John was a bit surprised, to be honest, he quite wanted to experience it from a first-person perspective.
Alonna waved her arm, sending an invitation via body sense.
[Request authorization for eye data/confirm]
Black Light popped up a ssage without interception.
John’s vision changed drastically, similar to a cara switch experience:
The street scene unfolded before him. The AI system could identify and mark friend and foe over an imnse range, track targets remotely, and monitor the vital signs of all units.
Many inverted triangle icons appeared in John’s vision.
These were friendly caras and rcenaries.
Similar information on the overhead map was collected by AI from various battlefield spots.
"F*ck, this is aweso!"
John cut off the signal, returned the position to Alonna, and after leaving the target system, his vision beca vast and blurry.
"Honestly, I’ve never seen Eden City like this before."
Recalling the first ti he gazed at neon lights from the railing of Bolago Club, in exaggerated perspective shifts, he felt waves of excitent, sparking a desire to beco soone important.
Now John stood atop a super skyscraper.
The city, shrouded in industrial smoke and dust, appeared so pale, vehicles and living beings couldn’t even leave a clear outline.
He vaguely felt a sense of palpitations and dread.
Thud, thud thud.
A pair of black boots approached them, stepping over the bullet-holed concrete beam, causing a series of vibrations on the tal grid.
"How’s it, isn’t this big thing great!?"
Nando, wearing black sunglasses and holding a familiar cigar.
"Hahaha, long ti no see, John!"
"Ah, great to see you, welco back."
John shook his hand, pulling closer for a shoulder bump, the feel of muscle bundles felt like hitting a piece of high-density condensed rubber.
Images from Silver Port flashed in his mind — him dragging Nando, bloody and battered, from a laser-scorched pit, half of his arm and leg shattered back then.
But now.
Nando wore tactical gloves and a bulletproof vest, visibly more robust than before.
Even under the blazing sun, not a trace of sweat.
John knew how hard prosthetic surgery was to endure, he couldn’t help but admire.
"Not easy, right?"
"Yeah, more than half of my organs were damaged, now only a few are original."
Nando took off the sunglasses, lifting his clothes on arms and legs, revealing high-end prosthetics with cooling vents.
The Leader of Wanderers hired the best chanics and prosthetic doctors, rescued, tested, biologically adjusted; they not only pulled him back from the brink but transford him into a heavily modified body.
John was a distributor at Radiant Dust Farm.
Nando was the Leader of Wanderers, a fresh goods business partner, generously promising to take good care of Gerry and Maya for John.
[Unread ssage*1]
[Mr. John, your materials are loaded, the vehicle is parked at waiting area 950, quota remaining...]
Radiant Dust Farm sent John a ssage.
He bid farewell to Alonna and Nando, took the elevator back to the elevated level, and just found the parking when he saw a familiar black guy circling his Potsdam-U70.
Familiar muscle prosthetics, work pants.
John recognized Screwdriver from afar — the most aweso vehicle chanic at Damascus Camp.
"Stealing cars? Let teach you a thing or two."
"Haha, f*ck it, John, I’m the expert in vehicle-stealing... haven’t seen you for a while, you’re doing pretty damn well, huh~"
Screwdriver greeted John, chatting around the armored car, pointing towards the unloading area slightly farther.
A tall sign was erected there.
The steel fra hadn’t yet added a cover and neon tubes, below were rows of workshops.
Next to the building was a massive entity.
It was two stacked shipping containers, also Screwdriver’s private vehicle repair workshop.
His vehicle repair business had moved to the city.
Farm owners collaborating with Wanderers, also long-term employing large numbers of rcenaries, created a significant demand for vehicle repair, thus specially integrated resources forming a [Comprehensive Maintenance Station].
Resources were supplied directly by the manufacturers, not open to the public.
"But you’re an exception, we share life-and-death bonds, Damascus Camp always cherishes this friendship, later if your ride has problems, you can co here, get the best parts at cost price."
[Street reputation increase, black market unlocked new service.]
While they were talking.
