052: Stray Dog
The girl silently smoothed her hair, trying to conceal the scar on her temple.
“A piece of scum.”
The purple-haired girl smoking a cigarette responded.
She pulled her coat back on, her gaze suddenly growing cold and detached.
“Look at me and just tell the truth—do you want to sleep with me?” The purple-haired girl stared straight at John, her tone calm. “Neither she nor I want to work tonight.”
“Need some help?”
John asked again.
“Shh—”
The purple-haired girl cut him off, exhaling smoke.
“Do you think you’re some kind of hero? Asking that with a savior complex is pretty damn pathetic. Though you’re not bad-looking... this city’s filthier than a toilet. Once you step in, you all smell the same... so don’t look at me with those eyes.”
Ding—
The elevator doors opened.
Wrapped in cloaks, they stepped out and were mercilessly swallowed by neon lights, immersed in the dazzling nightlife until their bodies blended into the shadows.
[Danny Street — Borago Club]
Silver Knight 577 was parked in the VIP spot.
John encountered many unexpected events daily, but none disrupted his plan—to visit Mr. Vito.
He wore a loose, water-resistant work jacket over a bulletproof vest and shirt. Though he looked like a street mercenary, his membership status allowed him to pass security scans smoothly and enter the heart of the club frequented by high society and powerful figures.
The VIP area was located on the north side of a large shopping center.
The interior was lavish compared to the surrounding commercial district, staffed by professional security and waiters.
As the West District’s greatest den of iniquity for the elite, it offered every conceivable exclusive service. Monthly auctions were held regularly, and company executives often hosted banquets here.
John entered Mr. Vito’s office.
The Black Gold Gang was one of the largest factions in Eden City, and as the boss, Mr. Vito wielded immense power and status.
“Sit down, John. Want a drink?”
“Something light.”
Vito rolled up his sleeve, revealing a metal arm, and twisted off the cap of a glass bottle.
He filled a glass, cut a cigar for himself.
John swirled his whiskey, then downed the richly colored liquid, his head suddenly buzzing as if a fire burned in his chest.
“The stimulant’s pretty strong.”
“You really should upgrade your digestive system... Alcohol is more than just your street survival tool.”
Today, Vito wore a high-end black velvet vest over a synthetic fiber shirt, its collar long and sharp to convey authority.
---
“Stay in this city long enough, see enough absurd disasters, and the only ones who’ll listen to your troubles... will be the various high-proof liquors lined up at the bar.”
John shook his head and got straight to the point.
“I’m sorry about what happened in the basement. Is there anything you need me to help with?”
Mr. Vito sat back in the leather sofa, crossing one leg, his gaze piercing through the cigar smoke as he studied the young man before him.
“Many come in and out of my office daily, John. Most are takers or asking me to clean up their messes. You’re the first to offer repayment voluntarily.”
Vito flicked the smoke from his cigar.
“Let me warn you, every excellent virtue you possess multiplies your danger tenfold. Without enough strength, don’t ever use morality to bind yourself.”
“Do I seem like a good man?”
“Who can say? Just follow your own heart.”
The chandelier above cast its light down.
Vito’s eyes seemed shrouded in deep shadows.
A flicker of golden data streams passed through his pupils, and then he said lightly,
“Since you’re free, go teach some wild dogs a lesson.”
[Series Mission Arena: Out-of-Control Wild Dogs]
[Reward: Payment, Melee Weapon (Random)]
Eden City’s underground illegal boxing circuit was well-established and vast, a favorite pastime across all social strata.
Countless people died in the ring each year—gang-trained fighters and mercenaries climbing the ranks alike.
Their lure was a jackpot rivaling the grandest lottery and endless glory.
You either made a name for yourself or cracked open your skull; one corpse after another was dragged away amid gamblers’ curses and tossed into back alleys.
Boxing was a significant revenue source for the Black Gold Gang.
Their territory was littered with boxing gyms and fitness centers, where every penny wagered on a fighter was skimmed off into their pockets.
Besides signing famous fighters, they also trained new talent themselves.
Vito planned to showcase several promising fighters in a key match early in the month, but some boxers ran into trouble midway.
He paused, then looked up at John.
“At the Makao Bandage Boxing Gym, someone went around beating up the fighters I trained.”
“Fuck, Eden...”
John rubbed his forehead.
With Vito’s methods, it was easy to find out who was behind it.
But first, Eden had shown restraint; second, there was no need to stir trouble with the Safe Harbor Company over a minor issue.
“Are their injuries severe?”
---
“Just passed out, but here...”
Vito poked at his chest.
“These fighters clawed their way out of the gutter, surviving on sheer grit. They can handle cracked skulls but won’t let anyone throw them away like trash.”
Vito frowned, taking a drag from his cigar.
“Their pride and belief are shattered and need special measures to rebuild. Some unfit ones have to be weeded out, but the match is urgent—I can’t afford to waste time.”
The Black Gold Gang had gathered a batch of temporary new fighters from the city’s corners, all desperate European fugitives trying to make a living in Eden City.
Frankly, they performed well in the ring; a guy named Hoffman even tore his opponent’s mouth apart.
But with that came arrogance.
Blinded by skyrocketing fame and wealth, these wild dogs caused trouble everywhere.
Normally, that would be tolerable, but they shouldn’t have gotten involved with the scouts from the Crow Town Gang.
Vito’s murderous intent was unmistakable.
“I showed mercy, and they chose to betray me.”
[Mission Update:]
[Gather intel on Hoffman’s whereabouts in the outer commercial district. (Incomplete)]
John took the elevator from the VIP area down to the ground floor and easily found the Bandage Boxing Gym.
Gino still clutched a towel in his hand; he said the job of cleaning the gym equipment would last another two weeks.
“Makao’s not here. The fighters he trained recently ran into trouble and have been pretty down.”
“I want to ask about a fighter named Hoffman.”
“Shit, why are you looking for that bastard?”
Gino’s eyes instantly filled with disgust.
“He and those other Germans are a bunch of lunatics, total freaks. The fighters running with them are always causing trouble; even the red-light district on Danny Street won’t take them.”
Gino crossed his arms, brows knitted.
“Last night, Hoffman was high as a kite. He raped two street girls, then beat one to death in an alley. Blood everywhere...”
“Hey, Gino.”
John interrupted her.
“Just tell me, where is he?”