006: Reputation on the Streets
“Damn it, I knew it wouldn’t be that simple!” John clutched the iron bucket, violently retching.
[Carrier overheating, computational anomaly detected. Please use suppressant promptly.]
He caught his breath and reached up to touch his neck: his veins were pulsating abnormally, and his body temperature was rising. John had been too optimistic.
The dark flickering in his mind hadn’t disappeared; the text-based mission continued updating as usual. Of course, cyber psychosis wouldn’t just heal on its own...
“Damn it all,” John cursed as he leaned against the wall. “Looks like I have to use the suppressant regularly, or I’ll just keep weakening like before.”
[Shop – Black Engine Diner]
The place was crowded with strange-looking customers, each more outspoken than the last. John sat tucked away in the corner of the bar, hiding at the very edge of the light.
He buried his head in his food, trying to steady his thoughts.
The suppressant recipe was etched in his mind; all he needed was to replicate it.
Most ingredients were available on the market, but the rarest component was a prosthetic limb with residual data.
That wouldn’t be too difficult—he could check the black market or scour the junkyard.
Just as he was thinking this…
Gnaeus approached.
He handed over the restaurant duties to the bartender, mixed a glass of rock whiskey, poured it into an octagonal glass, and slid it over to John.
“If you’re still breathing, you deserve something good.”
John raised his glass in acknowledgment and drank deeply.
“Phew—shit, that’s spicy.”
“Don’t be such a wimp. I made it as smooth as I could. You did a great job this run; the camp even threw in a little extra tip.”
Seeing John distracted, Gnaeus grinned. “No thanks?”
John wiped his mouth, grabbed his coat, and shook his head.
“I saved them a Thunder Miles. Do you know how much an MT450 is worth?”
“Fair enough.”
As John prepared to leave, Gnaeus added, “The Damascus Camp has a good impression of you. More jobs are coming your way.”
“Understood, sir.”
John waved and returned to the staff lounge.
The metal sliding door muffled most of the diner’s noise, but it still wasn’t quiet enough for true solitude.
Better make some money soon and rent a place of his own.
[Mission: A New Beginning (Completed)]
[Reward: Robot Gathering Drone Blueprints (Model-T05)]
New information flooded John’s mind.
A blueprint for a robot of unknown function, complete with internal schematics, technical documents, and serial codes.
“Quite advanced technology.”
John had a sudden idea.
He searched the Eden City public network for Model-T05 but found no matching data. It must be an unreleased product, never made public.
The mission reward was only the blueprint; materials and assembly were on him. Including the suppressant ingredients...
“Quite a heavy shopping list.”
John stood and left through the restaurant’s back door.
He pulled up his hood and walked through the dim, damp streets, passed the noisy, yellow-lit red-light market, and entered a familiar underground passage.
Chatter of flirty voices, mysterious burly men, illegal trades.
Everywhere reeked of blood, danger, and gunfire...
John stopped before a familiar roll-up door.
Surveillance cameras swept past as harsh Southside rock music blared inside, markedly different from the gang tastes on Oil Drum Street.
“Hey, you know the way around.”
Cabinet sat with legs crossed, cash and bullet clips scattered on the table, prosthetics and chips left unreturned to the shelves.
“Business’s not bad.”
“Not too shabby, but nothing compared to you. There’s a band of Exiles on the Ring Road; they robbed Damascus Camp’s goods this morning but were wiped out en route by evening.”
Cabinet wore a pitch-black half-mask, smiling grimly.
“You were the driver, right, John?”
“How do you know? The news spreads fast.”
Cabinet’s eyes said, “Told you so.”
“Damascus Camp is deliberately spreading the word. They’ve taken on many new recruits recently. That Southside raid was to send a message—kill one to warn the rest. To caution other factions in Eden City not to stir trouble at critical moments.”
Cabinet tapped the display, playing evening news footage.
Aerial shots showed scorched vehicles and corpses littering the ground.
“If you’re here to fence stolen goods, you’ll have to wait till tomorrow. You know my rules—I deal only in scheduled trades. If you can’t wait, sell to other dealers.”
John shook his head.
The T05 gathering robot needed to be modified from a finished product under strict conditions; impossible to buy off the street.
“I need a Hound Digger, new Alpha model, dual hydraulic tubes, solar module, and—most importantly—a company-original chip.”
“Wow, you know your stuff,” Cabinet said, surprised since John didn’t seem like a tech guy.
“Normally I wouldn’t say, but as a Hound Digger substitute, the BK series from Jingqi Heavy Industries is rated higher…”
John shook his head, sticking to his list.
After a moment’s thought, he added, “I also need a set of control chips, heavy-duty integrated system with VI-level firewall.”
Cabinet smiled, raised a hand, and leisurely lit a cigarette.
“If you’d asked me this yesterday, I’d have kicked you out immediately…”
“Why? Not making money?”
“Some nameless nobody wanting nuclear weapon components—do you think the big shots in military manufacturing care about him?”
Cabinet looked up and pointed at the TV.
“Everything happening on the streets has eyes watching—middlemen, traders, gang leaders. The black market has its own unique reputation system.”
“If you make a name for yourself in Eden City, work clean, and build relationships, you gain street credibility. Vendors and prosthetic doctors will sell you special gear.”
“Some top-tier stuff isn’t for ordinary nobodies. Only those recognized get to use it.”
[Street Reputation Increased↑]
[Black Market Unlocked More Goods]
“You just did a deal with the Queen of Gunfire—Oil Drum Street’s underground knows about you now.”
Cabinet made a rock hand gesture, smiling.
“So, I’m taking your order. It’ll take a day to prepare. If the price’s okay… come by tomorrow night to pick it up.”
John confirmed the quote.
The gear was expensive. Tomorrow he’d have to sell the Exiles’ loot and postpone his plans for rent and a vehicle.
“Place the order. Thanks.”
He didn’t leave immediately but browsed the store’s inventory, seeing which new items he had unlocked.
Cabinet displayed a batch of prosthetics and chips—good gear to increase survival odds.
John couldn’t help asking, “How good are Alona’s prosthetics?”
“That’s a legend, buddy. I’ve seen the news—everywhere are high-precision heavy sniper armor-piercing casings. Very few compatible firearms, and none for normal people to handle. One shot can shatter an entire arm…”
Cabinet’s eyes gleamed as he spoke.
In John’s mind, a vehicle rearing back flashed before him.
Without corporate backing, survival on the streets demanded raw strength. He had to find a way to arm himself.
The next evening, after some rest,
John arrived as promised, cleared out the loot trash, and collected his ordered goods.
He went to an electronics store to buy better editors and supplies, then, carrying a pile of equipment, began the long trek to the familiar suburban junkyard.
The blueprints were secret—unsuitable to work on in the restaurant’s staff lounge.
After some thought...
Only the landfill, remote and deserted, was suitable for open experimentation.
John was glad his arm had been modified.
Though the company’s standard prosthetics were cheap, they met most engineering needs and were quite practical.
After a long while, the garbage mound came into view.
Cranes and unmanned hauling vehicles quietly shuttled back and forth. Heavy machinery for cutting and crushing all stood silent, only activated at scheduled times.