The Owl Town Gang thug left.
He didn't dare to linger, not even tossing the body out of the car, just disappearing into the rainy night's street with shattered glass.
[Mission: The Usual Place]
[Reward: Bonus (To Be Determined), Vehicle (To Be Determined), Property (To Be Determined)]
A new mission appeared before John's eyes.
He stood in the shadow of the restaurant wall, waiting until a line of new text surfaced.
[Mission Objective Updated]
[Find the whereabouts of Gerry, Maya, and others. (Optional)]
[Return to Vehicle. (Not Achieved)]
John glanced towards the parking lot.
[Device hack detected, access denied.]
Someone messed with his car.
John kept silent, pretending nothing happened as he returned to the parking lot.
No streetlight was intact around.
The Silver Rider 577 was still parked.
John could even picture it:
Someone stood next to his car just now, reaching through the broken window, trying to open the car door and sit in the back, waiting for him to return to the driver's seat.
But the car's system triggered the alarm.
The Black Light equipment management center notified John.
He turned his head to look at the empty back seat.
The opponent must have realized they'd been exposed.
Yet being discovered and unwilling to leave indicated they still wanted to make contact, without revealing themselves, which meant they wanted to find a safe position to shoot him first?
For example:
Hiding in the vehicle's shadow, waiting for him to get close.
Bang, bang bang—
A burst of bullets shot out from under the car.
Sianweistan activated.
As John flipped over the hood, a special hum in his cochlea indicated someone nearby also activated Sianweistan.
As expected.
In the time-stopped world, raindrops slowed.
A man slid out from under the Silver Rider 577, with overlapping shadows, aiming a gun in the air, shooting at the flipping John.
The first two shots missed.
The last one John dodged by tilting his head.
[Spine: Sianweistan T17]
John's prosthetic body deceleration rate was higher, the gun barrel's movement appeared slow-motion to him, making prediction easy.
The opponent clearly didn't anticipate this.
John leaped over the vehicle, airborne, tucked his knees, and landed on the opponent's chest.
The enemy tried to resist, and indeed had some skills.
When John's knee struck the opponent's sternum, he realized the man had an alloy skeleton installed, and both arms were common combat models on the market.
Mercenary.
The profession flashed in John's mind.
The opponent wasn't knocked down, immediately counterattacked with a punch, likely loaded with a chip, moved swiftly, joints exerted force professionally.
John was thrown off.
The enemy didn't flee, knowing they couldn't.
Seeing the distance unsuitable for shooting, he directly reversed the gun, using the heavy metal butt of the revolver as brass knuckles, swinging at the off-balance John.
[PreCogOS Protocol Activated]
[Syncing Prosthetic Eye, Calibrating Parameters...]
Black Light whooshed past.
This was something Kenichi Sora left for John.
A core algorithm deeply bound to his nervous system, integrated by Black Light.
John's prosthetic eye glowed faintly.
The time-stop rate didn't change.
But every move of the opponent was broken down before his eyes, even seeing the holographic projection-simulated paths.
The battle balance shifted instantly.
John seized a tiny flaw, pressing on the muscle about to exert force, closing in, and driving his knee into the opponent's abdomen.
"Ugh, cough!"
The guy arched his back, trying to pull away.
John grabbed his arm, disarmed him, twisted the joint of the left prosthetic limb, and with a scream, smashed the man's head against the edge of the Silver Rider 577's hood.
Bang!
John controlled the angle very well.
The attacker was instantly dizzy.
"Hey, hey hey, stop, stop!"
The opponent stopped struggling, dropped all his strength.
A professional knows when to stop.
This was an old hand.
John raised his leg and kicked the opponent's right ankle.
Crack.
"Oww—fuck!"
The mercenary let out a more piercing scream, lost his balance, and collapsed into the puddle.
Wasn't as dramatic as it seemed.
John didn't need a scan to know—the guy had a pain blocker built into his spine, and his right foot was a prosthetic body, so the nerve pain wasn't that severe.
