Editing HEAVY OBJECT:Volume9 Chapter 3 (section)

===Part 2===

Quenser and Heivia still had not been ordered back to the rest of the battalion.

That meant some kind of trouble was going to rise to the surface before long.

“This is what you call the Lost Angels way, Putana,” said Quenser as he grabbed one of the plastic shopping baskets stacked up at the supermarket entrance. “If we wanted to, we could have the Legitimacy Kingdom fleet send us more weapons and ammunition, but if we caused any trouble with those, we’d be announcing to the world that we’re from the Legitimacy Kingdom. When we don’t know what’s going to happen or where, it’s apparently best to keep a supply of handmade explosives to erase any clues we might leave behind.”

“I see. I don’t know much about explosives, but are they that easy to make, teacher?”

Heivia was not with them.

It seemed to be the way of the world to send that jack-of-all-trades out on odd jobs.

“Plastic explosives shouldn’t be that difficult. Basically, you just have to mix a stretchy rubber adhesive in with the explosive. The problem is the fuse.”

Quenser passed right by the perishables and moved to the spice corner.

“A fuse is needed to detonate a plastic explosive. It’s a delicate explosive, so static electricity can easily set it off. If an amateur carelessly mixes it all together with a juicer or mixer, they can blow their own face off. Switching the device on can be a fatal mistake.”

“Is it that difficult?”

“The ingredients are easy to get your hands on. You have to be careful mixing them together, but the main ingredient is this right here.”

Quenser grabbed a heavy bag from the shelf and tossed it into the basket.

“Sugar. Those disarmament treaties are completely useless.”

He grabbed a few more ingredients and the two of them made their way to the register.

After leaving the supermarket, Putana used a handgun to drive off some delinquents messing with the (stolen) motorcycle she and Quenser had been using.

“Oh, did Millia give you that as proof of her trust?”

They heard a siren from somewhere nearby, but it had nothing to do with them. If every attempted theft was reported, the police would never get anything done. It seemed something had happened at another store.

A '''Female Police Officer''' could be seen slipping out the back entrance.

“That’s just a costume,” said Putana.

“What?”

“She’s either the criminal or her job is to sneak into the scene of the crime and nab some evidence. She’s something like us.”

“Ugh… I was thinking her hips were a little too sexy for a public servant.”

“More importantly, teacher.”

“What is it now, Putana?”

“Why are we wearing swimsuits?”

“I’d be too scared to mix together an explosive in that run-down motel. I asked Millia and she told me to use a car repair workshop on the beach. But the best way to get the ingredients there is to hide them in a cooler and only fishers or beachgoers would be carrying a cooler around.”

“Then why not dress as fishers?”

“A young guy and girl? Going to the sunny beach to do nothing but fish!? If anyone thought that was realistic, they’d have to be pretty damn bookish!”

Putana had to hide her handgun on her person, so she wore a light jacket over her green bikini.

At any rate, Quenser stuffed the contents of the shopping bags into the cooler and placed the cooler’s strap over his shoulder. As always, Putana climbed on the motorcycle and he pressed up against her back.

They rode the motorcycle to the southeastern beach.

Quenser was used to riding without a helmet by now and he spoke to Putana while glancing over at the roadside restaurants.

“What do you want for lunch?”

“I feel like a spinach saag curry. It goes better with saffron rice than naan and if you add some melted margarine to the rice for flavor…”

“We had curry yesterday!”

“That was keema curry,” casually replied Putana while driving along a seaside road. “It’s completely different.”

Lost Angels was in top form as always. A quick glance around showed men with stockings over their heads running out of a bank.

“Ahh, ahh. They make it too obvious. That fat one’s the '''Jeweler''' who lost everything, isn’t it? He’s really hit rock bottom.”

“But, teacher, there’s a '''Worker''' up on that telephone pole.”

“Oh, I’ve seen him around, but I guess he’s in charge of cutting the power and camera lines.”

Nothing in that scene showed the slightest hint of interest in the World Clock or mankind’s lifespan. Of course, that made sense when they had no guarantee of their survival three minutes into the future.

They drove along a land bridge crossing a subway line running parallel to the road and finally reached the car repair workshop. The building looked like a collection of concrete and sheet metal. Putana drove the motorcycle inside after they opened the garage shutter.

A muscular man in a tank top and work pants awaited them.

“Millia’s already paid me and explained the situation. You can use whatever you want in here, but if you destroy anything, it’ll cost you extra.”

“Understood.”

“Should I run some random machinery to make a bunch of noise?”

“Our work isn’t that noisy. We’ll be quietly mixing some ingredients like someone enjoying some classical music, so you can keep the place quiet.”

Hearing that, the repair workshop workers all left.

Quenser climbed down from the motorcycle and spread the cooler’s contents out on a random work bench.

