My cyberpsychosis is a task prompt

Chapter 239: Treasure

[Mission Objective Updated:]

[The auction game was completed. (Not achieved)]

The atmosphere was instantly heated up.

The warehouse, which cost five thousand yuan, saw its value increase twentyfold, which excited the other customers.

Old Chris wasn't idle either.

He would boast that this was a legendary mercenary's safe house, or that it was a gang leader's secret stash, and then he would cite exciting cases from the history of blind auctions to entice many people to open their wallets.

John went through the warehouse numbers, then looked back and found that none of them were priced below 20,000.

Did you find all the money in the box?
John was a pragmatist. Although he understood the allure of this game, which had elements of "treasure hunting" and "gambling," he never fantasized about turning his fortunes around with a secondhand warehouse.

Oros poked him again.

John realized what was happening and increased the price in the warehouse number where he had stopped.

This is a new number.

She wasn't fixated on the previous warehouse.

【Number: #074】

Current bid: €4.25

John started a new auction, and after a round of bidding, the price finally settled at 6 euros.

Palmer is not some high-end den of iniquity.

There are different levels of blind shooting.

Old Chris organizes events like this every day. The entry threshold and final transaction price are generally not high, and the audience consists of marginalized people with spare money and corporate employees who want to kill time.

If you spend tens of thousands of dollars, you'll definitely feel the difference.

Customers in booth B44 couldn't help but turn their heads to look over.

He was also the one who raised the price at that warehouse.

John is basically certain.

This guy is Orlos's target.

His hair was neatly combed, and he wore a bespoke suit. Two or three company soldiers wearing sunglasses sat next to him, probably executives who were taking a break from their busy schedules to have some fun.

John did not scan immediately.

He was worried about the company's security situation, and also because Orlos hadn't given him a clearer mission objective.

The price of the warehouse, numbered #211, was also fixed at 100,000 euros.

There were no scenes of passionate verbal sparring as I had imagined, nor any scenes of recklessly spending money to fight to the death.

Company employees aren't, well, at least not all of them are idiots.

John noticed that the booths after B40 were all occupied by similar people.

They were few in number, about five or six in total, scattered in different locations but all had the same characteristics—they were all corporate employees and wealthy and powerful people.

John didn't even need a scan.

Because this elite group is too conspicuous—their clothes are neatly tailored with sharp lines, and the data interfaces are hidden under high-end synthetic fabrics, making them very different from the peasants on the street.

"You've got guts, a company employee dares to come here?"

John leaned back on the sofa, squinted, and muttered a complaint.

"They're all here to have fun."

Old Chris answered him.

"A trend has recently emerged where wealthy people specifically seek out places like ours, the more dangerous the better, including ghoul operating rooms and the cheapest sex doll rooms in gangs..."

"Aren't you afraid of death?"

"I'm scared, but the more scared I am, the more exciting it is. Aren't these rich and lazy idiots just bored out of their minds? Look at the people next to them, they're all bodyguards hired at a high price."

Chris flashed a very businesslike smile.

His prosthetic eye was glowing, his teeth were purple, and a few glistening beads of alcohol clung to his colorful beard.

"Did I upset you?"

Chris bent down and leaned closer to John.

He pushed aside the girls on either side, lowered his voice, and his obese body appeared sinister and imposing in the backlight.

"This kind of 'city tourism' is a great opportunity to make money. I know a few friends who specialize in finding these places, then contacting rich but brainless idiots to come and have fun, filming videos, creating some drama, like a crime scene investigation halfway through, a sudden gang fight, and a few thrilling comebacks, making every customer happy and pulling out their wallets like crazy!"

Why are you telling me all this?

John was somewhat puzzled.

He leaned forward, feigning interest—actually to attract Chris's attention and distract Olos, who was still playing blindfolded on the sofa wearing a headband.

She would occasionally exclaim in surprise as she changed rooms and bid against others.

Orlos plays a sexy doll who is curious, immature, and has personality flaws.

Chris stretched out his chubby hand and made a gesture.

“City tourism always gets boring. I think we can squeeze out one last bit of profit before this way of making money disappears.”

"Are you going to make this a real thing?"

“Smart, John. Adventures are always full of surprises. You can even get shot down while riding a hovercar!”

Chris gave a brief explanation of the plan.

He had prepared a method to disable the security chip, and then carefully selected a group of wealthy clients based on intelligence. He would take action right at the location where the ghoul's super-sensory chip was being filmed. Once the security personnel were eliminated, he could control everyone within thirty seconds.

No emergency response team will come to disturb us.

