[I have a custor who loves small animals and wants to expand their collection. But you know how it is, these days it’s hard to get any live creatures except cockroaches. After the birds started going extinct, most creatures had to be smuggled illegally and then transported across cities to get them.]
The tie clip patiently explained.
[You’ve seen the risks outside the city, just look at Damascus Camp. But for this job, you’ll have to work alone, because I’m contacting their archenemy, a smuggling Exile leader nad Ironfoot Kelp. Initially, our business was going well, and the goods had reached the Eden Suburbs for ...]
"And then what happened?"
John knew there was a twist.
[Did you hear about the cyber psychosis warehouse explosion in the city a couple of days ago?]
"F*ck, why is everyone linked to this ss."
[Heh, a lot of people are involved in this. Kelp is deeply entangled with these Shark Coins, and both Plato and Gaia Cells have put a bounty on his head, so, you understand?]
"You sold him out to the company!?"
[I neither confirm nor deny it. Although the deal with fell through, Kelp escaped with his life. The fact the company soldiers couldn’t kill him is their problem, and he survived should make him thank on his knees.]
"Doing business on both sides again, huh? That’s f*cked up. You ssed him up and now you’re turning around to make deal?"
[Eh, it’s not that bad. Kelp has goods he can’t use. Instead of letting them rot, why not find another buyer to offload them... right?]
John said nothing.
He even considered hanging up the phone.
[Don’t worry, John, I changed the channel to contact the other party. Just don’t ntion my na during the trade, who could guess? Just disguise yourself as another buyer who loves small animals, and smuggle the goods into the city smoothly.]
A sigh ca through from the tie clip’s side.
[The goods are in the hands of Kelp’s lackeys, already investigated. Not many of them can fight; if you must, just take them by force. Rest assured, whatever ans you use to get the goods, I won’t take back the Funds Card, and you’ll be paid separately.]
The tie clip sounded confident, but if you truly believed his bullshit, there wouldn’t even be bone fragnts left.
He seed to think sothing was off with this job too, so he changed his tone to a rather helpless voice.
[Out of my control, John, my client has connections everywhere and can absolutely help you get the list you want.]
"..."
The call ended.
[Mission: Little Cutie]
[Reward: Compensation (variable)]
John packed up the parcel and tossed it into Silver Rider’s passenger seat, revved up the engine, and left the underground garage on Dan Street.
Gang mbers were active on the outer ring road.
The frequency of police vehicle patrols far exceeded before, and the crackdown on gangs and Exiles was unprecedented, with bureaucratic parasites who wouldn’t even care about street racing now intercepting and exchanging fire on the highway in daylight, clearly due to so internal bounty.
John slled sothing fishy, not sure what the corporate dogs were worried about.
[Mission Objective Updated]
[Proceed to the trade location. (Not Achieved)]
He drove past the checkpoint, leaving the outer ring road, speeding towards the desolate suburb outside the city.
The new windshield has sensory adjustnt, so there’s no worry about diffuse reflection burning the eyes.
Yellow dirt and gravel occasionally brushed against the car’s surface, but the abrasion-resistant coating spared him worry about damage, and the modified car wasn’t so delicate—any slight issue could be handled by the maintenance package.
[Eden City Suburbs - Old Ferti National Road]
John saw an abandoned factory building in the distance:
An old hardened greenhouse encapsulated the old warehouse, all equipnt powered down, tal fraworks and unremoved clutter looted clean, and none of the yellowish glass was intact; burn marks and household debris scattered around.
Silver Rider left the main road.
Tires made a scraping sound on the gravel road, crossing a pathway of water in the middle of the factory area.
Two gun-wielding figures erged from the building’s walls.
They held kinetic energy rifles, wearing leather jackets, bare-chested, chests tattooed with sexually suggestive patterns and incoherent symbols or words.
[Faction: Exile [Ironfoot Kelp]]
The sentries began firing in warning.
John wasn’t a lost Wanderer, nor so playboy out for a romp.
He ignored the gunfire and continued driving inward.
Near a sandpile were abandoned containers, broken walls, and a wooden scaffold isolating a pathway out of the water, with what seed like a group of people gathering inside.
A hefty van blocked the middle of the road.
A half-burned fabric sofa and various disassembled wooden fragnts scattered around.
John felt several stares the mont he exited the car.
From all directions erged a bunch of Exiles, sporting bizarre hairstyles, with a high coverage of prosthetic body modifications, ard mostly with Ron Saw and Kamille-brand weapons, predominantly submachine guns.
[Mission Objective Updated]
[Retrieve the trade goods. (Not Achieved)]
When John stepped away from the car with the package, a mission prompt appeared in front of him, along with at least three gun barrels aid at his face.
He restrained the impulse to draw the Gambler and kinetic energy rifle.
The lead Exile walked up, scrutinized John, and said, "You’re Nazmi Eisener?"
John’s cheek twitched a couple of tis.
The Exiles shared his thought: who would have such a peculiar na?
"That’s none of your concern. Just give the money."
"Bring it."
The Exile nodded slightly.
His jawbone was replaced with an implant fitted with filters, no wonder his voice sounded muffled like buried in sand.
John stared at him. "Where’s the stuff?"
"Hand over the money first, we’ve already been played once."
The Exile showed displeasure, eyebrows missing, eyes looking vulturine.
[Trade with the Exiles. (Optional)]
[Take out the Exiles 0/15. (Optional)]
"What’s it got to do with ? That’s not how business works. Produce the goods, or let them rot here along with your corpse in this godforsaken place."
Shhh shhh shhh—
Sound of guns raised echoed around.
But John approached the lackey, towering over him, staring into his eyes.
Other than threats, he’s using tactics.
His CQC chip contained a close combat skill for taking hostages; if a fight broke out, this guy would be his at shield against gunfire.
The opponent cowered, nodded his chin for others to lower their guns.
John followed him to the back of the van, opened the rear cover and saw a massive glass tank, packed to the brim.
Turbid liquid stirred, microbial algae and various debris drifted by in front of him, when suddenly a blood-red maw enveloped his face!
Bang!
The entire van shook.
"WTF?"
John’s hand was already on the handle. "This motherf*cker is called Little Cutie!"
"What kind of... thing is ’little’?"
The lead Exile looked disdainfully at John. "This thing weighs over four hundred pounds. Where’s the cuteness? To cram it into the glass case, we even used special tranquilizers. Did you see the fingers in the water, tell , what do you plan to do with this?"
"Cook it and eat it."
"F*ckin’ squid, where’s the money!?"
The Exiles were running out of patience.
Their crew looked gaunt, evidently suffered badly during the last trade.
Several addicts instinctively twitched their necks.
Reviews
All reviews (0)