He put on some special static-resistant gloves and used cups and scales to measure out the ingredients he placed in a mortar. He then carefully mixed them together.

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Putana seemed to not have anything to do.

“Teacher.”

“If you’re feeling a sneeze coming on, hold it in. If I drop this on the floor, we’ll be blown to pieces.”

“That’s perfect. How about we have an important talk?”

He heard a metallic sound.

Putana Highball stood right in front of him and she was aiming a handgun at his chest from three meters away.

It was close range but still too far to reach out and grab the weapon.

Also, his hands were full of a delicate explosive mixture.

“Hey, Putana… This is a joke, right?”

“I was waiting for this moment,” she answered in a monotone voice.

When he heard that, an unpleasant sweat finally started pouring from Quenser’s entire body.

“Wait. Wait, Putana! There’s no place for you in the Faith Organization anymore! If you want the Legitimacy Kingdom to protect you, then you can’t do this!”

“That doesn’t matter!!”

Quenser stiffened at her explosive shout.

The mortar in his hands shook a bit.

“Do you even understand? That Object being stripped bare on the ocean is my Sarasvati!! That was a part of me! It was my life! And it is being dismantled on my own advice! Do you have any idea how humiliating that is!?”

Quenser had trouble breathing.

He looked up to heaven and confirmed that the bastard known as god was not going to help out a liar like him. Only then did he open his mouth again.

“Shooting me won’t bring the Collective Farming back.”

“I already told you. That doesn’t matter. My Sarasvati is being tormented without even being allowed to die and the cause of it all is standing right in front of me. What’s wrong with wanting to at least take his head as an offering?”

Putana’s hand trembled as it held the gun.

It may have been more than just anger. She may not have actually decided where she would go or what she would do after shooting Quenser.

“I had my life taken from me. Even if I’m going to come to an agreement with the Legitimacy Kingdom, I have to settle this first.”

“…”

“If I kill you, I might be punished for it. But I’m a former Elite and I have plenty of classified Faith Organization information, while you’re just a student. Isn’t it obvious which one the Legitimacy Kingdom will choose? …Even if I kill you, I can work out an agreement, so I’m going to do it.”

“You don’t actually believe that, do you? If so, you would have pulled out your gun in the motel. Whatever you might say, you felt deep down that it would be too dangerous to act when you weren’t away from our home base.”

“Then what about you? Can you give me a single reason why I shouldn’t kill you?”

She was serious. It was not clear if her plans were as solid as she believed they were, but she was at least prepared to pull the trigger.

Once he realized that, the puny student named Quenser cast aside his own hesitation.

He threw the highly flammable mortar to the ground.

The bursting sound was much louder than a firecracker and whitish smoke filled the entire room.

“!?”

Putana flinched back and the ringing in her ears kept her from hearing the footsteps.

But even through the smokescreen she accurately sensed the gaze leaving her.

“Teacher!! Dammit!!”

With her gun in hand, she frantically ran forward through the white smoke, but Quenser was nowhere to be found in the repair workshop. He must have run outside.

Fortunately, he would be on foot while she had her motorcycle. But when she looked over, she found a screwdriver stabbed into the off-road motorcycle’s back tire.

(He sure is thorough!!)

She clicked her tongue and slipped outside through the shutter.

She saw some distinctive footprints in the fine sand of the beach next to the asphalt road. They had been made by the sandals Quenser was wearing.

She ran around the repair workshop searching for him.

She found someone in the gap between two buildings, but it was not Quenser. They looked like a '''Woman in a Dress''', but then they tossed aside a long-haired wig. Based on the long case for a pool set leaning against the wall nearby, he(?) was probably a '''Sniper'''.

Putana crossed the land bridge.

She heard the clattering of a train on the subway below.

(Strange. He can’t drive a car or a motorcycle. He shouldn’t be able to run that far on foot, so where did he go?)

“Putana!!”

She heard a sudden shout from behind.

She turned quickly around and saw her target had jumped down below the land bridge. Or more accurately, he had jumped onto the roof of the train.

He placed his hands around his mouth like a megaphone and shouted to her.

“There’s a lot I want to talk about, but it’ll have to wait until we’re back in the usual room!!”

“Why you…!!”

By the time she climbed up onto the guardrail and tried to aim her handgun down, gazes of intense anger surrounded her.

Her caution shifted her attention from her target to her surroundings. The car repair workshop’s workers were surrounding the swimsuit girl.

The muscular man in a tank top spoke in a deep voice.

“I told you up front that destroying the equipment would cost extra, didn’t I? Let’s have a chat back in the office.”

Quenser had planned it all.

Putana Highball stuck the handgun back in her jacket’s pocket, clicked her tongue quietly, and still gave a wordless scream to release her excess anger.