The job was simple.

  Chouko Ashford, the fleeing black-haired and red-eyed girl responsible for lethal action in an Indianapolis office building of mercenaries, is somewhere close to the state of Indiana. Anyone who finds her will be paid very handsomely, to the point where the job is to capture and deliver some girl.

  Easy and simple. Just overpower some brat, some girl on the run, and fat money comes from it. The bikers all collectively knew that to be the task, and were ready to hunt Ashford down. All signs were lined up for them to take her bounty: they found her car, discovered her accomplice spoke with the receptionist, deduced what room she was in, and outnumbered her twelve to one.

  Then: "Bang, thud, crash and vroom".

  In the time they found her, three of them were dead and Ashford was fleeing. One of them was the real leader, the one who was replaced quickly for the sake of pursuing Ashford. They were right on her tail, following her onto the highway to get her—to the point of managing to even corner her.

  So, with the car's "bulletproof" window breaking to shards after repeated shooting, as the Mercedes-Benz was on its last legs, the leader has his shotgun aimed right at Shortcake, about to shoot at the two through the open window...

  ... but then.

  "...?!"

  The leader hears the rumble of his motorcycle echoing out, as it spontaneously begins to slow. Losing his trajectory of the shot, the leader watches Ashford's car speeding forward alongside the panicked traffic.

  He grips the motorcycle throttle and tries to push forward, but the cycle simply can't speed up, it just won't. The motorcycle's done for.

  It wasn't just him. The other bikers alongside him, all right behind the Mercedes-Benz, were stalling as well. Starting to sputter and slow down, the bikes are all collectively experiencing the same issues.

  "H-Hey! Shit, what's going on?!"

  "T-The engine's dying!"

  "Mine, too!"

  Just as Kuroiwa thought, just as she theorized... the phone, it... it still works. It never stopped working. By no means did the phone ever stop working. The bikers' motorcycles are now made to malfunction because of her hack, because of... her ability.

  Hearing the sputtering motorcycle engines behind her, Kuroiwa felt chills go down her spine. A pure revelation dawned on her. This isn't... she's not even... she...

  "Damn it... damn it!" loudly shouts the second leader, gritting his teeth. Rage fills his veins as he shouts out to Ashford. "No... NO! I'M NOT LETTING YOU GET AWAY! I'M NOT... I'M NOT!"

  The man has a firm grip on the throttle, exerting more force on the bike and trying to get it working again. No matter what he does, however, the bike will not move forward.

  With Ashford starting to get further and further, he continues to rev up the engine more and more, glaring forward with raw determination. He needed to get Ashford, he needed to take her down. He had a clean shot at her, and she just slipped through his fingers.

  The biker holds his chin and grits his teeth, his eyes burning with hatred at this. "Fifty million... fifty million...!" Forcibly twisting his hand to the point where his wrist aches, putting all his might into it.

  For the leader, for the crew, for... "FIFTY... MILLION... DOLLARS!!!" Shouting at the top of his lungs, swinging his bat forcibly at the side of the cycle.

  This sound catches Kuroiwa's ear. Kuroiwa looks in the mirror, seeing him whacking his bike far behind her. Watching as he does that. Her eyes briefly widen at this, before... narrowing, a cold look in her eyes. "Shortcake..." Kuroiwa calmly tells the android.

  "Yes? What is it?" Shortcake asks.

  "I... need you to shut off for a moment," Kuroiwa tells Shortcake, taking a calm breath. "Turn off your eyes and ears. Specifically, wait for me to tap on your shoulder five times before activating again. Do you understand?"

  "Sure..." Shortcake responds, confused about why Kuroiwa is instructing her to do this.

  Kuroiwa just takes a calm breath, looking back forward. Preparing for traffic to speed up.

  The biker leader continues to swing and swing, blinded by rage, aggressively trying to get this hunk of junk working. Right behind her, the leader continues to swing, before...!

  ... the bike speeds forward.

  "H... HAHAHA!" the leader loudly and cathartically laughs, going full throttle as he points the bat straight at the car. Speeding forward and on his way to closing the distance. "YOU'RE MINE, ASHFO—!"

  His loud battle cry is interrupted by a spark sounding out, a puff of smoke coming out from the vehicle.

  One second later, the motorcycle explodes.

