025: The Newcomer
John spent a week resting in his rental apartment, never stepping outside and relying entirely on online deliveries for his supplies.
He was determined to get some proper rest.
Gaia cell vials were expensive, but their healing properties were incredibly effective. Lately, John had been focusing on bodyweight training. Beyond cybernetic enhancements, physical conditioning was a crucial path to becoming stronger.
He was hanging from the pull-up bar in his living room, wearing a gray tank top, when he suddenly received a call from an unknown number.
[Unknown Caller]
[Is this John speaking?]
The caller’s profile picture showed an expensive suit with a prominent metal clip attached to a silk tie. His voice had been digitally masked, sounding like someone in his early thirties. At first, John assumed it was someone from the Damascus Camp looking for him to take a job.
But his intuition told him it wasn't that simple.
The caller’s tone was peculiar, laced with calculation, and his laugh felt unsettling. In Eden City, people like this were usually better left alone.
"Who are you?"
[They call me Tie-Clip. I’m a task broker for the West District. Your apartment happens to be within my jurisdiction.]
"Am I in your way?"
[Of course not, John. Heh, why would you think that? As a broker, it’s my duty to get to know every rising star and offer them opportunities to get ahead.]
[You’ve been quite active—working for Eden Watts, driving for the Damascus Camp... I really couldn't get a foot in the door.]
"Can't help it. No work, no food."
[How is the recovery? Injuries all healed? There’s a chance to stretch your muscles right now.]
"You have a job?"
[Eden City never runs out of business, but don't be so hasty. I want to make a good first impression for our initial contact... Hmm, why don't you check on that Isenberg of yours first?]
John’s heart skipped a beat.
He activated the Atlanta V-Net to pull up his vehicle's status—there was no response from the summon command; the system was offline and silent.
"Tch."
John frowned.
The Damascus Camp had reinstalled the vehicle's onboard system. When he first got the car back, he’d been too busy test-driving it to run a Blacklight sweep. Later, between renting the apartment and nursing his injuries, he had completely forgotten about it.
It turned out the stock Isenberg system still had vulnerabilities, or perhaps the street rats in this city were just too skilled. Either way, the onboard system was completely cut off; it had clearly been hacked and stolen.
John sighed and asked, "Do you know something about this?"
[Don't get agitated, John. It has nothing to do with me. Today, someone tried to fence stolen goods at a used car dealership in the West District. The loot was a Silver Knight 577, fully customized.]
[This car has been in the news quite a bit lately. The shop owner didn't want to get dragged into the mud, so he came to me to clear things up, hoping that people from Haven and the Damascus Camp wouldn't give him any trouble.]
"Returning it to the owner is fine, but where is the car?"
[Still with the thieves. When they realized they couldn't sell it, they just drove off in it. They’ve likely realized they messed with the wrong person and are currently panicking, trying to figure out what to do.]
"Alright, thanks for the heads-up."
[Don't be so fast, John. A few small-time crooks aren't worth me contacting you over.]
John caught a different scent in the air.
[I have a client, an executive at Isenberg. His son is going through a rebellious phase, hanging out with a bunch of hoodlums, insisting on experiencing "street life." My client asked me to keep an eye on him. And heh, guess what? Right after I hung up, the shop owner contacted me.]
John’s expression became difficult to manage.
"You’ve got to be kidding. That much of a coincidence? Your dear son decided to experience life by stealing from me?"
[Interesting, isn't it? His father is an Isenberg executive, so maybe he finds stealing that brand of car more comfortable...]
[You’ll certainly be able to get your car back, but the point is, if I hadn't made this call, the kid would likely be dead by your hand.]
"So, after all that, you’re here to fish him out?"
[It’s a bit more complicated than that.]
"How so?"
[My client wants to teach his son a lesson. He has already remotely disabled the boy's emergency medical protocol. You can teach him the cruelty of the world, provided you don't actually kill him.]
Tie-Clip waited a few seconds for John to process this.
[The vehicle damage will be covered by my client, and you'll receive an additional fee and hush money.]
"Fuck."
John chuckled. "People actually hire others to beat up their own sons these days?"
[Mission: Social Education]
[Reward: Tech Rifle (with chip), Payment]
He accepted the mission readily, changed his clothes, and headed out. During the slow descent in the elevator, he received another message.
[New Contact Added: Tie-Clip]
[Tie-Clip: The employer has prepared a gift for you. I’ve had it delivered to parking spot 29 beneath your apartment building. Also, I’ve heard rumors that the Black Gold Gang is looking for these little brats too. You’d better hurry.]
John hadn't been out for a while. His cybernetic eyes automatically adjusted to the light, preventing any glare. He walked through the open-air floor at a steady pace and entered the underground garage.
The parking spot where the Silver Knight had been was empty. Several members of the Black Gold Gang were patrolling nearby, armed and looking aggressive. Someone had caused trouble on their turf, and they were determined to make them pay.
John found spot 29. A pitch-black motorcycle was parked there.
An Isenberg Alloy RCH.
A high-end, factory-spec masterpiece. A touch-screen tempered glass panel was embedded in the fuel tank, displaying a coordinate that updated in real-time on the map.
Beside it sat a sealed case.
Inside was a brand-new precision rifle and six matching electromagnetic magazines.
[Weapon: Plato-Zebra GUB]
[Modules: Non-lethal Mode, Ballistic Calibration]
This tech rifle was equipped with an interesting chip. In non-lethal mode, as long as it wasn't fired at point-blank range, the bullets would actively avoid the enemy's vital organs, preventing a kill.
The employer's intent was clear.
The Alloy RCH roared with a deep, low-frequency rumble. The soul of a rider burned within him; the special exhaust design made the sound more restrained yet domineering.
John shot out of the garage ramp.
He took a sharp,极限 drift onto the main road, weaving through the heavy evening traffic. The corporate elites stuck in their armored luxury vehicles listened to the sound, which symbolized true freedom, and couldn't help but drift into reverie.
Tie-Clip was quite capable.
He could locate the Silver Knight, and he certainly could have sent his own people to bring the rebellious rich kid back, but he chose to leave the work to John—likely to take a cut from the employer's end of the deal as well.
He knew how to close a deal while earning favors.
Following the coordinates, John arrived at an unfinished construction site. Clear tire tracks led inside the perimeter wall.
The roar of the motorcycle had likely alerted them.
It was quiet inside.
[Take down the theft ring 0/6 (Incomplete)]
[Obtain information from inside the unfinished building. (Optional)]
John had picked up a few tricks recently; usually, missions provided multiple ways to proceed. Either you charged in headfirst, or you found a clever way to lower the overall difficulty.
John wasn't sure if the rich kid had any strange cybernetics installed, so to be safe, he climbed the wall to look for the facility's security cameras.
He skillfully pried open the electrical box and, following the data, located the security center.
John spent some time hacking into the feeds.
This time, he was equipped with brand-new cybernetic eyes, and the synchronized scanned information appeared directly on his retinas.
Several red data outlines were marked inside the facility.
They were hiding behind cover, peeking out, seemingly whispering to their companions nearby...
*Click.*
The rifle was chambered.