A fixer office is a place that subcontracts and resolves various tasks that exist in the city. Brokers affiliated with the office introduce requests to fixers they know, and fixers receive request fees by accepting and completing these requests. Brokers, meanwhile, take a commission from the middle for introducing these requests.
However, while the fixer industry seems to operate in this small-scale manner, they too have a proper organization.
That would be the [Broker Union].
Most fixer offices are affiliated with this Broker Union, which classifies and manages offices according to their characteristics into white, gray, and black grades.
And the building that could be called the headquarters of this Broker Union was also a place where requests were posted for fixers who didn't yet have their own brokers.
In the spacious hall at the entrance of the headquarters. Today, as always, countless fixers gathered around the bulletin board, checking if there were any requests worth taking.
"Hey, move aside. I spotted this request first."
"What are you talking about? I was here first. If you have a problem, go get an application form!"
"Any fixers available to clean the underground sewers?"
"Who would do something that dirty? Are you an idiot?""You bastard. You really want your teeth to be intact today!"
Fighting with each other, or recruiting people to go on requests together. This place was no different from an employment agency. The only difference was that the atmosphere was somewhat more hostile than other employment agencies.
Fixers are ultimately people who engage in violence. And the fixers who come to places like this are mostly those who haven't yet gained a reputation.
They’re people who have settled at the bottom of the fixer industry, that's why they were always filled with resentment and acted sensitively. Having grown up in environments where violence was common and still working in such environments, fistfights frequently broke out at the headquarters.
It was the same now. Two fixers began exchanging blows over a request that caught their attention.
"What's this? Another fight?"
"Hey, everyone gather around! Betting time!"
Despite the sudden outbreak of fighting, the people around didn't panic but rather flocked to the scene as if an entertaining spectacle had appeared.
This wasn't the first or second time such incidents had occurred here. Even the Broker Union headquarters staff didn't try to intervene, considering it a common occurrence.
The established pattern was that they would fight for a while and then quit on their own when they got tired.
Occasionally, the atmosphere would become heated, leading to severe fights. In such cases, a fixer affiliated with the Broker Union would step in to handle such tactless individuals.
"They really never get tired of fighting, do they?"
"Anyway, most of the requests posted on that bulletin board are physical labor jobs, so there's nothing easy about them."
The ones on such bulletin boards were the lowest of the low, not even making it to broker offices. Physical labor that others avoided, or tasks with too high a difficulty level that broker offices rejected, inevitably ended up on the headquarters bulletin board. That bulletin board was composed of requests that all had some defect or another.
Seeing them fighting over which request was better seemed almost contemptible, like fighting over a rock in a mud pit.
Of course, since this happened so frequently that everyone had become accustomed to it, the staff just thought it was fine as long as they didn't cross the line.
The fight ended. One side lay on the ground, covered in blood and trembling. Of course, the victor was equally in a mess.
He wiped the blood trickling down his face, and when it wouldn't stop, he spat out a curse in an irritated voice.
The fixers who had been watching exchanged money they had bet, giggling among themselves. Perhaps disliking the sight, the fixer who had won the fight frowned and shouted angrily.
"What are you looking at, damn it! You bastards! Are you here for a show?!"
With his temper flaring from the fight, bloodshot eyes glared at the crowd. At this sight, some fixers frowned and became agitated.
Having learned nothing but fighting, when faced with such situations, they naturally chose to confront rather than retreat.
"Hey, if you've won a fair fight, shouldn't you back off? You don't look in great shape yourself."
"Damn it. Bastards like you and this idiot here, sitting at the bottom of the shit pile and still trying to rank each other. You're all the same as this loser on the ground, assholes!"
"Huh. This guy's crossing the line. I tried to be nice, but..."
Provoked by the inflammatory words, several fixers stepped forward, flexing their muscular arms. Occasionally, such provocations would lead to one-sided lynchings.
Of course, the staff wouldn't intervene in such situations. At least, not as long as those doing the lynching didn't cross the line by killing someone.
"Ptooey! Come on, let's fight!"
The fixer spat out the blood pooled in his mouth and drew a dagger from his waist. Even if many were to rush him, he was determined to take down at least the first one who approached. The fixers who had stepped forward glanced at each other, seeing the gleaming killing intent.
They wondered if the guy had gone mad, drawing a knife, and whether the Broker Union should step in.
-Muscle! Muscle! Muscle!
At that moment, the lobby became chaotic with loud shouts. Wondering what mad people were shouting such strange slogans, the wall of fixers collapsed.
It was the Starlight Knight Order, dressed in light attire, who broke through.
They pushed their way through the crowd, shouting "muscle" as they went.
"Uh, what?"
"What's going on?!"
The fixers wondered why their bodies were being pushed aside so easily. The Starlight Knight Order members all had exceptional physical abilities, so just by walking, they knocked over fixers like bowling pins.
Even though the fixers gathered here were at the bottom, at least in terms of appearance, their size and muscles were not the type to be easily pushed around.
In fact, there were quite a few who had excessively bulked up. Yet, even they were knocked over with just a slight pass from the knights.
As the crowd collapsed, the Starlight Knight Order, who had only intended to push through moderately, became embarrassed.
"Why are these guys suddenly falling over?"
"Did they not eat today? Sheesh. Being so weak. Make sure to eat properly."
They chided the fallen fixers. Honestly, from the knights' perspective, it looked like they had merely bumped into them, and the fixers had exaggerated their falls.
"Y-you bastards! Who do you think you are?!"
The fixer who had been facing off with a dagger at the bulletin board felt intimidated by the sudden appearance of the muscular knights.
