.”

“How many days ago was it that you were rejoicing over getting to do an actual analyst’s job for once? What have you been doing in this cave of junk?”

[[Image:HO_v09_019.jpg|thumb]]

“There are five people who outrank me in this cramped room. I’m sure you’ll figure out what’s going on by the time the introductions are over.”

However, no one was wearing their uniform, so none of them had rank insignia on their shoulders. The woman with short blonde hair seemed to be in charge, but she was wearing baggy cargo pants and a bikini top.

“You’re Battlefield Student Quenser Barbotage, I take it. I’m Millia Newburg. I’m from the intelligence division and my rank is lieutenant. Nice to meet you.”

“Eh? Oh, right.”

“This is a pretty nice city if you ignore how bullets fly around like an afternoon shower and no restaurant has anything but chicken burgers. Now, let’s discuss some details.”

Millia pressed a button on a projector remote and the image appeared on the roof for some reason.

“With all the machines in here, this was the only surface left.”

“Is this…a map of Lost Angels?”

“You can’t get by in this city just by glancing through the airport pamphlet, so I’ll give you some basic knowledge. First of all, Lost Angels is located on the southernmost point of the Indian subcontinent. It belongs to the Faith Organization and its classified as a safe country, but it’s actually one of the least safe places you can be and people die more easily than on your average battlefield.”

The map of the city was divided into four different colors.

There was no obvious pattern, so it looked like bizarre bright camouflage.

“This is the division of power in Lost Angels. You could call it the territories of the four organizations that are causing this city to rot. But don’t rely on it too much. They all make sure to deliver for your convenience. Assume you’ll have lead flying your way no matter where you are.”

The bikini officer pressed another button on the remote and a red circle surrounded one point on the map.

It was the cape at the far south of this southern city.

“This right here is what’s led to all this. The Faith Organization has a large facility for Object construction and maintenance here. Currently, the second generation Collective Farming is moored there. Subsidies are pouring in in the name of stimulating the region, so everyone’s lost the will to do any real work. Everyone just assumes they’ll have money, so they spend it all on gambling, prostitutes, and insane ‘rock candy’. But as soon as their own habits leave their wallets empty, they get mad and go on a rampage. This is a city of two million where everyone’s the kind of embarrassing adult who acts like a child throwing a tantrum. And all while holding handguns and odd-smelling grass.”

“…”

“Feeling blue? Well, you just have to understand that I wouldn’t exactly recommend going swimming here. More importantly, do you have the phone our division lent you? Let me see it.”

“Um, you mean this?”

Quenser held out the cheap cellphone he had been using and Millia tossed it to Heivia. Heivia stuck a broad belt-like cable into the phone’s bottom connector to link it to the computer.

“Here we go, here we go, here we go. This is just what we wanted! This is Mr. Mayonnaise’s final puzzle piece!!”

“Who?”

“A crazy old man who smothers everything from curry noodles to Mont Blanc in mayo. But he’s the boss of the Faith Organization’s state-run factory, so we needed his biometrics for our operation.”

“You mean like his fingerprint and blood?”

“He started getting cautious after we’d collected a few of them. We only needed his heartrate pattern, but that meant someone had to hold their nose and get right in the smelly gorilla’s face. Just as we were going to play rock-paper-scissors to see who had to do it, we heard you were on your way. So thanks, Quenser. You won’t get a bonus for your trouble, but we appreciate it.”

Quenser recalled passing by a luxury car with several escort vehicles on the taxi ride here. He had unintentionally knocked a man’s toupee off and nearly been killed.

He must have been told to take such a roundabout way to the hotel in order to match the man’s schedule.

“I need to punch you later, but can you really use this? Won’t they have noticed what we’re doing and be on their guard?”

“Using biometrics is secure, but you can’t change them once they’ve been stolen,” explained Heivia. “He’s probably sweating bullets right about now. He can’t recover from this mistake, so I doubt that stupid mayo man will report it to anyone. We just have to take care of our job while he’s figuring out how to save his own skin.”

Heivia was in a pretty good mood for being forced into this city, but that may have been because he had actually gotten an analyst’s job for once. Then again, he was supposed to be a “radar” analyst.

However, a cloud fell over Millia Newburg’s face.

“That means we just have to take care of ‘that’.”

Quenser changed his mind and decided Heivia’s good mood was due to the beautiful woman in a bikini.

“Oh, so we’re going to do this the Lost Angels way?” asked the idiot.

“Yes. Although, if the people here were as clever as a London stockbroker, I wouldn’t have to worry so much.”

It may have been a comfort issue, but she tugged on her bikini’s central string with her index finger.

“We have no choice. I’ll gather the data and put together a definite plan. You two…I know. Heivia, you take Quenser with you to show him around while getting us a meal before we have to head out next. Anything’s fine as long as it isn’t curry or chicken, so buy enough for everyone. That’s all.”