Dawn Office Rep: Gregor's Story

With every breath I took, the acrid air around me burned my throat.

Cries of pain, sorrow, and fear rang out from every direction, and other indescribable horrors overwhelmed my senses as the thick blanket of smoke squeezed the oxygen out of the air.

The smoke permeated everything - even in fields of battle packed full with the spray of blood and scattering shrapnel, clashing blades and bullets whizzing past comrades and enemies both, the miasma found the cracks to suffuse.

... We used to call its stench the "scent of humans."

Ooh, here comes my daily fix!

Ah, let me set it on your table, Master... It's hot - you don't want to burn yourself.

Listen, Kid. There's really no need to baby me like that.

Years have passed since that smoke left its final mark on my memory, and now I'm leading a small Fixer Office where I nurture and train pupils of my own.

I wonder what my younger self would think if he saw me as I am now.

Could he ever have imagined this kind of life?

The kind of prosaic, peaceful life where I get to sit in a cool, air-conditioned room and sip on a pleasantly warm cup of ssanghwa-cha my pupil brewed?

He has a point, Sinclair. Perhaps it would be best for your career prospects if you redirected the focus of your endeavors onto tasks that more befit the responsibilities of a Fixer, rather than that of a tea-brewer.

Brewing ssanghwa-cha can't possibly be so important a task that you would spend the time every morning to carefully analyze your superior's mood and choose which toppings would suit his palate.

W-well... Still, I think I'm pretty good at it, so...

Could he have imagined the kind of sedate life where I get to enjoy a hearty chuckle every now and then, watching the shenanigans unfold as my pupils passive-aggressively throw jabs at one another about what are, ultimately, frivolities?

.......

No, how could he?

After all, how could he lose himself daydreaming when even a split second of distraction would mean certain death?

Oh yeah, you just got back from that contract, didn't you? The Urban Legend-class request...

Yes, I have completed the request regarding the "Thousand Needles."

Wow, you're impressive... Solving an Urban Legend-class request all on your own...?

The target posed an increasingly substantial threat as it mounted a more aggressive resistance toward the end, but - Ah.

I had a question regarding the contract, Herr Gregor.

*sip* ... Ah, for me? What is it?

As the name "Thousand Needles" would suggest, I was presented with ample opportunities to collect and examine some black needles at the scene.

... Bearing those symbols, I presume?

Correct. Symbols with a yellow glow, to be precise. Its patterns were analyzed next to symbols used by various Workshops that mark their output, but no exact match was identified.

Hmm. Imitating Stigma's product branding's all the rage these days. There's been an uptick in Workshops marking their products... Leaving their symbols in the aftermath of a battle...

Got me worried for a sec - maybe they'd become so money-grubbing that they started sponsoring all kinds of maniacs out there... But with this, that's one load off my mind.

Though it isn't as bad as it used to be, the City is losing what warmth it had by the hour, the proverbial winter starting to set in its denizens lately.

I like to think I've seen my fair share of the worst the City had to offer, but day after day, the increasingly bizarre and out-there incidents find their way to shake and shock me anew. If there was any warmth at all, its temperature was rapidly dropping to what could be described as nothing else but "frigid."

Still, the optimist in me says it's not all bad, that we, as a collective, haven't quite reached the line we mustn't cross... and I find solace in that.

Then again, you never know. Maybe there are folks out there, people already too far gone and have crossed the line and then some, but...

... as long as they didn't make it my business by invading this cozy little place I've got with my students, I don't think I want to concern myself with those things too much.

Uh, sponsorships...? I didn't know Workshops did that.

... You did not? Hm, odd. Herr Gregor is the proverbial poster child of Workshop-sponsored Fixers.

Whaaat?!

Can't blame Sinclair for not knowing. It's not like I have a habit of harping on about old times...

I posit the argument that any sentence that begins with "back in my day" that you are so fond of counts toward the conventional definition of "harping on about old times."

Ahem...

In that case, could you tell us a little bit about your past?

