They thought of themselves as unlucky bastards caught in a robbery.
If any one of them had acted more aggressively, or seen the gun John had hidden inside his clothes...
The outco would have been different.
The punks wouldn’t have felt lucky to escape with their lives.
Because they couldn’t foresee the future, no one could, so every unfortunate soul in the world has to take responsibility for their choices.
John’s mind wandered aimlessly.
He tried to focus, sorting through clues, to avoid fainting.
The intelligence provided by Bone Shards was limited but precise.
The Gaia Cells had beco a focal point of the investigation, not only regarding research related to basic physique, but also Welch’s remains beca a direction.
Before he could pass out, John sent the intel to Oulos.
He left the casino area and returned to the rundown Calorn Truck, retrieving the injectors given to him by Eden from the passenger seat.
[dication: Combat Ergency (High-Efficiency Type)]
[Manufacturer: Gaia Cells]
The injector made a hissing sound.
John’s eyes widened, he gasped for air, feeling like his heart was about to leap from his chest to his brain.
He wiped away the nosebleed and tears and started the vehicle.
The dication was ti-sensitive, and he needed to find a proper dical facility.
[Mission Objective Update]
[Head to Bolago mber Hospital. (Optional)]
[Head to Harbor Company. (Optional)]
[Head to East District Underground Clinic. (Optional)]
John regained his ability to think and steered the vehicle, already on his way to the East District Comrcial Street.
The mission prompt gave him three options.
Each location offered different dical aid.
John instinctively dismissed the Bolago Club—backed by Jingke Heavy Industry, managed by the Black Gold Gang’s high ranks, nobody there could be trusted.
Harbor Company had plentiful resources.
John didn’t want to be further indebted to Eden; on the other hand, he didn’t really know Harbor Company.
When the mission prompt appeared, he made his choice.
Ryan Randall was the doctor John trusted most in Eden City.
[Eden City - East District Underground Clinic]
With the gang wars reigniting, the West District was in chaos.
The East District Comrcial Street beca a safe haven, with its surface and underground nightlife simultaneously experiencing a spike.
Nocturne Bar surrounded the comrcial area.
It hosted a variety of vice industries, high-end clubs, Super Sensing Chip Entertainnt Center, twenty-four-hour shopping malls.
As John drove into the East District, he saw the White Motorcycle Gang’s patrol revving their engines to assert their presence.
The intersections and stairs were crowded with luxury cars and beautiful won.
The young people displayed personalized prosthetics, flamboyant clothing, laughing wildly amidst hallucinogenic smoke and chilled drinks.
John found a random place to park.
The East District was filled with hidden or exposed tunnels.
John descended the concrete stairs and traversed the passage with wall lights, leading to the most prosperous underground world in Eden City.
A comrcial zone mingled with daily expenses and black market transactions.
The forces behind them were diated by Raphael.
The largest auto sales center in the East District was their legitimate business.
"Cough, cough, ugh..."
John’s nasal mucosa was stimulated by the warm, pungent air.
Ceiling lights were fully lit.
The old pipes and parking contours were clearly illuminated.
Besides the patrols employed by Raphael, there were nurous ordinary citizens, street singles, new gang recruits, rcenary squads...
The gang wars made the black market business boom.
So sharp-scented, well-credentialed leaders had started taking orders from old clients.
So tasks required finding new teammates.
Weapon dealers began releasing new items and taking custom orders.
All-knowing intelligence brokers needed to reconnect their channels.
...
Everyone was kept busy.
The wealth of war turned the entire city bloody yet filled with opportunity.
John pushed through the bustling crowd and oppressive heat, his wounds going from itchy pain to icy numbness, his body on the verge of collapse bringing an odd neuralgia, until even breathing beca difficult.
He lost balance, crashing into the stall of a corner rock singer.
"F*ck you, bastard!"
"Look what you’ve done!"
"Get the hell away from !"
...
Curses and shoving ensued.
John ignored them, pushing through the crowd, continuing his journey.
The stalls that "bred" in the crevices of the buildings were crowded with people, their prosthetic eyes flashing in the smoke, gazes hotter than freshly fired shells.
