My cyberpsychosis is a task prompt

Chapter 122 122: Widow
"……Damn it."

Calculated based on memory fragments.

This time the unlucky guy was a hunted cyberpsychopath.

Do we have to deal with the special operations team?

John guessed in the most pessimistic direction, packed up his belongings and left the scene.

The two black spiders climbed in the maze and disappeared from his sight soon. If you want to check their location, you can locate them through the Atlanta virtual network.

Not even a single inhibitor was left in John's body.

Among the materials required for production, the most difficult to obtain are implant fragments containing biological information.

At present, the only way to obtain it is to dig slowly in landfills. The fragments sifted out can be roughly divided into three categories.

The first is as an inhibitor raw material.

The black spider used as an excavation tool was modified through a special program with a T number.

[Mission target update]

Get into the low buildings.

John returned to the group rental area according to his memory. A few days ago, he and Barry visited the families of the missing municipal maintenance workers.

John still doesn't understand the principle.

The roaring machinery of the landfill was blocked out.

Tasks always give something, and if you do it a lot, you can always find the pattern. Maybe some of the rewards contain the answer to the question?
The magnetic door slammed shut.

Street lamps stood beside the road.

The front windshield was switched to polarized mode, which immediately blocked the pale and dazzling sunlight, leaving only the cyan data stream reflected on John's face.

The second will bring a small amount of cash.

John briefly overlooked the intricate cherry blossom cross street, then left the elevated road and entered the slums.

The shadow of the advertisement towers into the clouds.

[Go to the Sakura Crossing Group Rental Area. (unacommpolished)】

Get out of the car.

Vehicle information popped up on the glass screen.

There are also poisonous insects and homeless people in the alleys.

The high-rise buildings of Eden City approached, turning from the background into a real behemoth towering overhead.

"Whoo~"

There were white faces like John, but it was rare for young mercenaries to set foot in the Owl Town Gang's territory.

John felt slightly cooler, as if he had retreated into a cave where bats swarm.

The Jurassic ZT15 turned around, and the run-flat tires rolled over gravel and various debris, making a dense rustling sound.

There is a living person behind every step and roller shutter door.

In front of him was a pattern composed of a skull and a girl's skin.

There is less and less grit under the wheels.

He threw up the metal shim, caught it, and closed the driver's door of the armored vehicle.

John wrote down each confusion and suppressed the crazy thoughts.

Garbage accumulates according to a certain pattern and is evenly scattered on every rusty metal plate and cement manhole cover.

The maintenance cost is obviously not as fast as the damage, so the municipal government simply saves the budget for this area. Anyway, there is no need for lighting during the day, and it will be covered with colorful lights at night.

The jumble of cones and sheds are connected by electrical wires.

John walked through the arched metal of the checkpoint.

John wandered along the graffiti that pleased his eyes, and after walking for about five minutes, he stopped in front of the half-open rolling shutter door.

They glanced at John with tired eyes, and each was doing the things at hand or unproductive topics.

The yellow lines and green lights on the asphalt are slightly distorted.

The third will trigger task information.

Daytime system starts.

What are the criteria for using wreckage as raw material for inhibitors?
Why can task rewards "predict" the future?
What's so special about these deceased people who triggered the quest?
……

The task prompt did not give a specific address.

Thinking is not something I am good at.

The tenants are mainly Asian and African Americans.

Small pockets of brightly colored materials are dotted near large expanses of concrete buildings, offshore docks have forklifts and containers, and gray water laps against the banks.

Daytime temperatures are high.

Faded by industrial dust and humidity from unknown sources, many words and patterns were layered on top, becoming evidence of the bursting or extinguishing of inspiration among those young people.

Click.

A very deliberate cocking sound.

【头を好くして动かな...Be smart and don't move. (Japanese)]

A low warning came from behind.

Although it is Japanese, it has an American pronunciation.

"Can you understand what I'm saying?"

John stood there and calmly shifted his gaze from the graffiti to the broken glass at the intersection.

"Don't fucking move, Fake Squid!"

The gangster in the leather jacket switched to English, and pressed forward with the gun, but it hit the hard Sean Westan, making a dull collision through the clothes.

Steam puffed out from the alleyway.

The robber forced John to move forward. His eyes left the shadows and saw a metal spine through the light. His breathing became much thicker, but he felt nervous as if he was riding a tiger.

He hesitated for a moment and suddenly pushed forward. In his imagination, it should be - the kidnapped person stumbled to the ground, turned around and plunged into the building complex, as if nothing happened today.

But he pushed short.

John didn't even use Sianwistan, he just responded through mirror reflection.

