Chapter 23: Tracing the Path

Perhaps the world I inhabit is nothing but an online game or a mobile game—a world devised by some advanced being, with a degree of realism that is almost convincing. And I am but one of those game characters meant to provide amusement for the players.

Ah... what a terrible thought...

—Wang Luo

August 17, 1993, 8:40 a.m.

Bullfight Bar, 7.2 kilometers southeast of the rendezvous point

“Now, you can tell me everything you know, Mondy, my boy.”

Inside the chaotic wreckage of the bar, Captain Johnson—former deputy captain of the Internal Security Team Four, now captain of the Emergency Special Operations Team—had brought fifty plainclothesmen, all armed with submachine guns. They had swiftly subdued the small number (about a dozen) of gang underlings present, and then proceeded to have a cordial and friendly conversation with Mr. Mondy.

Mr. Mondy lodged a vehement protest against the damage inflicted upon his bar and offered some heartfelt greetings to Captain Johnson’s ancestors and the women in his family. However, when Captain Johnson’s patience wore thin, and after he expressed his keen curiosity about just how hard Mr. Mondy’s skull was—whether it could stop a bullet—this gang boss wisely chose to cooperate.

“He was wearing a clown mask,” Mondy stammered, dodging the muzzle prodding his head. “There were two of them, one with a clown mask. He claimed there was gold hidden in certain places. I didn’t take it seriously. But Will actually found some, and then they all went off hunting for gold.”

Mondy was furious that most of his men had abandoned the bar, leaving him defenseless during the attack. In fact, he was tempted to reveal that the clown’s main goal was to find the Test Subject, and the mention of gold was just a ruse. However, with a knee pressed into his back and a gun against his head—not to mention Johnson didn’t inquire further—he decided it was better not to mention it at all.

“The clown,” Johnson muttered. “Which clown?”

———

With the company’s backing, dealing with the gangs was manageable, but Captain Johnson still felt uncertain about his next steps.

After leaving the bar, he led his squad to take down several more groups of looting and rioting gang members—from various factions.

Witnessing the battered women, beaten children, and looted shops, the captain’s anger simmered. Driven by this fury, he swore an oath to himself: No matter who this clown really is, he must be caught!

Having dealt with the criminals in the surrounding streets, he hurried to the origin of the incident: Grizzly City’s First Television Station.

August 17, 1993, 11:10 a.m.

Grizzly City First Television Station, 12 North Street, 10.1 kilometers south of the rendezvous point

According to the police, the station had been attacked and forced to air those programs under duress from the criminals. But to the captain, that explanation seemed dubious.

Some of the footage hardly looked like something prepared in advance by criminals. Moreover, the programs even ran commercials in the middle. The host claimed this was a ploy by the criminals to mislead police. Even so, it was hard not to suspect that the station had deliberately collaborated with the clown for the sake of ratings.

Storming the station outright was inadvisable—it might not bother the criminals, but it would certainly be a problem for his own side.

So, he waited outside the entrance. When the host who’d twice shamelessly touted the gold on live TV emerged, two security guards politely brought him over. After another round of cordial and friendly communication, Captain Johnson learned that the station’s owner, Mr. Philip, had a habit of coming down for a stroll after lunch.

Still, it was a tricky situation.

“We sincerely request that you stop slandering and defaming us.”

“Slander? Defamation? I would never do such a thing! My media outlets are renowned for their integrity; it’s you who are slandering me! Are you trying to force the press to broadcast whatever you want?”

“Of course not,” Johnson motioned for his men to stand aside. “We’re only concerned for your safety, sir. You’re free not to cooperate. But when we catch that clown—when we get his testimony—what will the mayor, and especially the banks, think of you?”

“The clown... You mean the man who stormed my building with guns and henchmen and forced me to broadcast his program? If you catch him, that would be wonderful! I have plenty of scores to settle with him!”

There’s nothing I can do with this man. Seeing Philip’s attitude, the captain sighed inwardly.

“If you spot that criminal again, I’d appreciate it if you’d let us know,” Johnson’s tone was full of caution and respect. “You see, I’m just a humble security officer. The company pays me decently. I wouldn’t want to get fired at thirty, forced to take some pitiful severance and end up as a garage guard, scraping by on a few hundred a month—not enough even for my child’s tuition. And these friends of mine here—if someone pushes us all out of work...”

“What are you implying? Are you accusing me of colluding with the clown, of getting you all fired? Hahaha!”

“I said nothing of the sort. But, suppose—just suppose—that clown tries to use your station again, barges in with his guns and henchmen—wouldn’t that be dangerous for both you and us? If my team were stationed here, you’d at least be fully protected, wouldn’t you agree?”

The station director fell silent. Clearly, the suggestion would bring him no small amount of trouble. By his own account, he’d been coerced, so he had no grounds to reject extra protection; but with Umbrella’s security stationed inside, much of his future programming would be subject to their scrutiny.

“The police have already stepped up security around here...”

Johnson grinned. Instantly, several guns were trained on the clever, wealthy, opportunistic businessman.

“The clown kidnapped our esteemed station director, as part of his dreadful scheme! Ah, the director, in his commitment to justice, bravely refused to cooperate and was tragically harmed! What a misfortune! Let us all mourn the noble Mr. Philip together!”

In that moment, Philip’s face changed several times. Then the guards lowered their weapons and laughed heartily.

It was a jest, but also a dire threat—not something to be brushed aside.

Clearly, the hypothetical situation had not yet come to pass. For Umbrella’s people to approach him now was by no means a good sign.

Mr. Philip had always valued his own interests above all and would never betray a friend—or anyone else—without clear gain. The captain’s threat was impossible to ignore, yet he hadn’t hinted at any benefit for Philip—certainly not compared to the clown—so the choice was not hard to make.

After all, the clown had never asked him to keep silent, nor to offer any assistance. Ha! Even if he had, he would have refused. Still, perhaps the clown had anticipated this very scenario...

“If my staff or I uncover any information regarding this, we will inform you immediately,” the director said, choosing his words carefully. “Does that satisfy you?”

In any case, the tacit understanding was that there’d be no further contact. Cooperation would at least mitigate some of the risk. So, let it be.