  A vicious, loud explosion sets off inside the motorcycle's engine, causing the vehicle to blow up in a fiery combustion. Bits and pieces of the motorcycle launch outward, its wheels and machinery scattered throughout the lanes of the freeway. Along with the nuts and bolts, pieces of human remains scatter about.

  Kuroiwa continues to drive as this sound echoes out. This is the reason why she told Shortcake to disable her senses, to spare her the potential bloodbath.

  It's easy for her to escape. Traffic becomes a lot faster after the motorcycle explosion, and the cars around Kuroiwa share the same sentiment: "Get away from whatever the hell happened."

  The same cannot be said about the unfortunate vehicles further behind, the recipients of blood splatters and charred flesh getting over their windshields and windows. Bits, pieces, and chunks of motorcycle metal are launched outward, and the bones and limbs of the short-lived new biker leader are scattered about.

  The six remaining bikers, the ones that were right behind him, watch as this happens. Seeing his cycle blow up, they immediately get off of their motorcycles and stand in place, unable to get off the freeway as cars drive past them. Sheer, utter distraught on their faces, the bikers are left to bask in the ruins of what was once their new leader.

  It is no longer a simple job, with a third of them dead, and two injured/out of commission. These six bikers just uncomfortably remain on that freeway, Kuroiwa leaving them behind... far behind.

  Kuroiwa takes several, several deep breaths as she takes a brief look at Shortcake. She sees the android just staring forward with eyes grayed out. She seems to be clinging to the seat, just staring forward, seemingly unfazed and completely oblivious to what happened.

  Kuroiwa simply felt like sparing Shortcake's processors from knowing about the fiery carnage behind them. So, she's leaving Shortcake like this for the next few minutes. Driving. Driving away from the scene.

  This is a triumphant victory for Kuroiwa.

  Or, at least, it should be.

  Kuroiwa... Chouko. Chouko, now that the bikers were down and that hard persona of hers quiets down, just sits back and basks in the uneasy air. The car drives along, with panicked drivers speeding around her. Driving at speeds Chouko keeps up with, traffic just moving actively forward.

  It's hard to put in words how exactly Chouko is feeling right now, after watching that man blow himself up. A calm, blank, idle look is in her eyes after that happened. She's no stranger to death, sure.

  However, there is something inherently wrong with what happened.

  Chouko was under the impression that those men were after her. That these men were under the payroll of the real Kuroiwa, and that she was dealing with ruthless men who sought to kill her. However, that one biker who swung his bat at the motorcycle in a desperate plea to get her? He cannot have been employed by the same person. No, no, the real Kuroiwa would hire people who... who don't do that.

  Could it be that the feeling of superiority has completely taken Chouko? This very well might be the reason. She derives no purpose beyond mere self-defense. Chouko is not just superior, the bikers are inferior. The brand of incompetence with these bikers extends far beyond Chouko's scope. She murdered the subject of her torment only mere hours ago, why should she derive emotional joy from these nobodies? Maybe it's nothing.

  ... but it isn't nothing. There is a cloud of doubt hovering over Chouko's head. An ounce—no, a liter—of doubt that she even understands the situation.

  Chouko knows that the real Kuroiwa wants "Chouko Ashford" alive. That's what she learned from the Executioner's attempt to subdue her living body, going so far as to sacrifice his men to make sure Chouko is still in good condition. For the real Kuroiwa to benefit from her existence, the biker needed to keep her alive. The way the biker was about to kill her implied otherwise, that the biker didn't need Chouko alive whatsoever.

  When they were calling out the car, that she was in the car, they referred to it as "Ashford's car," further cementing that they had no personal connection with the owner of the car—the Executioner. They had no knowledge it was stolen, just that it was the car she was driving.

  So it cannot be just a vendetta for Indianapolis. When the bikers were at the motel, they had called out Ashford. "Ashford's in here," they shouted, so they knew who she was.

  Chouko thinks long and hard about what this could mean and why the bikers were after her, why they were...

  ... wait.

  Wait.

  Hypothetically, what... would it mean if these bikers were under different employ?

  "..."

  Chouko goes silent as this hypothetical. Her eyes go wide at this hypothesis. The details line up in her head, crossing over her head like pins and thread. Bundling up a major revelation. A shiver goes through every nerve in her body as a cold chill claims her body.