He turned sideways, removed the opponent's gun, and even raised the back of his hand to smash the bridge of the robber's nose.

The situation reversed instantly.

John grabbed his neck and took the gun away, feeling the strange weight as soon as he took it.

He frowned and raised the weapon, started scanning, and glanced at the thick metal block above, then turned it over to look at the longer and thicker handle.

[Weapon: Widow [Kinetic Short Spray]]

[Module: Shotgun Confinement, Smart Reloading]

[Description: A creative modified weapon, with street parts and careful maintenance, another masterpiece from the saw manufacturer. 】

John raised his eyebrows.

His prosthetic eye database is loaded by Blacklight itself, which can scan out ruthless characters who hide their identities, and covers most of the weapons and equipment on the market.

This is the first time I've seen this "unofficial" descriptor.

After the black light is upgraded through the Pandora algorithm, there are some small detail changes that have not yet been discovered.

John held the robber hostage and paused for a few seconds.

The blood flowed from his cheek to the tip of his chin, and then dripped onto his jacket and the floor. After waking up from the dizziness and severe pain, he began to struggle violently.

John locked the other person's throat and warned sharply in his ear.

"Stop moving around. I'm keeping you alive temporarily to confirm if there are any accomplices around."

The robber's eyes widened after hearing this.

He struggled even more violently, trying to make a sound, so much so that John had to control the strength of his knuckles to avoid crushing the other person's throat.

Clang.

A shadow emerged from the alley entrance.

John immediately swung the muzzle of the gun away, and relied on his strong reflexes to control his fingers, so that he did not pull the trigger immediately.

That's a little kid.

He carried no weapons, only a knife polished from steel.

There's even tape on the grip.

"……Damn it."

John cursed.

Although he had killed countless people, he was not so bad as to mindlessly shoot a child - if that knife had been turned into a troll or a bomb, things might have been different.

【Jun, escape...Run! (Japanese)]

The robber struggled desperately, kicking on the electrical box and knocking John down. At the same time, he screamed at the child to leave. After losing control, he plunged into the alley without looking back.

John had no intention of pursuing him.

He stood up and looked around the cold intersection. There were pornographic posters on the rolling shutter doors.

The wet stagnant water reflected the neon signs.

The robbers and children disappeared, leaving only this well-modified gun heavy in the palm of my hand.

"Damn it, what's wrong with this?"

John muttered something and put the gun back into his waist, but a text message suddenly popped up in front of his eyes.

[Mission target update]

[Find the robber's home. (unacommpolished)】

[Does not cause a kill. (optional)]

"Fake!"

John snarled into the air. The prompt was given a little late, and he almost pulled the trigger just now.

Messiah prosthetic eyes activated.

The narrow and cold alley in front of John was immediately covered with gridded lines, converting the buildings into a huge and dense data flow.

The filter disappears after a while.

Highlight areas in the shape of footprints and handprints are left on the steaming manhole covers and peeling cement walls, which gradually fade over time.

John raised his hood and followed.

The wet water fell down, leaving dark marks on the flannel sweatshirt.

The metal was shaken.

A pair of running shoes with graffiti stepped through puddles.

The fugitive suppressed his steps and breath, and turned back to observe the situation in the alley.

"He didn't chase me."

The air conditioner water fell down.

The cold liquid slid down his injured cheek, and blood gathered in front of his lips and neck. His tongue licked his cracked and smelly mouth, bringing back a smell of rust.

The robber was just a teenager. He and his younger brother were both of mixed race. Judging from their appearance, they most likely had the same father.

"We lost the gun."

He lifted up and took off the clothes that were hanging to dry, and pressed on his red, swollen and bruised nose to stop the bleeding.

"Asshole, it hurts so much!"

The boy bent down and dipped his face in water to wipe it clean. He seemed to be more worried about other problems than the broken bones.

"Mom will kill me, so... can you say that you stole the gun and wanted to play with it, but the dog from Xiao Town snatched it away, and I was injured when I went to get it?"

The younger brother named Jun next to him scratched the wall with a knife.

[Mom, I don’t believe it. 】

His throat was glowing, and the skin on his throat was atrophied, as if due to some kind of genetic disease, and he could only speak with the help of an old-fashioned implant.

[Why, rob, him. 】

"The maintenance guy in the building next door, remember? No one knows why they suddenly moved out, but I saw it..."

The brother wiped away the blood and threw away the clothes.

"A white policeman came to warn them and fired a shot in the room. The bullet hole was so wide..."

He gestured to his brother with his fingers.

"The bastard we robbed just now was in the same car as the policeman. I remember that face."

