My cyberpsychosis is a task prompt

Chapter 237: Palmer Charm
Ghouls are too easy to spot.

Cheap and extravagant prosthetic bodies, artificial blood vessels, bodies hollowed out by illicit drugs, heavily modified surgical sutures, and a long list of wanted criminal notices.

With a gun barrel stuffed in his mouth, he immediately raised his hands, his red prosthetic eye tugging at his eyebrowless forehead.

I was both scared and surprised.

Pedestrians scattered and fled, some slowing down on the verge of being killed by stray bullets, others raising their middle fingers in mockery, some encouraging others to shoot, and still others cursing as they walked away...

They weren't concerned about the extra body in the alley; rather, they were criticizing John for killing without warning. Bullets don't have eyes, and they were truly unlucky if they were hit.

Some people simply cannot escape it.

For example, the tattoo shop behind the ghoul.

"Damn it, what bad luck! Get lost! If you splatter blood on the shop entrance, I'll make you lick it clean!"

The shop owner was radiant from head to toe.

He grinned, spat out a mouthful of phlegm, and his two rows of purple, diamond-encrusted teeth were dazzling.

Rumbling--

The rusty roller shutter was suddenly pulled down.

"Waaah—hey, I said..."

The ghoul dared not move, stammering as if it were trying a difficult sex doll for the first time, slowly spitting out the gun barrel, and then speaking in a wronged and angry tone.

"Damn it, didn't you guys buy the tickets, or did I mistake you for someone else?"

"What tickets!?"

John lowered his rifle.

It wasn't that he was completely letting his guard down, but rather that he was observing whether there were any of his accomplices around—John wouldn't even need to activate Sianwistan to kill this small-time thug in front of him.

"Old Chris's treasure hunt, damn it, the buyer said he wants two front-row tickets to trade here in a modified Eisenberg 577, isn't that you two?!"

The ghoul took out two dark purple chips from his open, shiny coat.

【Item: Blind auction tickets * 2】

[Description: A pass for illegal transactions on the black market.]

"YEP~"

Oros reached out and snatched the ticket, held it high, and turned away like a child who had just had a toy snatched.

She didn't run away, but instead sipped her drink and looked around. When she came across a stall selling contraband, she would go up and ask random questions.

"Hey!"

The ghoul mustered his courage and stopped John.

"Final payment, buddy, you haven't paid your girl yet! You guys are in such a hurry, and it's a specific time slot. I went through a lot of trouble to get this!"

"Fake..."

John paid two hundred euros, looking quite annoyed.

He followed Orlos and found her chatting animatedly with the female boss who sold synthetic adrenaline. The woman lifted her coat to reveal a long leg with high heels.

There is a coded injection muscle on the inner side of the groin.

She pouted her red lips and recommended some exciting gadgets to Olos in an ambiguous tone.

"Even the toughest mercenary will become as soft as a cake against you; a trial sample is included!"

"I'm really tempted. Where did this medicine come from?"

"Gaia Cells, Longsheng Pharmaceuticals, and the emergency response team's special suppliers—we have many channels..."

"Let me think."

Olos covered her mouth and squatted in front of the stall.

The hood couldn't cover her delicate chest.

Her high-end faux leather outfit immediately caught the female boss's attention. She silently whistled and took a deep drag on her e-cigarette with a dazed look in her eyes.

"Damn it, stop thinking about it and get down to business."

John, like an oblivious companion, roughly tucked Olos under his arm and carried her away.

The female boss showed a regretful expression.

She blew a kiss to their backs and exhaled a puff of smoke that matched her hair color.

John didn't believe that Orlos would be interested in inferior counterfeit drugs.

But he knew very well:
There must be a ghoul behind the female boss. Her high-end artificial leather outfit can fetch a good price on the black market. After being peeled off, cleaned, and maintained, it would be the object of fierce competition among sex partners.

Street vendors know their goods, but they don't know the people behind them.

A woman like Orlos is not someone you can easily seduce.

"Who are you trying to catch by pretending to be a fat sheep?"