Bang, bang, bang.
John used all his strength to knock on the clinic’s door.
The rcenaries and regular custors who saw John collapse at the clinic’s entrance all showed expressions of indifference.
A sound of slightly dragging footsteps drew near.
"...Oh, damn it, I’m almost used to this."
Ryan appeared at the door, crouched down to check John’s vital signs, then sighed a little regretfully.
He tore off his rubber gloves and dragged John’s feet back into the clinic.
A few minutes later.
He appeared at the door with a mop and bucket, cleaned up the bloodstains, and hung up a closed sign.
Thud.
The shadowless lamp lit up.
John lay naked on the surgery chair, eyes vacant, plasma tracing a clear dotted line on his face.
The drugs made his consciousness hazy and confused.
Every ti John awoke, he saw the doctor with a changed mask and gloves, and the chanical arms dangling from the ceiling were also different.
The surgery seed very lengthy.
John’s injuries were mainly concentrated in his limbs.
Igdrasir’s strength was high, protecting his heart and other vital organs, but one of his arms had been crushed by "Big Ghost" at Silver Port, later replaced with a [Glider].
This ti, it suffered severe distortion during the confrontation with Longchuanze.
The doctor had to sever the entire prosthetic, reconnect the muscle bundles, and also deal with burns and implants.
Dozens of drugs were injected all over John’s body.
"The field doctor’s skills are really professional."
Steel rods pierced through John’s thigh, the part of the prosthetic extending up from the foot needed replacent, and the arterial damage was severe. Without Eden’s ergency treatnt and dication assistance, he would have died on the road.
The difficulty of these surgeries wasn’t too high for Ryan.
What was truly fatal was John’s brain damage.
This was an irreversible injury caused by Black Light’s side effects, and it was also evidence of his cheating death.
[Eden City-East District Underground Clinic]
John gradually awakened from his coma.
There was a tube in his throat, his eyelids felt incredibly heavy, as if he had lost all sense of ti and space.
The hospital bed was sowhat cold.
The sll of disinfectant and vomit drifted around.
In the dim room, a sign made of light tubes was glowing.
The wall-mounted TV broadcasted the latest progress of municipal construction, and the host enthusiastically praised the Raqi Group’s contribution to the city’s reconstruction.
The gang war was indeed reigniting.
The lives of ordinary citizens had beco even more difficult.
Experts on the death lottery were advising gamblers to let their imaginations run wild; today’s news broadcast casualty numbers broke records again.
ECPD’s duty pressure was increasing.
Many officers were experiencing overwork symptoms, lanting that they hadn’t received the basic guarantees promised by the council, and even went on strike under union organization...
"You’re awake?"
Ryan appeared in John’s line of sight.
He helped remove the tube from his throat and adjusted the proportions and components of the dication.
"Really unexpected, I thought you were going to sleep until you died."
The doctor lifted John’s eyelids and waved a flashlight.
"What’s this number? Hm, the prosthetic eye sensitivity is normal, biological consciousness is within standard units, it’s unclear if you’ve recovered the ability to think..."
John felt completely drained.
He raised his new arm and squeezed it.
This was a brand new Rapid Runner, higher in specs than the previous one, but it wasn’t covered with synthetic leather, the tal structure exposed to the air, feeling like a surgical modification left unfinished.
"How long have I been sleeping... ugh!"
John felt bile rise to his throat, holding the bed rail, he vomited, and both arms were trembling.
"Half a month."
Ryan’s gaze was very calm.
John also realized sothing.
"Am I dying?"
"Yes, didn’t you know already? Nothing new here."
The doctor pulled off his hospital gown, pointing at the dication tube bulging near his heart.
"This thing helps share the pressure on your heart, the other end extends from your neck to the back of your head, and there’s a display on your wrist."
John turned over his palm.
The end of the ballistic co-processor embedded a small screen, with a breathing light gently flashing, like a vintage digital watch.
"What does this an?"
"The drug concentration, it’s also your life countdown."
Dark green numbers were continuously decreasing.
John watched for a while, feeling his heartbeat accelerate a bit.
"How much longer?"
"Ten days."
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