I know you're a very prestigious Fixer, Master, but I never had the opportunity to hear about what exactly you've done to earn that reputation.

Hmm...

Yeah. Maybe the stories of those days... are better shared in a lighthearted conversation, just something to be mentioned in passing.

Enough... time has passed now, anyway.

I've been using Stigma Workshop weapons throughout my career, from the day I first started working in this business. Now, if you ask whether they were the best Workshop weapons among all the ones I've browsed, trying to find a weapon that'll keep me company through thick and thin... No, they weren't exactly all that.

Uhm... Then why did you decide to go with a Stigma Workshop weapon, Master?

Well, I could say there was the matter of my thin, hungry wallet... But more importantly, big-name Workshops out there don't let anybody walk right in just because they come knocking on their doors. Gotta keep your clientele more "distinguished," if you know what I mean.

In other words, more well-known Workshops weren't all that eager to take a commission from some no-name Grade 9 Fixer, even if he had the coin for it - which he didn't.

Fortunately for me, Stigma Workshop was a relative unknown back in the day with a more niche audience... which meant that they had no qualms letting a greenhorn like me purchase a decently high-quality weapon.

Anyway, while the partnership was coincidental, it ended up being a win-win. I kept racking up successful contracts, and Stigma Workshop reaped the subsequent renown and a new swath of customers...

... And as a token of gratitude, they were generous enough to offer personalized upgrades to my weapon...

Aha! So that's why all of our weapons are...

You catch on quick, Kid! It's all thanks to my connections that Stigma Workshop's allowed a young chickling like yourself to wield one of their quality weapons.

... It seems that our Office Rep rarely tires of self-aggrandizing behavior... Though one cannot deny the veracity of that claim.

Anyhoo~ They really saved my bacon more than a few times in the Smoke War.

The Smoke War...

It's the same with any war, I'm sure, but for boots-on-the-ground footsoldiers, survival was the only thing that mattered.

The most surefire way to guarantee survival would've been to stay as far away as I could from the war, but... that wasn't an option for Nest-born Fixers like myself.

Some battlefields were so dire that even Association Fixers had to struggle through fight after fight with broken, malfunctioning weapons and worn-down outfits.

But because I was sponsored by Stigma Workshop, every time my sword needed maintenance, they provided it free of charge and even threw in a series of upgrades.

Back then, too...

I was a part of a detachment - perhaps a rather too grand a name for what really was a hastily assembled group of Fixers with even the remotest preparations against the damage of fire and heat in the War.

We were a bunch of ragtag soldiers at best, but I won't deny that there was an air of unwarranted confidence among us, given that all we needed to do was burn up a pair of wings.

But that day, on that hill...

We ain't falling back here! Push the line forward!

Infestation zone cleared! Regroup and rendezvous with the Section Director and -

Calling all recruited Office Fixers, we can do this together! Our right flame wall needs reinforcement!

A monstrosity of evasive abilities bordering on precognition and offensive capabilities that, with a single hit, could all but guarantee instant death.

That was one of the decisive weapons of G Corp., and Liu Association was selected specifically to handle it.

I was probably stronger than each individual Liu Fixer, but...

One set of wings reduced to ashes! Just one more push, and -

Don't let your guard down, Team. Stay alert.

Huh, looks like we might actually have a chance.

... there's really no point in measuring individual merit when it comes to Liu Fixers.

The moment an all-out battle began, they came together with combined fluidity not unlike that of a single organism - a dragon, charging through the enemy forces under the Section Director's command...

and it wasn't long before their flames dominated the entire battlefield.

For a moment, the situation seemed so favorable that I began to hope we might defeat this foe without needing reinforcements...

... and with how things looked, this enemy was definitely on its back foot - we would be able to seize victory with just a little more effort.

Enemy altitude's down, but velocity remains constant.

Its erratic movements haven't slowed at all either, Director. Goddamn bug...

Its airborne vertical maneuverability won't be diminished much, even if we somehow manage to burn all its wings.

... I see. The point of this operation was to prevent high-speed airborne escape.

