In the eyes of those true conspirators, even a large-scale public safety incident like a "train derailnt" can be a ans to achieve their interests.
Gino was still sowhat naive.
In her eyes, the "flourishing" Damascus Camp actually fell into chaos after being managed by Nando, and the depictions of them in the news were mostly exaggerated.
The current revenue in the camp is nothing more than a small cake sliced off by Oulos.
Comparatively...
The Rift Party that rose in the small scope of the West District was not much different from robbers looting convenience stores on the street.
"It’s just like that, isn’t it?"
John took a sip of whiskey.
The liquid swirled, ice cubes clinking, condensation wetted his fingers, a complex layering echoed in his mouth, and the substance sank deep in his throat while the alcohol fus spewed out from his nostrils.
He suddenly paused.
"Wait a minute, how did we start talking about this topic?"
"Maya... oh shit, I forgot."
Jilead shrugged and added.
"Her husband managed to set up a shop, doing synthetic at barbecue and xican burritos delivery, got robbed and set on fire by the Rift Party. Oh, poor Gerry, he’s shot and lying in the intensive care unit, their daughter’s lip is torn and has a concussion, and the comrcial loan is due in a week..."
So they were the victims.
According to Jilead’s description:
Bone Shards would repossess the shop after the loan defaulted.
Gino showed concern,
"Oh my God, where’s Maya?"
"She wasn’t ho when it happened, heard that she escaped luckily by running to the bank to fill out forms, so she’s actually the most miserable. When she got back, the shop was burned to ruins, and the loan paper in her hand beca the biggest debt, with the hospital waiting to demand fees..."
Jilead shook his head and sighed.
John suddenly understood—why could the Rift Party expand so quickly?
It’s hard for ordinary citizens not to go crazy when hit with such a blow, and if soone hands them a gun and money, it’s like putting a cigarette in gunpowder, doing anything becos normal.
"Maya made the right decision, paid the hospitalization security deposit, then vanished into thin air."
"She ran away?"
John was the one who asked.
The other three glanced at him slightly surprised.
"It’s been a matter of two or three days, including the hospital, no one has seen her since, it’s obvious..."
Jilead didn’t know Maya’s identity.
He naturally assud that this woman, who had a history of "infidelity," couldn’t withstand the blow of life.
[Mission: What Makes a Ho]
[Reward: Bounty (Variable)]
Words suddenly flashed before John’s eyes.
He silently bowed his head, chewing ribs in the empathetic discussion of Gino.
[Mission Objective Updated]
[Find Maya. (Not Achieved)]
A sudden whiff of alcohol-laden and hormone-tinged fragrance breezed across John’s face.
He looked up.
Angelica, propping her chin on her hand and pouting, leaned her head diagonally above the dining plate.
"You’re going to ddle in this, aren’t you? Be honest, John, aren’t you curious to see what a married woman..."
She revealed a wicked smile, the lipstick a shade of brown.
A small part of the lipstick was imprinted on the rim of her cocktail glass.
John was speechless.
"Why would you think that?"
"Because it’s obviously a ss, thankless work, you’re wasting ti and money getting involved, Maya’s family can’t afford a rcenary of your level."
Angelica pulled her hand out of her sweatshirt, the manicured fingers stretched straight, tracing circles on the table as she spoke.
"Look at you, John, living in a high-end apartnt, driving a top-notch car, your lifestyle needs money, most rcenaries on the street are waiting for jobs, you need to maintain good relations with a few middlen, or as I said, go for quick cash, but you appear to be too willful..."
John nodded silently for a mont.
He seed to understand why Angelica transferred money to him.
"I’m not wronging myself, quite the contrary, I’ve always gone with what makes comfortable, and when I do, I sohow always encounter opportunities to make money in nooks and crannies, allowing to gradually live a good life."
John said, raising the ribs on the fork—the grease turned into gel locking in the seasoning powder, emitting a cold and pure aty aroma.
"Ah, I’m really envious, you’ve carved out a path."
Jilead raised his glass and chugged.
The gold ring on his hand touched the glass, emitting a dull glow in the bar’s corner.
