[Eden City - Source Formula Research Center]
Like most citizens of Eden City, John had no concept of high-tech facilities.
He gripped the steering wheel.
Above, patrolling drones swirled around.
The vast buildings, full of design, lood high above, distant from real life, filled with coldness and danger.
After parking, following into the Source Formula, this feeling grew stronger.
Its interior was like a base for shooting holographic advertisents—gray matte walls, high-precision electronic doors, corridors embedded with light strips, an exceptionally tidy hall, exactly like the ones seen in TV comrcials.
The do was high above.
The reception desk long.
The reception personnel remained expressionless.
Bismarck walked in, holding a severed hand, wearing a blood-stained shirt.
Everyone at the reception and passing by acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
Bismarck’s aura was formidable, while the "kidnappers" following him looked like a bunch of newly promoted interns.
The elevator floors rose rapidly.
"Keep your eyes ahead when you walk, don’t frown, and definitely don’t twist your neck. The Security Departnt is watching everything in the surveillance room. They’re very suspicious, and we’re all in the sa boat now, don’t ss it up."
Bismarck spoke softly yet forcefully.
Ding—
The elevator door just opened.
Most of the secrets of the Source Formula are underground.
Their corridors and laboratories expanded recklessly beneath the soil of the wasteland, stretching for several kiloters.
The cabin smoothly descended.
When John felt so discomfort in his eardrums, the door opened.
They entered a large connecting plaza, surrounded by various elevators, staircases, corners, pathways...
The lighting inside the Source Formula was quite dim, the walls lacked edges, exuding a sense of art while carrying an inexplicable psychological pressure.
[Testing... Retrying...]
A notification flashed before John’s eyes.
He was highly susceptible to drugs, so he sniffed carefully, detecting a fragrance in the air, making him excited after staying too long in the underground space, an unusual type of alertness.
Oulos had once said:
The company disperses biochemicals in the work environnt to stimulate the brain and enhance work efficiency, similar products are also used in so entertainnt venues.
John ca back to his senses, noticing that Bismarck was watching him out of the corner of his eye.
"Don’t get too high."
Bismarck caught his eye and chuckled faintly, appearing sowhat sinister.
[Mission Objective Update:]
[Accompany Bismarck for treatnt. (Unfulfilled)]
Bismarck needed to attend to his crash injuries first.
He led a few people towards the dical area, where company soldiers ard to the teeth began to appear.
John did not react much.
Here, underground, any conflict would an a life-and-death scenario. Without even an access card, his chances of escaping were slim.
Gino maintained a sullen face the whole ti.
It was evident she disliked being watched by corporate dogs.
Sisal Rope displayed mostly fear, with discomfort both in expression and action.
[Mission Objective Update:]
[Scan Security Information (Optional)]
John hesitated a mont, activated his prosthetic eye program, and glanced at a soldier at a stairwell entrance.
[Faction: Plato Security Departnt Employee]
Bismarck said this was a collaborative agency.
The security departnt mbers ca from several companies and included long-term contracted and temporarily hired personnel. When working at the Source Formula, they wore standard equipnt with the Source Formula emblem.
It was noteworthy:
The weapon calibers were not small, the configurations were highly complex, including even tactical helts and arm blades.
John had worked at Tiebang Logistics.
He knew best how the company economized on standard allocations, so when they spared no expense, it indicated importance.
What threats could there be in the research institute?
[Scan detected, no hacking signs.]
John received a notification.
The strong security personnel was staring him down.
His gray pupils shone with a tallic sheen, like a screw had been inserted into the eye socket.
"Soone always treats my reminders like bullshit."
Bismarck sneered, not waiting for John to answer, stopping in front of a tal sliding door.
"We’re here, ladies and gentlen."
[Source Formula - dical Services Area B3]
There were no doctors in the room.
Bismarck advanced himself, lying down on the examination chair in the center of the room.
The ceiling split open with a seam.
Detection equipnt projected deep green laser grids, spreading and converging on the examination chair.
The entire room began to twist like a Rubik’s cube.
The ceiling undulated.
More chanical arms extended, inserting needles into Bismarck’s body, and almost simultaneously, various complicated, real-ti updating data filled the walls.
"Don’t you need help?"
"Just sit and watch, you’ll realize there’s essentially no difference between dicine and science, don’t cause trouble, I... don’t have the strength... to speak."
Bismarck aid this sentence at Gino.
The latter frowned without speaking, her expression as sickening as if she had tasted spoiled mush.
Bismarck was fitted with a mask and anesthetized.
More chanical arms descended, and holographic warning signs prohibiting approach appeared on the ground.
Bismarck’s blood-stained clothes were cut and removed.
His arm was fractured, with multiple bone fractures throughout his body, internal bleeding, and more than twenty instances of prosthetic damage.
What followed was a delicate yet bloody surgery:
Replaceable organs were taken out from the slow-release liquid, flesh and bones dissociated, and ticulously arranged muscle fibers were inserted into prosthetic gaps...
"Ugh, damn, I can’t take it anymore."
Sisal Rope shivered at the sight of the bloody surgery, almost vomiting in the biochemical disinfection area.
"I’ll check out this damned place."
He pulled out a data cable, connected it to a nearby terminal, and logged onto the network as if he were at ho.
Gino folded her arms in silence.
John noticed—she was closely observing the surgery process.
[Talk about past events with Gino. (Optional)]
[Avoid small talk under surveillance. (Optional)]
"Are you okay?"
John expressed concern.
"I’m fine."
"You seem to really hate corporate dogs; I understand, not many people would like them. But you seem...more, you know, I don’t even know how to put it."
"..."
Gino remained silent for a mont.
"Do you know how Macao beca a boxing coach?"
The original owner of the Bandage Boxing Gym wasn’t Gino’s brother, but a senior mber of the Black Gold Gang, and Macao was just a young boxer.
Back then, the Eden City independence war had just concluded.
The Black Gold Gang had just started operating the underground boxing business.
Macao was a talented street kid; it didn’t take long before he made a na for himself in the octagon. It was then that he t Mr. Vito, who hadn’t yet beco the Speaker.
The tuition for Gino’s public university was largely paid with Macao’s blood money.
Until one day.
A company representative ca to them, promoting prosthetic bodies and new implants still in the experintal stage.
They offered an irresistible price.
But the damned prosthetic was essentially a half-baked product.
Macao’s career was ruined within three boxing matches, and the so-called trial contract was filled with legal traps.
The incident didn’t stir up any waves.
The product continued developnt, and even sales weren’t affected due to PR and iterative promotion.
Macao was ruined.
The people who believed the advertising were ruined.
"Vascular atrophy, moderate heart contamination, the lethal substances in the slow-release liquid nearly killed him."
Gino placed her hand on the gun as she spoke.
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