But whatever possible scenario we could come up with based on common sense...

... did not apply to a decisive weapon of a Wing.

This is the famous flame of Liu?

Slower than I imagined.

The raging, seemingly impenetrable wall of fire flickered as it danced, inadvertently revealing the most minuscule of openings - and the monster's eyes caught sight of two Liu Fixers.

And in the blink of an eye, they were gone.

Before most of the Fixers could even comprehend what had happened,

I ran desperately to block the beginnings of a growing rupture in the formation...

... Hey! It's right above you! Swing up!

Gah?!

You swung, but with a... curious delay. Was he your favorite?

You... You fuck!

Director, don't let that monster get to you! Calm yourself and re - Aagh!

Once a crack begins to split open, it only grows into a rift.

Without moving as one in organic, fluid motion, the flames will scatter into mere cinders - no longer merged as a flame dragon.

The monster turned the tide, taking cover behind the fire and heat haze that obscured not only its vision, but ours too. Fixers of mediocre ability, scattered across the battlefield, served only as hostages or meat shields for the monstrosity.

Before we could even complete our initial goal of burning its wings...

Haha...

G Corp. bastards... Just what the hell... have you created...?

Director!!!

... the Lord of Flies descended upon the dragon's head and crushed it to a pulp.

Our forces were minutes away from complete annihilation. I had to do something - so I ran up to the front of the line and rallied the troops.

Regroup here, to me!

You know who I am! We even had a quick meet-and-greet, remember?!

All of you are now under my command! Focus entirely on providing me support, and I swear I'll burn that fucking vermin's remaining wings to ash!

... You're not our Section Director. We work with him best. I doubt you can fill his boots.

Maybe, but you, me - we're not exactly flush with options, are we?

No, guess not.

... Fine, we'll march with you. Lead us.

The world was on fire, and we were trapped in a flaming cage.

The sky above was nothing but pitch-black darkness. Smoke from fires and smoke that smelled of humans mingled, creating a horrible, crimson eye of a noxious storm I could hardly describe in any fitting words.

But I was the leader on the hill now. And so, I imitated the dragon's head to the best of my abilities.

I may not have been the guy to fill the Section Director's boots, and I was only flying by the seat of my pants - but by having a small army of Fixers following my flow and releasing bursts of flame at just the right moments, my firepower grew twice as powerful.

I alone blazed in the glow of the falling sun amidst the burning field of the infestation zone.

With the Liu Fixers behind me, I felt like I could measure up pretty well against even the legendary Vermilion Cross himself, but...

Hnnnh...!

But the bodies kept piling and piling.

Past a certain level, simple numerics like how many augmentations you have or what grade your gear is don't decide the outcome.

This is where the other, previously neglected factors come into play - their training routine, the kinds of effort they've put into them,

the matchup between fighters, the battlefield, and the circumstances that might or might not give you an edge.

We lasted pretty long for a sunset, didn't we? We kept on fighting even in this pitch-black night...

Eventually, I was the only one standing against that monstrosity of a foe.

The Lord of Flies did not appear even remotely winded, as though he were drawing from an infinite pool of energy.

The situation seemed rather hopeless, but I was young at the time. I still had that youthful streak of rebelliousness burning somewhere within me then...

... Because I wasn't ready to sit down and let death take me.

So I gathered whatever strength I had left in me - all the muscle memory, all the training I've done up to that moment - and held it all in my hand.

... Hey, Fly bud. I don't know if you've been keeping track of the time, but...

The sun'll be peeking over the horizon soon. Just look at how the faintest blue is starting to encroach into the black night...

... heralding the crack of dawn.

The heated blade draws a beautiful pattern as it cleaves through space before me under the distant sky.

But the reach of my blade is too short to strike the monster.

It evades to the side with ease, and regurgitates a stream of corrosive fluid...

... And it lands right on my sword arm, melting it, eating through flesh and bone.

You know what they say... That it's darkest before the dawn.

But it's pretty bright out here now, isn't it?