This guy was faking weakness.
John didn't kill him because the other guy held back too. The shot from under the car was intended to injure rather than kill him, so John breaking his foot was a fair payback.
He bent down, picked up the weapon the guy dropped, flipped it around for a glance, and tossed it into the Silver Rider's passenger seat before speaking.
"Who are you?"
Before the other could answer, John lifted a hand to interrupt and added, "I've had enough rain tonight, let's save some time. If you say you're just a car thief, I'll break your neck right now."
He glanced over casually.
[Name: Kim Wright (The Old Fox)]
[Faction: Mercenaries [Lone Wolf]]
[Scan: Sianweistan-City Hunter Type II, Isaac Military Industry-Light Tank Alloy Skeleton J21 Model, etc.]
[Bounty: Electronic Fence, Damage to Corporate Property, etc.]
The Vacuum Tube retained John's prosthetic eye database.
Kim was silent for a few seconds, then sighed in what seemed like a compromise.
"Raphael, the Underground King of the East District, a middleman..."
He tried to introduce but saw John smiling.
John recalled his last meeting with Raphael in an underground clinic four months ago.
She warned him not to return to Eden City.
That line was meant for Kenichi Sora.
But it's John who's back now.
"You know Raphael? Fine, I scanned your info, thought you were new to this city. Anyway, this is your feud with Raphael..."
The Old Fox's tone was relaxed, like a friendly chat.
But John picked up on it—he was subtly probing for confirmation.
John didn't reply and continued to ask.
"How did she know I was back?"
"Middleman's tricks."
The Old Fox speculated with uncertainty. "Checkpoint surveillance, road scans, or maybe there's an informant inside the police station."
His leg was broken, and now he leaned back against the Silver Rider 577, turning his head as he added.
"Maybe they just tracked a certain car."
"Did she send you to kill me?"
John looked up and down the mercenary in front of him, not hiding his disdain.
The Old Fox looked weathered.
The equipment was mid-range.
The caliber of the revolver he carried was decent, and the modifications were unique, marking him as an experienced mercenary, but he wasn't doing well.
"Oh, no, no, just a probe."
The Old Fox vehemently denied.
"You must have pissed off Raphael, or she wouldn't have sent you to test me, clearly to have someone rough you up." John said, dragging him up from beside his car. "Look on the bright side, the fact that you're just sent to probe means you haven't completely pissed her off."
The Old Fox clutched his lame leg and staggered a few steps in the rain, looking a bit dejected as if John had hit a sore spot.
He watched as John got into the driver's seat, started the vehicle, and the Silver Rider 577 pulled out of the parking spot, ready to speed away.
The Old Fox couldn't hold back and shouted.
"They said you were dead!"
The voice was a bit loud, abrupt, echoing once in the empty parking lot before being drowned out by the rain.
The Silver Rider 577's taillights came to a stop.
John reversed the car back, looking at him from the driver's seat.
"What else did they say?"
The Old Fox thought for a moment, letting the rain drip down his chin.
"They said, you killed a company executive in three days, killed a racer raised by Eastern People, and went to the Central Arena to defeat the reigning champion." He paused, as if recalling details.
"Too flashy, and too many enemies."
The parking lot was filled only with the sounds of rain and engines.
Someone said they saw the Silver Rider 577 being blown up by Internet Surveillance.
Someone said they saw John's body on the ring road, dying horribly.
Others said John died as soon as he stepped off the arena, Reigen shattered all his organs and bones.
Newcomers constantly emerged on the streets.
New topics, new faces, and people said that story sounded like bragging, so in the end, no one mentioned his name again.
It was still raining.
The Old Fox looked quite miserable, soaked.
He regretted starting this topic a bit.
John didn't say a word, reached out and picked up the confiscated revolver from the passenger seat, and tossed it back out of the window, landing in the puddle by the other's feet, splashing a small flick of water.
The Silver Rider 577 drove out of the parking lot.
The taillights blended back into Eden City's neon lights.
