There's No Love In the Deathzone (BL) novel Chapter 515

Chapter 515: Chapter 508. Eye of the World

"No, you can’t get in," Naomi, who had been tasked to hold the fort of the operation in the borderland, faced the throngs of reporters in front of the Trinity headquarters gate with a cold face.

Naturally, reporters wouldn’t be reporters if they would back off just from a ’no’.

"Oh, come on--don’t be such a snob!"

"Hey, Missy! Don’t you know how beneficial it is to get an exposure from us?"

"That’s right! Or do you think Mortix and Trinity are immune to bad reputation?!"

Naomi’s eyes, who were cold and indifferent before, turned fierce. Hah! Did they think she would be afraid of such threats? Did these people think they were more scary than Bassena Vaski’s wrath--or worse; her Chairman?!

She looked at the group of reporters and snickered. "Go on, write what you want. Let’s see who will come out on top; your articles or our lawyers."

The reporters clicked their tongues in dissatisfaction. Naomi wanted to believe that it was enough to drive them out, but she knew these kinds of people; they might do something daring and enter the Deathzone illegally. Not that she cared if they died, but their company would spin it to be Mortix’s fault for negligence.

So she let out a sigh and told them. "Look; we already gave you a clear rule; bring the permit and we’ll let you in. So just go back and obtain the permit."

"But we have it here!" some of the reporters took out a piece of paper.

Naomi almost wanted to scoff, but held herself and put on her business face. "We clearly stated we need two permits; from the government, and from Trinity. Please adhere to the stated regulations, thank you."

She announced in a firm, final, uncompromising voice. She knew--they all knew--how easy it was to forge government permits or bribe an official to make them one. But they couldn’t do the same with Trinity, because no sane staff of the guild would dare to cross their Guildmaster.

"Ah, for fuck sake! You people charged so much for this! Do you think a small company like us can afford it?!"

And yeah--to get a permit from Trinity, they had to go through detailed contracts, get vetoed, and pay for it--which made it even more nonsensical to bribe since they could have just paid legally. Naturally, Trinity did not need any additional income. The fee would go toward the vehicle used to transport them inside and the tents they would use during their stay--so their expenses wouldn’t get mixed with the operational cost. _{ƒгeewebnovёl.com}

And to be honest, they did not need any exposure--the operation executive definitely thought it would just disturb them. But still...image had to be maintained somewhat, and the citizens were curious, so they had no choice but to oblige to some extent.

Thus, the strict regulation was made to ensure that only those with considerable clout and a certain degree of sincerity could come inside. The government would most likely permit just about anyone, so it was Trinity who held a tight rein.

"That’s right, that’s right--just scram, you low-level company," someone cackled and smugly waved two permits in front of everyone, incurring nasty glares from all around.

"Shut your mouth, San!" the person’s colleague hissed and sighed afterward, snatching the permits. "We’re just lucky, so stop getting so smug!"

"Oh, come on!" the man clicked his tongue. "Such a spoilsport..."

The colleague did not care however; it was true that they got the permit because of luck. She had once written a good article defending Luzein Ishtera during the whole debacle about the guide’s red-zone origin, and only because of that did Trinity give them a permit despite coming from a relatively unknown tabloid. The company had scrapped together all the money they could spend without hurting their finance, so she would not let this person screw this chance.

"Here are our permits," she told Naomi right away, before her colleague could incur more wrath from the other stranded reporters.

Naomi, who could see her agony at being partnered with such an obnoxious person, gave her a consolation smile and checked the permit right away. She couldn’t care less about the government permit, but the one from Trinity had a special way to get authenticated. She put the permit under a light to identify an official logo in the paper and over the Guildmaster’s signature. Only after making sure the permit was legit did she let them pass through.

"Please follow this person," she told the reporters, who let out a sigh of relief and urged her colleague to hurry.

They entered the outpost, which might as well be the second Borderland’s headquarters. The temporary buildings had become semi-permanent at this point, and a lot of the Unit’s members spent their time hanging out there with the staff--two years were enough to make them befriend each other.

But there was no time to look around, because they were immediately being ushered toward another gate; this one belonged to the real Borderland Headquarters. There, they were getting passed to another staff who led them to a big, eerie gate in the middle of the tall, thick, stone wall separating them from the Deathzone’s front porch; the grey marsh.

For a few seconds, they froze in front of the gate. Of course, they had seen the pictures of the Deathzone before, but seeing it with their own eyes was different, and the heavy pressure made it difficult to breathe.

"Visitors, please follow me carefully," the staff warned them, and they hurriedly followed the person toward one of the vans parked in front of the gate. Before opening the door, the staff turned toward them and gave each one of them a pouch. "Inside you will find your visitor ID, a mask, goggles, and a set of medication. The transport will begin in half an hour; please stay inside and avoid going around by yourself, or we have the right to revoke your permit. If you feel sick, please tell the driver."

After a series of instructions, the staff opened the door and told them to enter. There were already four people inside, who had been waiting for longer than they were.

Begrudgingly, San climbed inside and took a seat. "How strict," he clicked his tongue.

"Do you think it’s a theme park?!" his colleague, the exasperated reporter Leah, hissed again.