Four months had passed since Dr. Montoya's funeral, and Lemon had apparently worked her charm on Vindel, securing a transfer to the Tesla Institute to join the team developing the teleportation device. She sent communications back to Shadow-Mirror three or four times a week, mostly to gripe about the slow pace of progress.
Speaking of which, Axel mused, one of the lead researchers is named Helios Olympus. That's Gilliam's alias, isn't it? Or perhaps, in this world, it was his real name, not an alias at all. In the original timeline, Gilliam was set to transfer to the other world in just over a year, so Axel hoped Lemon could soak up as much teleportation tech know-how as possible before then.
The Excellence project, meanwhile, was progressing steadily. Raji and Mizuho were spearheading the development, but according to an email from Raji, Raul and Fiona occasionally offered surprisingly sharp insights. For some reason, Fiona had grown especially passionate about the project. True to the original story, she'd proposed—and they'd adopted—the idea of a cockpit that doubled as an escape pod and compact fighter. While the frame-swapping system had been shelved for now, they'd started with a ground-combat frame based on their initial blueprint. If I recall, that frame has a giant claw on its right hand, Axel thought. Reminds me of the Builtbilger's oversized scissors.
Whatever the case, he wished them luck. As for himself…
"Vindel, I'm coming in," Axel called, giving the door a quick knock before barging into Vindel's office.
Vindel looked up, his brow furrowed. "Axel, what's the point of knocking if you don't wait for a response?"
"You're just doing paperwork, right? Don't sweat it. I don't." Axel shrugged, unfazed.
With a sigh, Vindel handed him two documents. "Here."
"What's this?" Axel asked, glancing at them.
"Lieutenant Axel Almer, it's a mission."
"Lieutenant?" Axel's eyes narrowed as he examined the papers. One was a formal notice promoting him from second lieutenant to lieutenant.
"Lieutenant, huh?" he muttered. In the original story, his rank was never specified, though he recalled Vindel introducing himself as a colonel. With the timeline already so fractured, his rank probably didn't matter much.
"And the mission?" Axel asked.
"It's tied to that corrupt politician we discussed," Vindel said. "You're to infiltrate a mafia office in New York and gather evidence."
Axel raised an eyebrow. "That kind of mission? I'm more of a combat guy, you know."
"Don't make that face," Vindel said. "There's a reason I'm assigning this to you. No killing, under any circumstances."
"What? Even if I get spotted?"
"Exactly. Killing mafia members would make too much noise, and that noise would reach the politician, putting him on guard."
"But it's evidence collection, right? Stealing ledgers or hacking their computers? Won't that tip him off anyway?"
Axel couldn't see the difference—killing mafia goons or stealing their dirt would both alert the politician. But Vindel shook his head.
"Sure, they'll notice the evidence is gone eventually and contact him. But that's after they realize it's missing. They'll likely try to handle it themselves first, not wanting to admit their screw-up. That buys us time to deal with the politician."
"Got it. So, no stealing the whole computer?"
"Right. Copy the data to a disk if you can. For physical ledgers or contracts, you'll have to take them, but leaving dummy papers would help."
No stuffing the computer into my spatial storage like I did at the Special Brain Institute, then, Axel thought.
"Understood. Who's the politician?"
"Albert Grey."
"Oh, that guy." Axel smirked. In the original story, Albert Grey was a third-rate politician, a puppet of Karl Stresemann who got unceremoniously abandoned when the Aerogators attacked. His condescending attitude reminded Axel of Siebel from his military academy days.
"If it's about taking a third-rate crook like him off the board, I'll put in some effort," Axel said.
Vindel gave a wry smile. "You've got a mouth on you."
With a casual salute, Axel left the office. First, he'd need to get the tech team to prep his infiltration gear. Thanks to his rapport with Lemon, the tech crew treated him with a decent amount of respect. When he'd mentioned this to her, she'd flashed that predatory grin of hers and said, "What do they think I am, exactly?" That grin, Axel figured, was exactly why the mechanics both feared and admired her. It wasn't just fear—her brilliance and surprising knack for looking out for her team earned their loyalty, a mix of awe and reverence.
With those thoughts in mind, Axel headed to the tech team's lounge, where mechanics and scientists were gathered.
Blending into the New York night, Axel stood before the mafia's office. He wore the same black bodysuit he'd used to infiltrate the Special Brain Institute, designed to melt into the shadows. His visor—custom-made by Lemon with Tesla Institute tech—was packed with features: infrared detection, night vision, zoom, video recording, and more. She'd asked for a detailed report on its performance, and the tech team had been thrilled to let Axel test it in their place.
Why does Lemon always have the perfect gear ready for missions like this? Axel wondered. Did she know Vindel was assigning me this? No matter—it was useful, especially since the visor's recording function meant he wouldn't need dummy papers for physical documents. As for other tools, he didn't carry any; his spatial storage held everything he needed, keeping him light and agile.
"Alright, Focus," Axel muttered, activating the mental command.
The Focus command sharpened his concentration for about a minute, heightening his ability to detect anything out of place. Unlike the original game's blanket boost to evasion and accuracy, it worked by amplifying his awareness, letting him act on subtle cues to dodge or strike precisely. Like Accelerate, it was versatile enough to use outside a mech.
With his senses sharpened, Axel scanned his surroundings. "All clear."
The mafia's office sat in a quiet corner of the business district, shrouded in darkness at this hour. Unlike Japanese yakuza, who might flaunt their presence in a bustling nightlife area, New York's mafia kept a lower profile—too much attention would bring the police crashing in. Axel's heightened awareness confirmed no guards were nearby, though he couldn't rule out someone with concealment skills surpassing his detection. Overthinking that won't get me anywhere.
Blending into the shadows, he approached the two-story building. "Alright, Slime."
He summoned a tendril from his spatial storage, liquefying it to scout the office. The sweep took less than a minute, and from his hiding spot in the building's shadow, he confirmed no one had spotted him.
"No one's inside, but there's one room on the second floor with infrared sensors," he noted.
That room was almost certainly where the important stuff was kept. The sensors, positioned about a meter off the floor, were high enough to avoid tripping by small animals like rats—meaning they were designed to catch intruders.
"Well, knowing where they are means I won't trip them," Axel muttered.
Using the slime to unlock a nearby window via the ventilation system, he slipped inside. Just to be safe, he activated the visor's infrared mode to double-check for sensors. Moving swiftly, he reached the second-floor room without issue.
"This feels too easy," Axel murmured.
For a mafia tied to a corrupt politician, their security was surprisingly lax. "Then again, if they're working with a third-rate like Albert Grey, maybe they're third-rate too."
With a quiet chuckle, Axel opened the door just enough to slip through—any wider, and he'd trigger the infrared beams. He slid inside, closed the door, and scanned the room. Through the visor, he saw the infrared sensors exactly as the slime had scouted: crisscrossing the room about a meter above the floor.