047: Fishhooks and Hunters
Originally, these few men intended to drive off with the small truck directly, but John certainly wouldn’t agree—after all, the trunk was still packed with the spoils.
“Hey buddy, want me to hold that for you?”
The henchmen with tie clips were speechless.
“Hey John, you’re doing big business with the boss, so why do you always pull these backward moves during every deal?”
“If I can trade muscle on the street, then forget about money... I’m a pragmatist, not some pretentious fool who survives on thin air.”
John shrugged.
The henchmen exchanged glances, shrugged in return, and began making calls upstairs. Then...
Beep, beep, beep.
The tie clip crew meant business.
They were also prepared.
A heavy-duty trailer from Zenith Heavy Industries rolled up, its crane arm lifting the fish tank onto the shipping compartment.
This little darling still needed inspection and cleaning before it could be delivered to the client.
John watched silently as it all unfolded, pressing out his cigarette butt against the moss lining the edge of the gutter.
[Contact—Tie Clip Boss: Incoming Call]
[Finally, I can report back to the client...]
“Cut to the chase. Are you telling me I have to keep working if I want the stuff I’m after?”
John anticipated his ploy.
The voice on the line chuckled without denial.
“Heh, fine, I know you don’t care about my life... but be patient, John. Have I ever treated you unfairly?”
“But you’re always calculating. Every time I deal with you, I have to watch my step, wary of hidden traps beneath my feet... That feeling’s just too unsettling. If you’re dangling that list like a carrot, I’ll just cut the fishing line.”
“Don’t rush to break things off. Tsk, I only do what benefits both sides. This client can get you the stuff you want, so I went through the trouble of reconnecting a dead deal.”
“Then show some sincerity, or I won’t work for you anymore.”
John wasn’t a naive newcomer anymore, nor was he desperate as before. Now there were plenty of opportunities; no need to waste time on a scheming middleman.
Tie Clip Boss fell silent for a moment, seemingly weighing gains and losses.
John reminded him, “You said you’d tell me something after delivery.”
“Hmm... Ironbound Logistics is investigating a missing equipment case—a B-24 six-rotor heavy-lift drone. Let me see... The accident report shows it was illegally intercepted, emergency protocols weren’t activated in time, and the signal vanished near the Danny Street apartments...”
John listened quietly.
[The last person to sign for the delivery was John. Oh, even rookies looking through adult chips know not to use real names... What were you thinking?]
John didn’t answer but countered,
“You didn’t even check, yet the accident report lands on your face. Why do you drag your feet when I ask for the company roster?”
Tie Clip Boss sighed, thinking John didn’t grasp the stakes.
[Company Asset Management Law allows the use of force against malicious interception and damage. If I didn’t help you, a hovercar with a squad of company soldiers would kick your apartment door down...]
John smiled quietly, saying nothing.
He came from Ironbound Logistics himself; he wasn’t easily fooled. And just think about where the black market got all that company equipment in Eden City.
The transport crews knew the asset protection laws inside out. Back when they stole spare parts for extra cash, their pile of accident reports grew knee-high.
John knew the company wouldn’t let this go, and he understood their investigation process.
This brazen robbery was a test to gauge the company’s response. If they followed the usual routine—intimidation, warnings, fines, coercion—
It meant he wasn’t under the company’s close watch.
If the investigators seemed off or the process was too low-key, and trouble still brewed, that would mean his last freight mission had serious problems.
If that were the case, John would immediately hide out at the Damascus camp or Safe Harbor Corporation.
There, he could watch the situation unfold and trace back the source through reverse investigation.
John chuckled softly.
“I still don’t want to thank you.”
[I’m not asking for credit, just clarifying so you don’t think—while you’re risking your life with Konbu Junior, I’m doing nothing.]
“Did you get Ironbound Logistics off my back?”
[There’ll be two muscle-bound guys knocking on your door later, routine stuff. Don’t make it hard on them, and absolutely no trigger-happy moves. Theft and murder are two different crimes...]
A sigh came through the phone.
[The payment for the little darling will be transferred to your account soon. Let’s keep things separate; look on the bright side, working with me isn’t that bad.]
John remained noncommittal.
The call ended.
[Task: Little Darling (Completed)]
[Reward: Payment]
John slid into the driver’s seat of the small truck, reaching to turn on the radio, only to notice two bullet holes in the dashboard.
“Fuck,” he cursed, starting the engine.
The transfer from Tie Clip Boss came through—this guy might be cunning, but he always paid fairly for the difficulty of the job.
Instead of heading to the West District, the old truck turned toward Barrel Street.
The sky was still early, and the route was smoother—perfect for grabbing a bite at the Black Engine Diner.
[Food: Synthetic Meat Sauce Spaghetti]
Gnaeus slammed a large plate in front of John, then thumped a mug of draft beer onto the table, pointing toward the parking lot outside.
“Tsk tsk, fallen on hard times? All you drive now is a Calomon. I thought you were making waves out West.”
“Keep wishing.”
John wolfed down the food. Honestly, he was tired of takeout from Danny Street; nothing beat Gnaeus’s cooking.
He must have implanted a cooking chip in his arm.
“You better make a name for yourself.”
Gnaeus rolled up his sleeves—the old model of his metal prosthetic was clean and tidy, just like the Black Engine Diner itself. “There are already girls in the staff dorm. Even if you crawl back now begging to wash dishes, there’s no room for you.”
“Hmm?”
John sipped his beer and noticed new faces inside the shop.
It was peak dining time; besides the bartender behind the bar, two European-looking girls were weaving between tables, carrying plates and pouring drinks.
“Things are looking up, hic. Contact me if you need anything.”
“Oh, look at you bragging now.”
Gnaeus crossed his arms, smirking at him. “Eden City’s a deep pool. Don’t think that just because you’re full, swipe a few things, and hear some sweet talk, you’re a big shot. Attitudes like that get you killed fastest.”
“Damn it, you really want me to make it... is that it?”
John rolled his eyes, paid skillfully, and left.
As dusk settled, he drove the battered truck to an underground passage, parking on an empty patch near the cabinets along the riverside path.
A few barrels burned quietly in the dark.
Vagrants and shady types cast fleeting glances his way.
John loaded a full magazine into his fully equipped short-snouted alligator rifle. The strange restlessness around him lessened significantly; even the locals’ gazes grew friendlier.