Doo-doo-doo——
A long line of connected tal carts passed in front of them through the elevated layer, with flashing yellow warning lights at the forefront, and the carts were piled with scrap parts and firearms.
The end of the carts featured two employees in protective suits.
[Faction: High-Temperature Tube Cleaning Company]
"Who are these guys?"
"Cleaning company."
Screwdriver explained to John with his arms crossed.
Conflicts often break out around the Radiant Dust Farm, and the municipal cleaners certainly don’t want to be responsible for the wreckage and blood, so the business of cleaning battlefields is handed over to professional cleaning companies.
"Sounds a lot like ghouls."
"Mm-hmm, pretty much."
Screwdriver noticed John’s interest and elaborated on the topic.
Ghouls are a bunch of scumbags who sucker-punch people.
They treat living people as walking funds cards, providing over sixty percent of the goods for the black market and prosthetic clinics. Their cleanup thods are nothing more than incinerators and landfills.
[High-Temperature Tubes] represents a legitimate company.
Factories, clubs, and upscale stores are potential clients. Should any robberies or violent incidents occur, you would need a professional cleaner to take care of the gore and blood, wouldn’t you?
That’s their bread and butter.
"I’ve heard that there are scavengers among rcenaries, introduced through interdiaries, specifically cleaning up for the rich and powerful, like when a millionaire’s sex doll dies in the mansion, or a competitor is shot during a business negotiation and they don’t want to go public yet need the scene cleaned..."
"Wow, sounds like tough work."
"Mm-hmm... where there’s demand, there’s a market. Just trying to make a living."
Screwdriver quickly patched up the bullet holes on the carriage for John, hopped off the cargo hold, and fist-bumped him goodbye.
The way back was very smooth.
John helped move the raw materials into the basent cold storage of the shop. The decoration was relatively simple, the light strips weren’t very bright, and the refrigeration pipes had a layer of difficult-to-clean pale yellow frost; the tiles were slick if you weren’t careful.
Today’s escort task was officially over.
"From now on, you’ll be on your own for restocking. I’ll co by and see during the grand opening tomorrow. To be honest, there is profit, but I have no clue how much."
"Since we’re on the topic, you need to be ntally prepared."
Gerry tried to lower the boss’s expectations.
He and Maya had started from roadside stalls and knew that a physical store isn’t as glamorous as imagined.
The wall-stacked sealed boxes were a good start.
But fresh food on the street is a luxury item. The consumption threshold is too high for the citizens living on the edge, plus protein paste and cheap fast food have beco habits...
Who can say for sure?
Gerry had no retreat left.
He feared the shop’s poor sales would lead John to give up, causing him and Maya to lose their last hope.
John noticed Gerry’s concerns.
"Heh, it’s alright, this isn’t my main gig."
He patted Gerry’s shoulder, greeted Maya, grabbed his work coat, and left the restaurant.
[Series Task Operator: Preparations in Front of the Store [Completed]]
[Rewards: Vehicle [Potsdam-U70], Shop Operations, Extra Share from Radiant Dust Farm [Angelica], Remuneration [ECPD].]
"Phew~"
John lit a cigarette, straddling his motorcycle.
This job was more troubleso than anticipated, with a higher level of danger. Breaking it down, though, he gained funds, a vehicle, and networking.
Night fell.
Eden City, brightly lit, seed ablaze.
Colorful holograms and advertisents were running at full power, bars and clubs turned up the volu, and the vehicles of street racers and gang mbers roared down the reflective streets...
The shadows in the building’s crevices weren’t dark enough.
The shadowbox at the alley’s end carved out John’s silhouette, the red dot flickered, layering heavy shadows on the wet ground.
"Hmm?"
[Contact - Oulos Grenada [Video Call]]
A suddenly popped-up video window blocked the smoke.
Oulos sat cross-legged on the sofa in a lavishly decorated hall.
She raised a champagne glass to hide her lips, occasionally tilting her head to look around, with streams of data reflecting in her pupils.
[Co to the coordinates to pick up.]
[Bring a gun.]
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