  The bikers were not competent enough to be affiliated with Kuroiwa. The bikers had no affiliation with the Executioner or any of the mercenaries at Indianapolis. The bikers solely knew her as "Ashford" rather than anything.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  It's a different job. A different reward altogether. Chouko Ashford is a target sought for an entirely different reason from the Real Kuroiwa.

  So, since Chouko is a target of a different employer, then that means... information about her is being brought to public attention. There's a possibility that her identity is now in public focus and attention.

  ... tch...

  Chouko is not going to leave herself alone with this information. She reaches over and taps Shortcake's shoulder repeatedly, getting the android up.

  "Huh? Ah. Yes, okay, I'm active...!" Shortcake noises, watching as Chouko is still tapping her shoulder far more than five times as she instructed. "I'm up, I'm—"

  "Shortcake, I need to run something by you, immediately," Chouko demands, stopping her shoulder tapping. "Something crucial to our survival."

  "M... Mhmm? What is it?" Shortcake asks.

  "I need you to run me through how, exactly, you knew we were in danger."

  "Oh... uhm..." Shortcake fiddles her thumbs, looking down at her hands. "Well, I woke you up when I saw the men outside. They were on scary motorcycles, and they stood outside the motel as if looking for someone. I watched out for them for the entire time after..."

  A long pause, as Shortcake goes silent.

  "... after I fell asleep," Chouko answers for Shortcake, finishing the sentence for the android. There isn't much to expect from Shortcake, Chouko thinks to herself. Best not to bother her too much about it, the android is as lost as she is. "I see. Alright... alright. Hmm..."

  Shortcake looks at Chouko nervously. The android wants to tell Chouko about how she saw the news, how the subtitles reported her name and the car, and how several news channels were telling people about her. Chouko must know this information going forward.

  ... but... Shortcake doesn't tell her. Shortcake hesitates to tell Chouko about it.

  One look at Chouko, and the android believes that Chouko cannot handle that information right now. The tight grip on the steering wheel, the bloodshot eyes that lock forward on the road, every fidgeting motion of Chouko's body. She has already said enough to hurt Chouko in that motel room, and the knowledge about the news will send Chouko spiraling.

  So the two are left in utter quiet, Chouko in thought while Shortcake in concern. The car still drives forward, heading far away. Chouko leaving behind the scene, the scenes. Both the remains of the motorcycle explosion, as well as the motel and the office—

  Wait.

  "... shit...!" Chouko mumbles under her breath, leaning forward. Something crosses her mind after dealing with the bikers, something glaringly important. "Shit, shit, shit... shit!"

  "H... Huh? W-What is it?" Shortcake asks, her voice frightened. Hearing Chouko's tone shift, registering despair in Chouko's voice. "I-Is something the matter?!"

  "Yes!" Chouko shouts with intensity and panic, her eyes almost bloodshot as the realization hits her. "Shortcake! Remember when we were checking into the motel while you had the phone?! When I had you use the phone to pay for the motel room itself? When you held it up to the scanner and got money sent...?"

  "U... Uhm, yes... I- I remember that...!" Shortcake answers with a faint whimper.

  "Well!" Chouko tensely growls out, taking a deep breath. Her emotions are getting the better of her. Her body is trembling and shaking while driving. "It works because it uses an encrypted channel to conceal payment information. Essentially, the phone uses a hack to change the data and hide me."

  "Right, that makes sense..." Shortcake responds.

  "Not just that, we used the phone to conceal the camera... to hide the camera footage!" Chouko exclaims, her breath growing heavy and seething with raw panic. "And as we have previously established... the phone did not work when you were the one to hold the phone and press the button. Following so far?"

  "Okay, so... I..." Shortcake begins to mumble, her AI facing a loading wheel as she's struggling to understand what this means. "I don't... understand."

  "The phone doesn't work... it doesn't work when you're using it!" Chouko exclaims, panic seething out of her throat. "So it didn't work when you were hacking the motorcycles, it didn't work when you were encrypting the payment, and it didn't work..."

  ... when the camera recorded Chouko entering the motel. Shortcake goes wide-eyed at this, finally fully processing the information. She covers her mouth with her hands, and terror fills her artificial body. "O... Oh! Oh! O-Oh..."

  "So... do you understand what this means now...?" Chouko asks...

  "I... I do..." Shortcake answers.

  The two are left only able to drive along, this realization filling them with utter despair. Chouko's left behind a massive footprint for anyone looking for them...

