Chapter 48: Chapter 48: Righteousness Breeds Wickedness
Nothing happened in the corridor.
The new residents were all sensible and friendly.
John walked up to the roller shutter door, raised his hand, but noticed the power strip was unlocked. Looking at the nearby camera, he saw it was merely moving its focus, not activating the scan.
He cautiously slowed his movements, put away the short-barreled gun, and took out a silenced pistol.
Whoosh——
The roller shutter door was lifted up entirely.
John lowered his stance to ensure he could see inside at the first opportunity.
The anticipated ambush did not appear.
The shop was still in the same bird-like state as it was when he left last time, familiar metal shelves and long tables, row upon row of second-hand shelves, bullet holes in the wall on the right-hand side, damp and faded posters of the Noise Band, strings of lights and wires hanging halfway down.
The rock music in the stereo continued to blast.
The cabinet propped its feet up on the table.
He took down a Super Sensing Chip player, with a greasy mohawk hairstyle on the metallic mask.
The cabinet looked suspiciously at the gun in John’s hand: "You finally planning to rob me?"
"F*ck you, the surveillance didn’t move, I thought you were taken out." John gestured at him fiercely with the muzzle twice.
"My surveillance has a little program that wakes me up when a customer arrives, and you, being a VIP customer, skip the scan and the door lock automatically unlocks... Hmm, you know, everyone’s got secrets, some clients aren’t convenient to search."
The cabinet picked up a rag from the table and wiped his hands, throwing a flirtatious glance at him. "Especially for a new star on the street like you, got to have some privacy, right?"
John shrugged his arm, tucked the gun away, and frowned again.
There was an indescribable stench in the room.
"F*ck, cabinet, you’ve got some nerve... were you sitting here just now, playing with the Super Sensing Chip?"
"Obviously."
"Damn, some reckless kid should’ve rushed in here and shot you."
"Hey, why so harsh, I’m the best second-hand dealer on Oil Drum Street, you know I’m under a lot of pressure."
The cabinet lit a cigarette and patted the metal table. "This is my livelihood, buddy. I don’t trust takeaway, and the first time you came here you were selling smut."
John didn’t plan to banter, directly tossing the mechanical key over.
"I just finished a deal, have some miscellaneous stuff that needs to be recycled, there’s a Calormen parked under the nearest bridge at the entrance, throw it to the scrapyard."
"Yes, sir!"
The cabinet saluted by running two fingers across his forehead, his cyber-eye flashed a couple of times, then tapped on the keyboard lightly.
The surveillance footage began to switch.
On the screen, a camera zoomed in, just enough to see the Calormen van and the vagrants and miscreants wandering around it.
John didn’t hurry to leave, turned to ask about his subdermal armor.
The cabinet pursed his lips and shook his head: "Buddy, you know my rules, odd-numbered days for selling, even-numbered for buying. But you’re a VIP, I’ll let you pre-order, tomorrow I’ll have a nice piece delivered to Dan Street Apartment."
"Is it a prosthetic body?"
"NOPE, it’s a design diagram for a clothing module."
Subdermal armor is a milestone technology of the Cyber Era, causing unimaginable disruption to the traditional bulletproof vest market.
But after a brief chaos, people gradually realized they could have both.
Material technology kept innovating amidst internal competition among companies, and in addition to traditional ceramic plates and high molecular fibers, new layers such as biological fat and new silicon carbide were introduced.
Modification and upgrade are eternal themes.
Now, firearms, flesh, even the strength of nerves and cognitive abilities can be enhanced, so sellers naturally reserve module slots on armor.
The cabinet was talking about a high-tech layer.
He mentioned these things came from Plato’s Warehouse that got bombed a while ago—as a professional dealer, you definitely seize the chance to get rid of stolen goods when you hear the wind, thanks to strong connections, he got some good stuff.
John didn’t respond, leaning on the table, watching the footage on the monitor.
"Were there always so many people here before?"
The cabinet was handling the junk on the computer, casually responding.
"They all flooded in recently, respectable street jobs are precious, more people are like you, trying to make a way in this sh*t hole... Some joined gangs, some take odd jobs, those with good foundations become new faces at clubs and alley corners, and finally, the petty thieves."
"I just came from the Black Engine Restaurant, things have been unstable in Europe lately?"
"Should you ask when it was ever stable? Company conflicts of interest, the same every year."
The cabinet’s tone was flat.
"The Ghouls are the most affected, really. Homeless people, in their eyes, are freebies... Lately, these bastards have been eating well. Even some newcomers, finding it hard to survive, have also joined in the muggings and kidney-cutting activities."
He pointed at the playback device on the table.
"Several groups have popped up in the black market recently, filming heavy scenes, several of my old customers haven’t shown up again, I suspect it has to do with them."
"Are you investigating?"
"Ha, do I look like a saint? This is Eden City, John, when someone turns over and steps on the city’s head, someone else will be drained in the sewers, nothing to complain about."
John remained noncommittal.
He also knew how tough the world was, but continually upgrading and modifying himself was to find clearer directions.
John didn’t press further, saying lightly, "Alright then, call me if you need anything."
"John, you know, I always said Genius, that kind of person who is too righteous would suffer from being too soft eventually, and your smartness lies in realizing the importance of armor and weapons."
The cabinet continued to prop his legs up, adding before John left the door.
"No one will comment if you practice shooting Ghouls, but don’t think of yourself as a hero, humanity’s bullets are deadly, no technology can defend against that. At most, crush a few cockroaches within your reach, I’ll write an anonymous letter to the police, have them issue you an award."
John flipped him the bird and turned to leave.
[Eden City - East District, Green Road Street]
The neon signs became clear, the muscle men and hot chicks on the ads posed in all sorts of enticing positions.
Buzz, buzz, buzz——
The Eisenberg Alloy RCH slowly decelerated and finally stopped at the traffic light.
John was on his way back to the apartment.
His legs stretched out, stepping on the prohibited rolling projection, sitting upright, expressionlessly enjoying the city’s night view.
The navigation coordinates of the motorcycle directed straight ahead.
[Temporary Mission - Temptation (57s↓)]
[Rewards: Unknown illegal chip, contraband, cash]
A temporary mission suddenly popped up in front of John.
A number next to the title was decreasing consecutively.
He squinted his eyes, noticing that the floating numbers overlapped with the traffic light time, easily linking to the vehicles around waiting.
John looked around.
He noticed the driver of the van next to him seemed to have an evil look in his eyes.
[Name: Osama Blanchard]
[Faction: Ghoul]
When John looked over, the guy happened to retract his gaze, there was another person sitting in the passenger seat, both looked suspicious.
He could vaguely hear the sound of metal clinking.
Maybe it was a kinetic micro SMG, or a street spray gun, or some kind of metal blade imbedded in an arm.
[Mission Target Update]
[Eliminate Ghouls 0/5. (Not Achieved)]
John looked away, fingers swiping across the engine screen, making adjustments in the cruise parameter interface.
The red light began to flash.
The cars behind started moving agitatedly.
The Ghoul driver thought John didn’t want trouble and kept his hands firmly on the wheel, ready to start.
The green light turned on.
Bam——
The front windshield of the truck turned bloody red.