054: Changing Blades

It turned out that falling from a height without proper posture is extremely dangerous.

Fortunately, Hoffman served as a cushion.

His bald head slammed against the edge of the angle iron, driving metal and shards of glass deep into the synthetic leather, directly scrambling his brains beyond recognition.

John was left speechless by the shock of the fall.

[Eliminate Hoffman. (Not Completed)]

Several veins suddenly bulged on Hoffman's arm, and in the next instant, he slashed forward fiercely with his knife.

John leaned back and dodged it.

"Damn it, you freak."

He cursed, looking down at his opponent from above.

Hoffman's face was severely distorted, and even his cybernetic eye had blown out, yet he was still breathing—which just goes to show how overpowered European-brand implants and hormones really were.

If they had met in a more spacious area...

John was confident he could blow Hoffman's head off, but close-quarters combat was the enemy's specialty, so taking a slight disadvantage was only to be expected.

Fortunately, he had loaded two good chips and possessed a high-end custom katana.

John severed Hoffman's arm.

He then immediately inverted the grip, driving the blade straight into the opponent's mouth—the patterned metal edge tore through teeth, pierced the neck, and protruded from beneath the dance floor.

Blood gathered at the tip and dripped in a steady stream.

Having slain Hoffman, John immediately pulled out a medical injector and administered it.

[Item: Hemostatic First Aid MA-5 (Used)]

He looked around and found the first floor of the bar was basically cleared out:

Those who were too slow pulling up their pants to run, those too drunk to budge, and the waiters with zero human rights were all hiding in the shadows.

The previously aggressive security guards were nowhere to be seen.

John gave it a brief thought and quickly figured it out—this was Black Gold Syndicate territory, the hotel manager would definitely report the incident upward, and Hoffman was a target the syndicate wanted eliminated. Since wrongs have their authors and debts have their debtors, the bar had no desire to incur any more meaningless casualties.

John poked his head out to observe:

The head of security was hiding in the shadows, the path leading to the side door was completely unobstructed, and the armed guards looked like they couldn't wait to walk over and escort him out.

John knew there was no immediate threat anymore.

He administered another shot of recovery stimulant and looted Hoffman's straight knife.

[Weapon: Butterfly SOCP Dagger]

[Manufacturer: Isaac Military Industries]

[Attachments: Honed Edge, Durable Coating]

This dagger was very common in the military. As a sidearm, the butterfly SOCP dagger was designed for low profile, light weight, and effective lethality.

The skeletonized handle featured a key ring-style finger loop at the end for rapid deployment, allowing the user to slip their index finger through the loop during hand-to-hand combat.

This knife was quite good; he would keep it for himself.

Having gone through this close-quarters melee, John deeply understood why Aiden said that a katana was nothing more than a pretty decoration.

Pulling off flashy moves powered by Rafiki Industries' chips was fine, and cutting down street punks and unsuspecting outcasts was indeed very simple.

But when facing a desperate killer like Hoffman, one would only find it exhausting and unrewarding, especially in tight terrain where John's usual firearms were completely useless.

There was another reason for switching blades.

Carrying a katana around everywhere every day was actually quite cumbersome, whereas a SOCP butterfly knife was convenient to wear anywhere.

The Electronic Vein bar was frighteningly quiet at this moment.

Not wanting to waste too much time, John immediately ran back up to the second floor to retrieve his sidearm.

He scavenged a few supplies from the room where his weapon had fallen, slid along the metal railing into the shadows, pulled up his hood, and slipped out straight through the side door.

The alley was completely empty.

John raised his head and saw police drones rumbling overhead. The beams of neon lights and searchlights intertwined, while loudspeakers blared out harmless, bureaucratic jargon.

The street outside was packed with people.

Two police cruisers were parked leisurely in the distance.

This was territory controlled by the Black Gold Syndicate, and it was merely a brief bar brawl with no explosives or large-scale firefights, so there was no need to come in and conduct a search.

The chaos inside had long since alerted Mr. Vito.

Gilead had brought men to surround the building, demanding various guarantees from the Electronic Vein bar, and had even mentioned John's name.

Standing among the crowd, he read the other man's lip movements.

[Stop fucking beating around the bush with me. If you've got the guts, go talk to Vito Russell about the damages. Those dead Russians... don't you have a clue in your head?]

[An Owomachi scout? Fuck.]

[With a guy like that showing up in your joint, you're telling me you didn't pocket a little extra on the side? The syndicate turns a blind eye to you, but don't push your luck!]

[The attacker was one of our own. Pull all the security personnel out, and warn them that there's no bounty, so no stupid hotheads should get any bright ideas about scoring quick merit.]

Gilead was chewing out the bar manager.

He suddenly paused, looking up at the crowd of onlookers, where a familiar figure stood.

John exchanged glances with him.

It served as a greeting and a signal that he was safe.

Although the process of this job had been perilous, acting with reckless abandon and working for the syndicate had the perk of having someone backing you up and cleaning up your mess.

By comparison, Necktie Clip was an absolute bastard.

The rest of the matter could be left to the Black Gold Syndicate.

John made a debriefing call to Mr. Vito.

[Well done, John, but did you even read the file? Hoffman and his brawler goons are quite dangerous. I expected you to be a bit more cautious. I'm not blaming you—on the contrary, your performance exceeded my expectations.]

"Yeah, it caused quite a racket. I almost got turned around by that bastard."

John frowned, still feeling a lingering sense of dread as he looked at his blood-stained clothes.

[It doesn't matter how big of a commotion you make. This is Danny Street, and the Black Gold Syndicate has your back. Just be a bit more careful how you do things yourself. I understand an ambitious young man's eagerness to make a name for himself, but if you capsize in a gutter, you'll lose everything.]

Mr. Vito nagged for a bit.

He seemed to be in a good mood.

[A syndicate executing a traitor should definitely be done as high-profile as possible. You executed it brilliantly; an arrogant brawler like him deserved to be punished in broad daylight. By the way, there's one more thing.]

Mr. Vito turned back toward the video feed.

[I heard from Gilead that there were two Owomachi Syndicate scouts inside the bar? Heh, that's a pleasant surprise. Those Easterners are petty; you'll need to watch your step in the city from now on, or some ignorant fools might come looking to trouble you.]

"Does this mean I've made an enemy of the Owomachi Syndicate?"

[Not that dramatic. At worst, it'll just be small fry throwing tantrums, ambushing you on the road or emptying a few magazines into your car. The higher-ups at Cherry Blossom Crossing know how to weigh things—the cost of killing you is too high, and for just a few scouts... it's not worth it. If needed, they might even actively do business with you and hire you for jobs.]

"Really? I took out quite a few of them."

[They're all cold, psychopathic bastards. Hard work, John. Your reward will be wired to your account shortly.]

Mr. Vito raised a toast toward the camera to signal the end.

[Mission Objective Updated]

[Head to the Bandage Boxing Gym and look for Macao. (Not Completed)]

The call hung up, but the mission was not over.

John was somewhat surprised, but two high-grade stimpaks later, he was recovering very fast. Gaia Cell Corp's premium goods lived up to their price tag.

He walked through two blocks to return to the perimeter of the boxing gym.

Macao gasped in pleasant surprise the moment he saw him:

"Hey, John, I was just looking for you! Damn it, Gino, get something over here—he's bleeding all over."