Tear A Path 232 Positive Record Record

A pair of feet glide it's way through a nicely lit hall, clad in a pair of galoshes still lick with a fresh coat of wax. The knees shifted methodically with every step as it ruffled the pin-striped polyester pants. A similarly patterned suit rested perfectly on a sleek body that looked so elusively small behind the black and white attire, a sleek little tie rested symmetrically in between.

A restless hand continued to pat down a stubborn brunette fringe that was already coated in so many products it might as well have been cemented down. The other hung stiffly towards the ground, the thumb and fore finger would twitch, thumbing an imaginary hammer and trigger.

He always found this walk so tedious, pa.s.sing by the needlessly decorated path. A cacophony of the old world's art displayed so gaudily at set intervals. That nausea inducing smell of paint, still fresh from the recent paint job on the walls that were simply hiding a crumbling construction.

After a few steps in there he felt himself becoming light-headed and woozy, the urge to vomit building up in his throat. Gingerly fishing out a cloth from his pocket, he pinched the fabric between his fingers, sliding it around until he found a small patch of crimson. Bringing it up to his face, he nuzzled his beak of a nose against that very spot, inhaling deeply, so much so that his back tensed a little and his face was flush with euphoria from the act.

Without further delay, he refolded the piece, making sure there were no creases before sliding it back in and continued on his way. Finally he is straight path led him to stand beside a timber door, like every other piece in this place, so gaudily decorated with some gold etchings and a shiny handle that wasted away at the deep colors of the wood.

His mouth tensed, baring his disdain towards this blatant act of sacrilege against the resources they poured into this G.o.d-forsaken place. His feet shifted, right first at a 90 degree angle then followed by the left to face the door before his arm raised itself up straight at a 90 degree angle and he made a knock on the door.

He didn't wait for a response to open the door and entered. Inside, a group of neo-n.a.z.i men watched in disdain as he walked through. Like him, they all wore suits, but from time to time he could see the stains peek from under their jackets and the white of their shirts gradually turn darker as it moved down, something which they should put more effort into hiding than simply b.u.t.toning their vests over it.

This was one of the few times he actually felt satisfaction from being sent to work here. The indignant looks they had from knowing that he as an asian was the one who called their shots and their jealousy for the luxury he could afford was a huge confidence boost to him. The fact that it put them in their place was just a happy bonus.

But that was all of it. Besides this boost, he received no form of gratification from this job the higher ups put on to him. Mainly because these guys were really wrecking his clean performance record. Each delegation from his council was sent to look and support people from their world with whatever form of aid they needed.

In the first place, their little piece of land here was a dump with minimal natural resources. And it made more sense to him than them that they should move to join the human outpost cities rather than try to colonize this land. But they insistently chose to remain here and asked for weapons to defend themselves.

That in itself would seem pretty reasonable, that was if they weren't utterly incompetent at it. The first weapons he'd brought were explosives like grenade launchers and mortars, this was because of their ease of use and less requirement for some actually skills in shooting than simply pointing their weapon in a general direction and letting the explosions do most of the work.

But somehow they didn't get it in their heads that maybe it would be better to shoot it where several beasts were gathering rather than kill one by dropping three to make sure it didn't escape. So even though their levels began to grow as the higher ups intended, the expenditure to growth ratio was completely disproportionate.

Even worse was that they then began to pick a fight with some neighboring inhabitants, not even the kind they were hostile against. They were in fact the kind that most of the higher ups were trying to create political relations with, if news of this were to reach the ears of the higher ups, he'd be taking most of the blame for these guys, especially because he ordered the weapons for them.

If it stopped there, he could still remedy the situation. But somehow, despite the supply of fire power, they were losing even worse. Somehow the information on their weapons were leaked. And while their side wasted ammo trying to bombard the opposing, the more efficient mages of the other side were targeting their ammo supplies causing some pretty fireworks which burned several of them as well as his positive record.

Thing is, mana didn't cost money, weapons did. So at this point, even if they won, they would barely break even, whose to say what would happen to him if they lost.