"...Hmm, hm."
John chewed while preparing to stand up. "I’m barely making ends et, nothing worth boasting about in terms of assets."
"Damn, Bro, if you talk like that, I’ll ride away with the motorcycle in the basent right now!"
Jilead’s words carried a hint of sarcasm.
"Heh, I’m not comparing with you."
John’s gaze returned to Angelica.
This girl alone is worth tens of millions in vehicles.
She t John’s eyes, propped her chin, smiled lazily, and waved her hand.
"Then I’ll look forward to your next story. at’s on , consider it the price of admission for the audience."
"Huh!?"
Jilead looked up. "Just chatting with a girl can earn you a al; well, I have a pocketful of stories."
"You’re a damn garbage dumper."
Gino curled up in the corner of the sofa, showing a knowing look, and sumd up a kind of experience:
"Pretending to be cool and suave does indeed make chicks happy. Stay calm, describe dodging bullets as no big deal, casually drop a few big nas, treat cops and middlen as background props... ah, learned sothing; I’ll try it with my girlfriends."
Gino doesn’t like those with dicks.
John left the bar.
But just starting the job already hit a snag; finding Maya after her disappearance beca the first big challenge.
To be honest.
Finding a Special Affairs Bureau agent is harder than killing her.
John lacked crucial clues and could only ride his motorcycle to the hospital closest to Dan Street.
Gerry Pierce lay in a regular hospital room.
A respirator tube was inserted down his throat, his face covered in blood scabs, and the instrunts displayed his bio-information and vital signs.
His daughter, suffering a concussion, lay on the bed next to him.
John walked into the room effortlessly.
Even if one of them suddenly woke up, they probably couldn’t reveal Maya’s whereabouts.
[Mission Objective Updated]
[Check paynt information. (Not Achieved)]
Gerry and his daughter could still enjoy public hospital treatnt; Maya must be paying the subsequent fees.
John crossed the disinfectant-slling corridor and lightly knocked on the duty station desk to wake the nurse.
"I’m here to pay the arrears for room 429."
"Please wait a mont, uh, you still have a balance in your account; would you like to continue storing the hospital deposit?"
"Really?"
John feigned surprise. "You must have made a mistake. Help check which account is paying and by what thod..."
He only got halfway through.
The duty nurse was already looking up.
She wore a dark green uniform with the hospital logo, and her colorful eyes squinted slightly.
"Sorry, sir, I can’t help you."
John noticed her hand moving from the keyboard projection to under the desk — perhaps preparing to call security or sothing else.
"Heh."
After all, with such high fees, basic courtesy is a must.
John realized he might have offended her, so he waved his arm, initiating a close-range transfer using gesture locking.
His straightforward approach with money made the nurse a bit nervous.
But her prosthetic eye flickered, and after accepting the transfer, she remained silent as if contemplating a more tactful way.
John had no patience and offered a suggestion.
"What if it’s a system error? Like soone else’s money got credited to room 429’s account. You must verify the bill to avoid a potential patient-related dispute."
"You’re right."
The nurse inserted a data cable and began authorization operations.
John kept his hand in his pocket, feeling the cold tal of the gun grip through his coat.
This was a second plan.
Glad he didn’t need to use it.
During the wait, he started browsing the electronic billboards.
The regular wards were adjacent to the corridor; the environnt wasn’t great.
If other packages were purchased, one could be transferred to a better building, even enjoying luxury hotel-like treatnt.
John and Kuang Xin had once visited a noble whose lower body got blown to pieces.
The private clinic’s environnt was worlds apart from here.
John’s mind wandered as he waited.
Since stepping onto the streets, he had been injured multiple tis, yet felt estranged in such an environnt. Following the comrcialization of healthcare, ordinary citizens drifted further from public hospitals.
Prosthetic body clinics in alleys.
Operating rooms tucked in nightclub crevices.
Sterilization rooms in the community church pathways.
Such environnts felt more familiar instead.
"Uh, sir, this is a temporary account registered under Mr. Chezaba Jinez..."
The nurse delivered a piece of bad news.
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