  ... including the police.

  The police that have, within the time Chouko and Shortcake drove and sped away from the bikers, arrived at the crime scene.

  Back at the motel, officers are spread throughout the motel grounds. In these most dreary of times, the police have been granted far more freedom to immediately investigate, under the condition that they investigate to their fullest. They must leave no stone unturned, scavenge through the motel with all of their resources, and search every room and camera as necessary.

  Several police androids, most of them with pure white skin and bright purple hair, are crouched near the four bodies to perform remote autopsies. Three men deceased outside, with one dead in Room 105. Causes of death: blunt force trauma for the receptionist, gunshot wound for the Room 105 corpse, crushed ribs for the one against the parking lot, and... the entirety of his lower body being crushed, for the one closest to the wall.

  All of this data, as well as additional forensics, are recorded for later examination. Their eyes capture pictures of the crime scene, walking around while only one officer is outside to supervise the several androids at the scene. One single officer, a man with a phone in his hand, does nothing but actively press a single button to transmit all the android data to the station.

  The rest of the officers took care of other matters, more... "human-involved" matters. A few officers are actively gathering witness reports from any guests still on the scene, some more officers are speaking to paramedics who arrived at the scene...

  ... and inside the front lobby, the rest of the officers were examining two things: CCTV footage of the various cameras in the motel, and the lobby computer's check-in and payment records. Having full access to all of the motel's technology, examining what they needed in order to piece together a proper report.

  "Hmm... interesting," noises the officer examining the outside cameras, curiously scratching his chin.

  "What's interesting?" a different officer asks, examining the camera footage in the lobby.

  "Take a look," the officer remarks, trailing his finger along the screen to replay the footage, focusing on the camera that has a clear view of 105. "So, there's a crowd of them surrounding 105, the one with the body in it. Two of them go in while they're aiming guns at the door..."

  Replaying the events, the officers are examining the crucial moment in question, subject to watching as the Mercedes-Benz opens up its passenger-side front door. Opening up on its own.

  "Ah, neat. A self-opening car...? That's curious..."

  "The thing is, it's not..." the officer remarks, rewinding slowly. "If it were, then... look at this precise moment where the door handle is pulled. Self-opening car doors don't do that."

  Interesting and peculiar indeed. "I see... do you think it's an invisible man situation?"

  "Could be... could be..."

  Suddenly, a knock on the front door. A knock that sounds out at that immediate moment.

  At the lobby's front entrance stands a tall, 6'2" man with a large beige trenchcoat on. His figure is very slim and slender, with extremely skinny arms and legs. His unkempt black hair is sprawled out from under his matching fedora, with eyes obscured and hidden by the shadow of the hat's brim. He has a friendly smile as his hand is resting against the door, the other hand tipping his hat slightly. A traditional detective, through and through.

  Getting the officers' attention, the man prepares to introduce himself. "Excuse me," the trench-coated man calls out with a deep voice, reaching for a card and presenting it to the officer who looks the most in charge. "Investigator Salvato, at your service. Some androids pointed me in this direction?"

  "Ah, right, Investigator Salvato," the aforementioned officer remarks, the head officer in charge of the investigation. While the other officers scavenge for data, this one in particular is a supervising force, overseeing all of their work and ordering as necessary. "We were told to expect you. We're merely observing camera footage and records for now."

  We, he says...

  "Right, right. Please, don't let me disturb you," Salvato earnestly tells the officer, giving a polite grin before standing in the corner of the room. "I'll be happy to help in any way I can!"

  "Alright."

  Thus, the police continue to investigate as the new detective-looking man stands there. Towering over everyone with his... strangely cheerful demeanor. For a man who wears the shadiest, stereotypical detective outfit possible, he is unusually jolly. He radiates with uncanny energy.

  It makes the head officer sick, the more he stands there. Scratching the side of his neck, the head officer just tries to ignore Investigator Salvato. "... alright. Any of you got anything on the room itself?"

  An officer clears his throat. "I do. So, room 105, was it?" the officer checking the payment records asks. "Today, there's been one check-in earlier this morning."

  "This morning...?" the head officer asks. "Show me."

  "Right, here's the footage..." the officer responds, playing back the conversation. The officers and Investigator Salvato listen in, just noting down everything said. Especially the individual who identified herself as:

  "Anderson. Clover Anderson."

