004: A Complete Transformation

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[Shop - Black Engine Diner]

John had nowhere else to go, so he stayed at the diner. Gnaeus let him use the washroom and a cot on the condition that he help wash the dinner shift's glassware. When John offered to pay rent, the owner replied:

"Your new life has only just begun, and you'll find plenty of ways to spend your money. If you can trade your labor for what you need on these streets, don't waste a single credit."

Night fell.

John took a long, refreshing shower. The high-pressure water was intense, scrubbing away the dried blood and the lingering stench of the landfill. The scenes from the black clinic kept flashing through his mind...

The burst fire sprinklers.
The remains of bodies scattered across the floor.
The sizzling, flickering circuits.

He wiped the steam from the glass. His reflection looked both familiar and strange: short brown hair, a high bridge of the nose, and slightly sharp brows. The arrogance cultivated by the Corporation had been ground away by the brush with death, leaving behind a look of steely resolve.

John found an oil drum behind the diner, burned his company-logo-branded clothes into ash, and used the flames to light a cigarette. He stared blankly at the neon glow in the distance. The cold, black shadows outlined the silhouettes of towering skyscrapers.

"Hello, Eden City."

...

John rose early and headed toward the city center along the perimeter road. There were many storefronts lining the boundary where the drones patrolled. They sold clothing, shoes, hats, and updated their stock periodically. If you had the credits, you could also buy firearms, body armor, or even the implants popular on the Net.

The Corporation controlled the e-commerce platforms, with drones delivering goods twenty-four hours a day and real-time calculation software allowing for virtual try-ons. Physical shops barely survived unless they skirted the law.

John bought a shirt and trousers and carefully compared the weapons at a few shops—the prices were lower than those in the cupboard, and the guns were of poorer quality, but the armor was interesting.

[Equipment: Concealed Bulletproof Vest]
[Description: An improved model by Heiti Industries; the king of cost-effectiveness.]

A description hovered before John's eyes. He bought it and wore a loose windbreaker over it, making it easy to switch identities between a respectable citizen and a street thug.

Fashion in Eden City was incredibly free and highly inclusive. Two types of people wore particularly exaggerated clothing. One was the bottom-feeding, brainless thugs. The other was the big shots with influence; their clothes were often customized and modified to meet specific needs, featuring high-tech components and rare materials that could boost their combat effectiveness.

If you were lucky enough to take one of them down... aside from taking their wealth and weapons, don't forget to strip them of their invaluable clothing—provided, of course, that you survive.

Eden City was a vast and complex criminal metropolis. Many stories and stolen goods were hidden in its corners. If you were diligent in exploring streets, buildings, and underground passages, you might stumble upon abandoned or lost contraband.

However, these clothes carried risks. If you didn't know what kind of blood debt or criminal case was tied to a piece of loot, don't just put it on, or you might end up catching a bullet.

The job Gnaeus introduced was related to this. John was headed to meet a fence who specialized in collecting and cleaning second-hand clothing.

[Objective Updated: Go to the designated location, use Gnaeus's name, and deliver the packed cargo outside the city for the camp director to sign off on. [Incomplete]]

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The text in John's mind shifted according to the situation.

[Oil Barrel Street - Intersection]

As soon as John approached, he smelled a pungent, burnt odor; a fierce shootout had taken place in the abandoned industrial zone. The ground was a mess, and fires were burning everywhere.

"Lost?"

A hard object pressed against John's back. The silenced pistol at his waist was snatched away by someone.

John couldn't help but mutter, "Damn it, why is it that every time I make a trade, I get a gun pointed at me!?"

The attacker stepped into view. John first noticed her weapon.

[Weapon: Rum Electromagnetic Short Cannon - VI Single Shot]
[Module: No Hacking Module]

She pulled back her hoodie. She had blonde hair styled in a slicked-back cut, flaxen skin, and a pair of glowing cobalt eyes that swept over John's entire body.

[Scan detected, no signs of hacking.]

