Psycho Pass: Redemption (UPDATING)

13 (UPDATED)

"In Act III, Scene I, Hamlet pondered to be, or not to be: that is the question: whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them. To die: to sleep; no more; and by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; to sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; for in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause: there's the respect that makes calamity of so long life; for who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, the pangs of despised love, the law's delay, the insolence of office and the spurns that patient merit of the unworthy takes, when he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, to grunt and sweat under a weary life, but that the dread of something after death, the undiscover'd country from whose bourn no traveller returns, puzzles the will and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; and thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, and enterprises of great pith and moment with this regard their currents turn awry, and lose the name of action.

The city lights flickered disorderly on the horizon, while skyscrapers rose above them, enveloping them in the cold embrace of dawn. Touma Kouzaburou's eyes blinked softly until they closed, as the deep, serene voice of the man beside him seemed distant, as if the wind rustling through their hair carried away his words.

"Shougo-kun," Touma uttered, his voice barely a whisper, "you spoke of a painting as the expression of a painter's life. Do you believe my life deserves such an expression?"

"Yes," Makishima Shougo replied calmly, his voice resonating in the stillness of the night.

"Is it an honest opinion?"

"It's my sincerest opinion, Touma. My definitive opinion, no matter what may befall us or this world in the future."

Touma watched as Makishima paced the terrace of the building, his stance firm and assured, as if he were in harmony with the skyscrapers towering above them. The way he stood, with arms at his sides and gaze fixed on the horizon, left Touma slightly agape.

With Makishima's words lingering in the air, both turned their attention to their surroundings. The skyscrapers seemed to touch the sky, their lights twinkling like urban stars in the night. Below, in the lavish garden of a restaurant, Hashida Ryoji's body lay like a piece of art, defying sanity and morality with its presence.

The elevator was enveloped in an immense, gray cloud of smoke, its scent of tobacco suffocating those unaccustomed to its presence. As they waited, the rickety platform ascended at a snail's pace, its creaks echoing the building's neglect. The area, a decaying low-income neighborhood, was off limits to security drones.

"This place is a real downer. After we nab this guy, let's grab some beers, my treat. What do you say, Ko?" Sasayama suggested, his voice deep.

He blew a puff of smoke, forming abstract shapes in the air. Kougami coughed and brushed away the smoke with his hand, a move that elicited a chuckle from Sasayama. When their gazes met, they exchanged smiles.

"Focus on the job first," Kougami cautioned, eyes fixed on the elevator door.

When the elevator finally halted, the door opened with a brief tremor. Kougami stepped forward, followed by Sasayama, who sighed and dropped his cigarette without bothering to snuff it out. Discarded butts littered the ground, while empty alcohol bottles tumbled from overflowing trash cans. The stench of urine grew stronger as they navigated the alley, encountering only hidden figures—especially those carrying a dominator.