I could feel its fluid spreading, eating away at my torso, from shoulder to hip.

But at the same time, so does the space my purest resolve and sword has rent through, its sundered fabric melting away as though by flame...

... and the fly's wings that were touching the very tip of my blade's arc fall apart, its sliced segments melting away.

Now that, I didn't see coming...

But what will you do now? It seems you are now out of options.

I didn't quite imagine it happening like this, but... at least they made it in time for the sunrise.

Say hello to my reinforcement... and your death.

...!

... Weakling.

Though the battle was fierce, all we managed to do at the end of the day was cut off its means of escape.

And the "reinforcement" Command decided to send out was but a single combatant. A single combatant to face this insurmountable foe who was still armed with unpredictable movements and a seemingly bottomless well of stamina.

I'd be lying if I said the realization didn't hit me with a wave of disappointment and a profound sense of futility...

Hey.

Don'tcha know who I am?

... but nobody who's fought even a single skirmish in this battlefront wouldn't recognize the woman who just marched up to the battlefield with a trail of cigar smoke billowing in the wind.

She's the same person who survived the brutal gauntlet of duel after duel that mercilessly cut down a number of promising futures - namely, that of the Grade 1 Fixer who was a popular candidate for the title of a Color Fixer, the rising right-hand of a Sottocapo, and others whose prospects were just as golden -

- and emerged victorious one battle after another. Another monster of another nature.

... 'Course I do. I've seen the way you fight.

After leaving everything in her hands, I returned to our encampment in the backlines and had my injuries treated.

And surrounded by the roaring cheer of spectators, I got to watch a recording of her battle against the Lord of Flies, the footage slowed down by several dozen times - the only way the video could've captured the way the two combatants sped and zoomed around each other.

In that footage, it seemed as though the "reinforcement" managed to behead the Lord of Flies, killing it instantly before it even realized it was dying.

As it turns out, if you kill the Lord of Flies before it even registers its own death, it won't have the chance to spawn the Maggot Prince.

It was a shame that so much of the work we did to prepare to counter the Maggot Prince went to waste, but...

... thanks to the Stigma Workshop's symbol seared on the back of the Lord of Flies, and with the witness reports from Liu Fixers who managed to survive the massacre, they recognized me as a major contributor to the success of that operation.

... regor.

... Herr Gregor?

... Ah, sorry. Must've gotten lost reminiscing... Haha.

Anyways... Apparently, burning the monster's wings ended up being one helluva promotion for Stigma Workshop.

You fellas better learn to appreciate me, because I'm the only reason they're still offering weapons sponsorship to our Office even in my semi-retirement. Not to mention how the connections I made then got us the position of the Liu Association's affiliate Office.

Whoa... You really are amazing, Master...!

Amazing? C'mon... I'm just a washed-up Fixer with a broken body that never fully healed.

Damages caused by the Lord of Flies' extremely corrosive fluid would have been difficult to recover from, even with a K Corp. ampule of a fairly high purity. It is likely that his nerves failed to fully regenerate.

Yeah, guess so... Still, it's all thanks to that one ampule I got for "outstanding valor" that I'm still alive and kicking after all this time. Remember, those ampules were even rarer back in my day.

Wow... Huh, kinda weird that the lady who slayed the decisive weapon isn't in the news at all nowadays, though.

Haven't heard much about her myself in a long while... She sure didn't seem the type to get herself killed unceremoniously, too. Well, she's probably enjoying herself in a comfy seat, lording over peons like us.

Anyways... How's that for "harping on about old times"? Had enough yet?

I throw a lighthearted jab as I pick up a piece of paper that's been on my desk for a while today, related to our next Contract.

Is that... the object that's had the Fixer industry abuzz lately?

You got that right. This is what our next contract'll be about... They said my Zwei alum's death is connected to this contract, too.

Oh no... I'm sorry for your loss, Master. I can't imagine what you're going through.

My heart's unscathed, Kid. I was never fond of that fella.

The question is... have you heard anything about this object, Sinclair?

Something they call the Library's Invitation.