John questioned in a muffled voice, and put Orlos down.

She didn't resist at all, and her portrayal of a rebellious girl was very well done. She even got into character and wanted to go even crazier.

"I do not know either."

Oros looked completely innocent, her distressed expression exaggeratedly exaggerated.

John frowned.

"What if I mess this up for you? What if your target gets too close and I accidentally kill it?"

"Whatever you want," Oros said indifferently.

John felt a strange sense of familiarity and instantly realized that the target she was looking for was someone he couldn't easily eliminate.

Ollo led John through the streets of Palmer until there were enough eyes gathered in the shadows before suddenly turning into an excessively noisy underground bar.

It really is underground.

It can only be reached by prying open a manhole cover.

When Olos jumped, two muscular men, clearly wearing injections, caught her.

John slid down the escalator and found the passageway to be incredibly narrow.

Two burly men in suits stood with their hands clasped in the middle, completely blocking even the electronic light boards. There were also electronic gates on both sides, which could be completely sealed off with just one security alarm.

A bomb is needed to solve the problem.

Killing the two security guards wouldn't work either, as their bodies would block the entrance, giving the customers inside time to react.

……

John instinctively gave the scan.

Both burly men were members of the Black Gold Gang—a good choice for West Side gangsters to impress; their muscular physiques, whether real or not, at least looked intimidating.

The competitive pressure and cost of living in the western district are not low.

It's perfectly normal for them to find a side hustle.

It's impossible for the Black Gold Gang to actually assign specific jobs to each member, especially with the current rapid expansion of the gang, where both benefits and job scarcity are increasing.

When John was lost in thought...

Oros has already raised her ticket to pass through the check.

The walls are equipped with cameras and scanning devices; red data grids sweep across the tickets, verification stripes glow, and the eyes of the two security guards are as bright as vending machine buttons.

"wait."

The security guard twisted his thick neck, loosened his shoulders, and reached out to stop John, who was following behind.

"You can't bring this stuff in."

What if I say no?

John glanced at the hole in the wall next to him, where there was an automatic bag that could store items—just throw them in, and they would be bagged and fall deeper into the pipe, perhaps stored in a special safe, or perhaps played with by those unscrupulous henchmen, or even disassembled and stolen.

He didn't trust any of Palmer's people.

The muscular man looked terrible, but instead of immediately starting a conflict, he calmly made a phone call to his team.

He stared at the two people in front of him and spoke.

"Boss, John is here... um, that's the guy."

John has accumulated a considerable amount of "street reputation" since his debut. Within Eden City, his "Western District Influence" is the highest.

It's perfectly normal for the Black Gold Gang to recognize him.

"receive."

The security guard straightened his body and shook his thick neck.

"Go in, booth B30."

"Oh yeah~"

Oros had been standing there like she wasn't there the whole time, but when she heard the security guard let her through, she excitedly raised her two long sleeves and the beverage bottle she had been carrying the whole way, and squeezed inside.

John quickly followed.

[Shop - Dead Man's Camp Bar]

Squeezing through the narrow entrance, you'll find yourself in a cheap bar area that's even more spacious than an underground parking garage.

The shop has a purely industrial style with no unnecessary decorations.

Laser lights weave a web in the dim air.

The central bar was even pieced together from compressed, scrapped cars, with an alloy plate on top, so oddly shaped customers could smash it without a second thought.

The working conditions for strippers are also very poor.

The so-called booths offer absolutely no privacy; as long as you pay, girls wearing glowing accessories will dance wildly.

John followed the markings on the platform to find B30.

A fat man with a colorful beard smiled and opened his arms.

"Hey, look who it is! The famous John! What brings him to Old Chris's place?"

John didn't know him.

That's not the point.

Oros leaped out of the electronic fog, like a wicked outcast, and clung to John's back, giving the middle finger to the naked woman who was extending an invitation beside her.

"Haha, your girl is really lively."

Old Chris let out an even louder laugh.

As an intermediary.

He didn't recognize Olos.

(End of this chapter)