【very dangerous. 】

While the two were talking, they had already passed through the group rental buildings. Their heads were covered by road domes and giant pipes, and industrial gases and wires passed through a jungle composed of steel.

Electronic light signs and scrolling advertisements shine behind you.

The brothers looked back from time to time.

"I'm a little unsteady."

【Xiaoding Gang. 】

The younger brother reminded in a rough mechanical voice.

The brother immediately tightened his leather jacket and pulled him into his shadow.

There are occasional passers-by on the wet streets. During the day, the Sakura Crossing is quiet and depressing. The citizens living at the foot of high-rise buildings rarely waste their humanity and vitality.

Except gang bangers.

Several locomotives revved up their accelerators and crushed neon lights everywhere. Exaggerated laughter and obscene words floated in the stagnant water.

Even if the sun is shining brightly in other areas of the city.

It's always humid here.

Citizens who hate the accumulation of water in their air conditioners will hold up umbrellas, and the umbrella surface composed of a circle of light strips and fluorescent patterns intersects with each other, echoing the hardened projection in the distance and the lanterns in the public courtyard.

drip.

Cars honked warnings.

Drag racing parties caused minor congestion.

The brothers took the opportunity to dash across the street and merge into another cluster of cheap shops and concrete walls.

【Shop-Mingzi Beef Don】

Two of the light strips on the sign went out.

In the alleyway between the shop building and the group rental apartment, there is a sunken area. A curtain is hung on the outside. When you lift it, you can see a row of high stools and signboards.

The proprietress is a middle-aged woman with a sullen expression.

There was a cheap e-cigarette dangling from his mouth, his hair was wrapped under a white cap, and there were faded tattoos on both arms.

She is also the "Akiko" in the store's name.

Tall, thin, of white descent, but speaks fluent Japanese.

There was no doubt that the two brothers were scolded bloody, and the roars came from the shop and echoed in the sparse streets.

Ding bell~
The customer bell attracted the attention of three people.

【いらっし……Welcome. 】

"what!"

After the two brothers saw the figure clearly, they were immediately frightened and scrambled. There was no place to escape in the store, so they could only prepare for resistance. The younger brother even picked up the polished steel knife.

John sat quietly in his chair.

He reached over the terminal to select a rice bowl, torn between sake and beer.

The woman sent the two children through the back door to carry the frozen ingredients.

She scolded her sternly and asked her brother to take her younger brother. Then she worked alone in the kitchen and brought the prepared food to the table.

“The rice is not steamed.”

Akiko spoke a little coldly, using English, with a more familiar and unfamiliar accent than Japanese.

John pushed the food away without answering.

Akiko seemed to think it was too blunt and explained again.

"...There are very few customers during the day, so we usually serve food to go with drinks, and if necessary, egg-yaki."

[Item: Beef Don Chowder]

[Recipe: Synthetic meat cubes, tofu, miso buns]

The fragrance is strong and pungent.

John remembers going to Sakashima Izakaya on Sakura Crossing Street with his company colleagues.

The taste is similar to here.

After all, in an era when industrial formulas are relatively transparent, the differences that techniques can produce are getting smaller and smaller.

Akiko was finally overwhelmed by the silence.

She tempered her anger with some apologies. "What did the two of them do?"

"robbery."

Without raising his head, John stuffed three slices of synthetic fat beef rolls soaked in soup into his mouth.

Akiko was taking a deep breath and frowning.

[Mission target update]

[Get clues from Akiko. (unacommpolished)】

"...don't worry, actually..."

John chewed the food, hesitated, and took out the short spray pistol named [Widow] from the back of the hood.

"They have already made compensation."

The metal parts met the heavy frosted glass.

Akiko's heart sank.

There were footsteps and the sound of collapse in the shop behind me.

The two children who were observing secretly couldn't help but come forward after all.

"I am a mercenary and have a business. I need you to give me some clues and suggestions."

John never paid attention to the kid.

There are many homeless gangsters in Eden City. Similar family situations are wholesale like copy and paste in Sakura Cross Street, which also adds important fresh blood to various gangs.

John took out the remains of the prosthetic limb in a clear plastic bag.

Akiko took it hesitantly, and her eyelids jumped up after seeing it clearly.

"What do you want to check? Who gave you the commission?"

"Do I look like one of those loud-mouthed non-professional mercenaries?"

"Huh~ This is my husband's thing. He died at the hands of the special operations team a few years ago."

Akiko picked up the e-cigarette and puffed on it.

The two young boys were driven away.

John picked up the sake and tasted it. The taste was not much different from industrial alcohol mixed with water.

He frowned, put it down, and continued to ask.

"Cyberpsychosis?"

"At least that's what they say."

(End of this chapter)