026: Social Education

John fired.

Chaos erupted in the warehouse. Unlike traditional kinetic firearms, the bullets from a tech rifle emitted a distinct electromagnetic hum as they pierced the air—elegant, cool, and lethal. The Zebra GUB felt incredibly comfortable in his grip, with moderate recoil and a high-speed electromagnetic magazine that emptied in the blink of an eye.

The pillar John had aimed at was shredded. A blond youth fell to the ground, clutching his leg and wailing, becoming the first unlucky victim to be singled out. John had never used a Zebra GUB before, but his customized hand cyberware did the heavy lifting.

[Cybernetic Limb: Kingston-Radium Grip I3]

A black pad in his palm detected the weapon's chip, automatically downloading the gun’s built-in reloading protocols. As long as he didn’t consciously suppress it, his hands would reload with the precision of muscle memory.

An empty magazine clattered onto the metal floorboards. The gunfire in the factory ceased abruptly.

The pause in fire was like poking a cockroach nest; several young men scrambled from behind piles of debris, scurrying deeper into the warehouse. John didn't rush to peek and shoot. The retreat was a feint. One kid was already holding his gun, searching for him.

He had to admit, children raised with elite educations had rich imaginations, but unfortunately, they had been coddled for too long. Having never been crushed by absolute power, they had yet to realize the world’s cruelty. It was naively stupid.

The surveillance camera in the corner locked onto the targets. The youths remained oblivious. John had a clear view of the factory floor; his cybernetic eyes synchronized scan data, displaying the outlines of the targets through obstacles, capturing even their slightest movements as they raised their weapons.

John moved silently to the other side, a position that perfectly avoided their line of fire. He surged upward, and a few shots shattered the mechanical arm of the gunman. The factory was filled with fresh howls of agony.

"Jesse’s been hit!"
"Get down, take cover!"
"Fuck, fuck... my hand, ugh—I can’t feel it, it hurts like hell!"
"He’s behind the pillar!"
"Shit, I can't hit him!"

The group of idiots was terrified. They fired blindly in John’s general direction, but their bullets were all swallowed by the obstacles, failing to graze even a hair on his head.

John calmly left his position and rested his rifle on a pile of debris. This was his longest aim yet. His cybernetic eyes flickered. The digital scope refocused, catching someone crouching and moving along the edge of the factory. The kid was ready to abandon his companions and flee alone; he was just about to reach the door handle.

The next second, his knee was struck. A crisp crack of bone followed by a hysterical shriek drowned out all other sounds in the factory.

The young men trembled, covering their mouths to stifle their cries. The one with the broken leg gritted his teeth and dragged himself across the floor. He tried desperately to crawl away, and then, a chilling scene unfolded.

The gunfire did not stop. Bullets tore through the obstacles, hitting him repeatedly until he was completely incapacitated. He wailed and begged his companions for help, but until he passed out from blood loss and shock, no one dared to respond.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

John held the Zebra GUB and shifted his aim, firing steadily. Every bullet pierced the weak points of the cover, hitting the car thieves with surgical precision. The most terrifying part was that none of the wounds were fatal; he simply switched targets after every shot.

The youths were on the verge of a mental breakdown.

"Damn it, ah, he can see us!"
"His bullets can go through walls!"
"Dammit, come out here, you piece of—"

Bang!

Before the foul-mouthed kid could finish, a shot tore through his ribs. He collapsed, clutching his blood-soaked shoulder and twitching on the ground, a charred hole appearing in the steel plate behind him.

A shot rang out from the shadows dozens of meters away. A bullet hit the floor just inches from the speaker’s head, the sputtering electromagnetic discharge scorching his cheek.

Fear was far more lethal than the pain.

The remaining thieves snapped. They could no longer hold back; screaming, they raised their guns and charged out, only to be shot down one by one like toy blocks.

The gunfire finally ended. John switched his lens to scan the area one last time, then stood up with cool composure, as relaxed as if he had just picked up a takeout order from a street stall.

A mission prompt popped up.

[Converse with the car thieves. (Optional)]
[Find Piotr Mercado. (Incomplete)]

The vast, dilapidated factory was filled with moans, and pale sunlight filtered through the dust, illuminating graffiti-covered concrete walls. John descended the metal stairs. He rounded up the nearby thieves, dumping them in the center of the floor, then circled back to drag over the unlucky one who had run the furthest.

A long trail of blood marked the floor. The terrifying sight brought to mind the notorious ghouls of the streets, and the youths who had been wailing just moments ago all fell silent.

"Birds of a feather, indeed."

John could tell at a glance that these were all rich kids—their implants were those exquisite, flashy celebrity models, the kind seen on public advertisements in Eden City; expensive, but impractical. They were breathing shallowly, their consciousness fading.

John leaned over, slowing his speech and speaking as loudly as he could.

"Now, who can tell me, where the hell is my car?"

The foul-mouthed kid raised a weak hand, pointing toward the end of the tire tracks. He actually tried to bargain. "Your car’s onboard system has been hacked. I have the key to remotely unlock it. If you just spare my life..."

John gave a meaningful smile.

Piotr panicked instantly and added, "I’m Piotr Mercado! My family is very wealthy, don’t kill me, I beg you!"

John’s expression became suddenly intriguing. Just as Piotr thought he was saved, the man turned and walked away.

John found the car in the depths of the factory and immediately pulled out a data cable to hack the onboard system. Blacklight shattered the Eisenberg firewall, purged the plug-ins, and repaired the backdoors the thieves had left behind.

[New vehicle added.]

Blacklight added it to his managed devices. John could now remotely monitor the vehicle's status through his neural chip, just like a black spider; he would receive a notification at the slightest disturbance. There would be no more instances of his car being stolen without him realizing it—unless someone could best Blacklight.

John looked around at the various cars of different styles and price points.

"I wondered how six people could fit in one supercar."

He inspected them one by one, recovering a significant amount of stolen goods and moving them all to his own vehicle. He was most pleased to find a large quantity of medical supplies in the back of a pickup truck. The gas-valve injectors were all marked with the Gaia Cell logo; he had just experienced these, and their efficacy and value were far superior to the generic street-tier alternatives.

The Silver Knight 577 switched to cruise mode and autonomously returned to his apartment. The roar of the engine echoed throughout the factory, signaling that John had regained control and further diminishing the thieves' utility.

Piotr’s face turned deathly pale.

Just then, Necktie called.

[John, is it done?]

"All six unlucky bastards are in front of me. They’re still breathing for now, but if they don't get their bleeding stopped, that might change."

[Phew, as long as you're okay. The Black Gold Gang is heading your way. Take Piotr and go to the Old Bridge Hole in the West District; I’ll arrange for someone to take the delivery.]

The screech of tires echoed from outside the factory.

"I think they’re already here."

John switched his view and saw a group of men rushing toward the building, looking aggressive.

[Fuck, get out of there! I’ll handle the negotiations with the Black Gold Gang. Call me when you’re completely safe.]

Necktie hung up, his tone frantic. John frowned. He was about to leave, but new content popped up in front of him.

[Mission Objective Updated]
[Deliver Piotr Mercado to the drop-off point. (Incomplete)]
[Negotiate with the Black Gold Gang. (Optional)]

Was the mission actually hinting for him to stay?

John hesitated, and in that moment, he lost his chance to escape. Dense footsteps approached from all sides. A group of heavily armed men burst in, leveling their guns at him and spewing a stream of foul-mouthed abuse.

The leader shouted at him to surrender.