  "Huh. Doesn't match the payment records," the officer in charge of the payment records responds, showing the screen. "Here, take a look. This is the payment record."

  The head officer takes a close look, raising an eyebrow. "... 'Chouko Kuroiwa'? That's who checked in?" Eyes squinting at the check-in records.

  "Chouko Kuroiwa? Huh..." Inspector Salvato remarks, scratching his chin. "Curious... that certainly is not any 'Clover Anderson'. What do you make of that?"

  "Mmm. Ain't a name I ever heard. Must be one of them Japanese folk," the head officer answers, sighing. "The phone's obviously stolen. If we find the records of a Clover Anderson, we'll be able to trace her vehicle, and—"

  "Wait, wait, look at this!" an officer exclaims in interruption. "Around the time the check-in occurred...!"

  The officers surround the screen, looking closely as they witness someone coming out of the driver's seat. A black-haired woman, body stained with blood, had exited the car and ran into the motel, entering Room 105.

  "Pardon me...!" Salvato speaks up, walking over and standing on the tips of his toes to catch a glimpse of the screen. His eyes lock on the camera footage as he looks over their shoulders. "Excuse me! Thank you!"

  The officers and the inspector are now taking a look at the woman, seeing any identifying features beyond that. They note that her hair is very long, tied into two twintails that were blowing and billowing behind her. She was, at the time, wearing some frilly doll-like outfit, a long-sleeved button shirt with a short skirt.

  The officers did note that the footage is grayscale, as this motel had old and traditional cameras. However, one look into her recorded eyes, and it's very noticeable that the eye color had a light shade to it. It could be an emerald green or sky blue...?

  "Hmmm. Interesting. If you do not mind..." the man tells them, resting his hand against the screen and taking a deep breath. "... I shall make this screen colorful."

  "... what the hell does that—"

  Immediately, the investigator presses his hand firmly against the screen, and a glaze of light coats the screen. The grayscale camera footage lights up into a vibrant, colorful display.

  This bewilders the head officer. "What in the...?!"

  "It means I will make this screen colorful," the investigator repeats, as he leans in close and... hmms. "Also, interesting. Seems familiar, doesn't it?"

  "... ah! Look, the Mercedes-Benz owner is... red-eyed!" an officer exclaims, pointing at the woman's face.

  "Indeed, indeed," the investigator responds, cracking a wide grin at the group of officers. "Please, record as much as you can. I shall keep the color on the screen, and explain to you how I'm doing this some other time."

  "If... If you say so. You, have an android send this data to the station!" the head officer orders, pointing at a different officer. "We're on the lookout for black-haired, red-eyed women! We got this girl if we cross-reference 'Chouko Kuroiwa' with every individual reported to have red eyes."

  "Uh, alright! I'll be on my—!"

  "Mmm. Hold on one moment," Salvato calls out to stop the officer from departing, having some words on his tongue. "Officer, I believe there is one detail that may help your search wonderfully, and I implore you to hear me out?"

  The head officer rolls his eyes. "You are a man who is somehow giving color to a gray screen, whatever. What is it?"

  "Have the records also scavenge through a 'Chouko Ashford' instead," the investigator instructs, giving a kind smile. "I believe that will provide far better results than investigating two fake names."

  "Fake names? Why... eh, whatever, your call..." the head officer responds. "You heard the investigator! Get going! And the rest of you, record everything you can!"

  A collective, idle nod at this man before they get back to work, the head officer continuing his order spree.

  With that, more information is recorded on the incident...

  ... and Investigator Salvato stares at the camera footage, staring at the woman in question.

  Chouko Ashford...

  He faces away from the officers, examining her closely while they are focused on her. His shadow-covered eyes squint and narrow at the footage, keeping his face concealed as he examines the screen closely. The kind smile on his face goes away, his mouth contorting into a frown for just a brief moment. He coldly stares at the screen and gets a good look at her face. Watching her closely, making sure to memorize each aspect of her.

  This is the face of a certain someone. He knows full well the identity of this woman, who exactly the police must look for. The woman who is being pursued by individuals of... interest.

  Investigator Salvato is, inherently, guiding law enforcement to do the individuals' jobs. Sending them in the right direction, having them get right on the tail of the woman. To have them pursue the Stalker, to guide them in the direction of Ashford.

  It's only a matter of time before she's cornered, with no way out but to repent...