John had seen his fair share of things at Iron-Bound Logistics. The woman spoke coldly, her figure was tall, and she moved in total silence. The black implant in her palm was definitely high-end. A standard killing machine.

John held up his hands, expressionless, and said before she could fire: "Gnaeus sent me here to deliver the cargo."

"Are you John?"

A battered second-hand dealer stepped out. After confirming John's identity, he said to the armed woman, "Elona, he's the driver."

The crisis averted, John retrieved his gun.

"So, what happened here?"

"You're late," the dealer sighed, shaking his head. "The cargo you were supposed to deliver was snatched by a group of Exiles."

"Why would they rob second-hand clothes?"

"They were after the truck. I modified the sound system, and I only played one piece of 20s trash rock before it attracted those lunatics." The dealer kicked an oil drum. "Damn it, bad luck!"

The woman named Elona didn't speak. She turned to inspect the scene, her cybernetic eyes calculating as she scanned the tire tracks.

John jutted his chin toward her. "And she is?"

"Elona, War-Mother of the Damascus Camp, and your employer. You were supposed to drive this shipment of clothes to the new camp outside the city. Now that the goods are stolen, she's here to fix the problem."

As he spoke, she walked over.

"You have two choices now," Elona said, looking at John. "The job is canceled, leave here, or come with me to get the goods back. It's dangerous, but the commission will increase."

[Objective Updated: Retrieve the stolen goods. [Optional]]

John nodded and followed, checking his pistol one last time before leaving. Elona led him to an off-road vehicle parked outside the warehouse.

"WTF?"

John was stunned on the spot.

A Thunder-Miles Beast Series MT450. Black skull livery, honeycomb bulletproof armor, all-terrain tires, and a thickened anti-rollover frame.

"If you drip drool on the car, I'll break your ribs," Elona said expressionlessly.

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She tossed the keys over, picked up a bag as long as a person with one hand, and sat in the passenger seat.

John sat in the driver's seat, caressing the artful combination of leather and steel. The roaring surge of the engine made him want to groan in delight.

"Do you even know how to drive?" Elona frowned.

She intended to fire her weapon from the passenger seat. If the driver's intelligence or skill was lacking, it would hinder her performance.

John gripped the steering wheel. "Any vehicle you can imagine, I can drive."

*Vroom, vroom!*

The mechanical beast let out a roar, mud and sand flying as it surged onto the ring road.

"Connect to the system," Elona said, pressing her temple. Her blue cybernetic eye flickered. Seeing John's slight hesitation, she added, "The firewall is military-grade. You can't hack me."

"Alright."

John pressed the vehicle's port and plugged his Bluetooth chip into the data slot.

[Confirm connection to data terminal? Confirmed.]

Black light flashed—silent hacking. The firewall was as good as non-existent.

[Beast Miles Vehicle System (Hacked)]

John suppressed the urge to cry out. Elona's cybernetic eye was still flickering; she hadn't noticed that her car had been completely compromised.

[Holographic navigation loading...]

A 3D projection appeared before John and Elona, simulating the van's route on the road surface.

"Follow the trail and catch up. Keep your hands on the wheel."

"What an incredible plugin," John remarked.

He had spent years running transport for the Corporation. He had only heard of such tech, or seen combat personnel use it, but he never had the money to experience the charm of high-end plugins himself.

He floored the accelerator, and the Beast sped off. As the car rushed off the ring road, they saw a van driving ahead, weaving left and right like a drunkard. The blaring music could be heard from a distance.

Several Exiles hung halfway out the windows, howling and firing their guns into the air.

John began to accelerate. The car activated hostile infrared scanning, and thermal imaging outlines appeared on the glass, showing the number of people in the van and their seating positions clearly.

"What a great car," he sighed with envy.

The next second, a long leg stepped onto the dashboard in front of the passenger seat.

[Equipment: High-top Porcelain Military Combat Boots]

Elona opened the passenger sunroof, her short blonde hair dancing in the wind. She picked up a rocket launcher, braced herself against the frame, and leaned out.

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