"I'm asking who you are, you sons of bitches!"
To show he wasn't afraid, he deliberately raised his guard and shouted more fiercely. Realizing belatedly that he was addressing them, the knights turned to him.
"I was wondering what all the noise was about. Were you talking to us?"
Anthony sighed as if he found it absurd. As he walked forward with a sneer, the fixer with the dagger retreated hesitantly.
"Y-you bastard! Don't come any closer! Stay away!"
"Hey, we're here to find a request, so step aside from the bulletin board."
"I said stay away!"
As Anthony approached, the fixer swung his dagger widely. Whether it was just for intimidation or not, his stance with the dagger was quite well-established. Moreover, as if instinctively judging Anthony as dangerous, the dagger's trajectory was aimed directly at Anthony's nape.
Just as a few keen-eyed individuals were about to shout a warning.
"What are you doing?"
-Thwack.
Anthony caught the blade of the incoming dagger with just his index and middle fingers.
"Huh?"
The fixer, with his blade caught, was flustered but instinctively tried to retrieve his dagger. However, no matter how hard he pulled, the dagger didn't budge.
Anthony was holding just the tip of the blade with two fingers, yet it felt as if the dagger had been sucked into a massive compressor.
"What's this? Even a toy knife like this can hurt someone if swung carelessly. You know that, right? Though, with something like this, you couldn't even scratch my body."
Anthony spoke casually as he applied force to his fingers.
-Clang!
The blade of the dagger broke with a snap, as if it were a biscuit. At the sight, the fixer blankly stared at the dagger, now just a hilt, and at that moment, Anthony stood very close to him.
"You already seem quite injured from a previous fight. One wrong move and you might die. Alright, stay still."
"What the hell are you...?"
Anthony, who had clenched his fist, relaxed his hand and lightly struck the fixer's forehead with his palm.
Though it seemed like a light tap, the fixer collapsed to the ground, face-first. The other fixers who witnessed this all closed their mouths and just rolled their eyes.
Among them, one fixer recognized Anthony.
"That guy, isn't that Anthony?"
"What? Do you know him?"
"I've worked with him before. I'd never forget those distinctive buck teeth. But something's strange. Was he always this strong?"
At least in his memory, Anthony wasn't this sturdy or strong. What could have happened to make the once flippant and cowardly guy change into such a manly figure?
While everyone was looking on with curious eyes, Anthony searched for a suitable request and plucked one from the bulletin board.
"This will do. Just right for a warm-up."
What Anthony took was a kind of security job protecting factory workers' protests from hired thugs. It was essentially a job to fight against hired thugs and, since hired thugs were usually associated with gangs, it was a dangerous request where one might even get shot if things went wrong.
Moreover, requests from labor unions usually don't have particularly good compensation compared to their difficulty. That's why everyone avoided it, but Anthony took it without hesitation.
"A-Anthony! Remember me? It's me, Jackson!"
"Huh? Jackson? Wow, it's been a while. Have you been well?"
Anthony greeted his old fixer comrade with a bright face. Jackson awkwardly returned the greeting and asked Anthony.
"Are you really going to take that request?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Well, it's a bit dangerous."
Jackson said so while glancing at Anthony's companions. Judging by their faces, they looked like they had done less rough work than the other fixers here, but looking at their exposed bodies, that wasn't the case at all. It was as if they exuded an intimidating aura like solid rock. Anthony laughed heartily at Jackson, who was naturally intimidated.
"Haha, it's fine, it's fine. This isn't even close to being challenging for us. Anyway, thanks for your concern."
"Ah, ah! By the way, Anthony."
"What? Do you have more questions?"
"You, what happened to you in the meantime? You've completely changed. Did you eat something good?"
"Something good? I did eat. But more important than that is this."
Anthony showed off his biceps proudly.
"What is it?"
"Muscles."
"Muscles?"
"Yes! Muscles!"
Anthony's voice echoed throughout the hall where the bulletin board was located.
"Train your muscles and you'll be like this!"
A person with common sense might have scolded Anthony, saying that merely training muscles wouldn't result in such a transformation. But those gathered here were people who knew nothing but fighting. With limited education, they took Anthony's words seriously.
"Muscles? So building the body is the best?"
"But where do you train?"
Hearing the murmurs, a knight named Jerey stepped forward. Liking to show off and act proudly, he, like Anthony, boasted about his muscles and said.
"Those who want to be like us, come to the Starlight Knight Order training ground! You too can be like this!"
As if they had been waiting, the other members also struck poses. At the sight of muscles that seemed to be alive, the fixers' eyes sparkled as if they were inspired by something.
A Broker Union staff member who was watching dropped the document he was holding.
"What the hell is this?"
Osian asked.
"So where is the track of that power?"
"Before I tell you that, I should explain the situation first. It might be a bit long."
"Let's hear it."
Grace immediately explained the incident she had experienced in detail.
"The one backing Dead Dagger is Full Metal Heart, a conglomerate in steam suit manufacturing. They provide comprehensive support to Dead Dagger from behind, and Dead Dagger doesn't hesitate to kill people for them."
Her voice was gentle and pleasant to hear, so Osian crossed his arms and quietly listened to her words.
"So we tried to attack the directors of Full Metal Heart, who are closely related to Dead Dagger. Of course, Dead Dagger's forces were attached as security, but we could easily break through at our level. The problem arose there. When pushed to the defensive, the Dead Dagger guys brought out something else."
"Could it be that...?"
Nodding that Osian's guess was correct, Grace said.
"A power that blazes like the brilliant sun. The same power you used during the District 38 incident."
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