They would drug people, load them into vehicles, and take them away, making a fortune whether by extorting commissions or dissecting and selling the bodies.

"We're still in the team-building phase, and it just so happens that I've run into you, John. Everyone in the West End has heard of your skills. How about we pull off a heist and take down these stupid corporate dogs!"

"Hehe, to be honest, I'm not very interested."

"Oh, what a pity... Alright, judging by your outfit, you must have a better way to make money."

Old Chris grinned again.

"But that's okay. There are new jobs coming up every day in Palmer. Contact me when you want something different. If there's a job that requires a professional, I'll give you a call too."

Old Chris timed it perfectly; the auction was almost over.

He smiled broadly.

The entire blind auction sold out, with no items going unsold. Coupled with internal price manipulation, John's bidding, and information-driven tactics, the final profit will be substantial.

Old Chris is that kind of businessman.

Click.

Another new cigar.

The obese middleman recalibrated his flesh on the sofa, stomped his feet, and someone combed his beard, wiped his body, and brought out a complex array of illegal drugs.

The place became noisy.

The successful bidders got up and left their booths, returning to the ground through hidden roller shutters. There were many routes, each with bodyguards in charge.

This is what illegal venues are like.

The entrances are very restricted and strictly limited, but there are many exits, most of which are one-way streets.

"John, don't rush off."

Old Chris called out to him.

“There are many types of middlemen. I’m the business type, so I don’t like to offend people. If you have a grudge against those corporate dogs, don’t settle it in Palmer, or at least, stay away from the warehouse district.”

"You're still particular about this?"

"Of course, rules and reputation are very important. What I rent out is not just a warehouse, but a safe haven. Similarly, what I sell is a treasure that contains both surprises and dangers, but it absolutely cannot be a trap from which there is no return, as that would affect my business."

Chris held up a bottle of liquid that resembled industrial alcohol, and his prosthetic eye peeked out from the gap above his laser-etched sunglasses.

"What do you think?"

[Promise not to cause trouble. (Optional)]

No promises made. (Optional)

"I'll see to it."

John made a worthless promise.

Old Chris nodded very seriously.

He waved his hand, and someone handed him a ticket, which was much more exquisite than the one he had seen before.

It has a black background with gold trim and comes with a biometric binding device.

The security guard clearly showed the items, explained their purpose, and placed them into an elegant, sealed box in front of John.

【Item: Blind auction ticket [Limited-time event]】

[Description: Invitation to high-end illicit transactions involving rare black market goods. Offers opportunities to participate in large-scale, impromptu auctions or premeditated illegal gambling operations, with both higher risks and rewards.]

Old Chris didn't say anything definitive.

Every intermediary has risk management and deterrence mechanisms, but some use harsh methods while others prefer to be bribed.

As a businessman, he was clearly the latter.

But that doesn't mean Chris is easy to talk to.

Blind auctions can also encounter those reckless individuals who have no money in their pockets but dare to shout out prices blindly, or those who come to disrupt the event and deliberately cause trouble. There are even cases where unsuccessful bids turn into offline robberies.

The middleman must be punished accordingly.

Palmer had no shortage of ghouls and Rift Party members, and plenty of professionals skilled at killing as a warning and disposing of bodies. John escorted Orlos out of the auction through a rusty roller shutter door.

He made sure no one was following him, then lifted the suitcase containing the tickets and said to Olos.

"The middleman gave a gift. You need to make it clear whether that company bastard wants to kill or kidnap you. If things really escalate, you'll have to break ties with them."

"Ok?"

Orlos feigned confusion.

"I didn't say I was going to kill anyone, but this thing is pretty good. If you have time, you can go and relax."

"You came here for this?"

John frowned.

"What exactly is it used for?"

"Toy."

Orlos answered calmly.

She walked slowly, her hood covering her glasses, and her high-top, thick-soled leather shoes made a clattering sound as she stepped into the puddles.

John realized it immediately.

Oros was thinking.

She didn't get what she wanted.

The scene fell silent for a moment.

The two people walked side by side, with a manhole cover above their heads.

Sunlight pierced through the steam and the crowds in the alley, leaving streaks of light in the spacious industrial transport pipelines.

As they stepped into the shadows, a faint yellow glow appeared—it was the flashing of Oros's prosthetic eye, and various pieces of information were being gathered into the hands of this middleman.

There are many types of middlemen.

Old Chris was a businessman with limited social standing, and his circle of acquaintances consisted mainly of all sorts of people from the streets and alleys.

Orlos is clearly the more powerful one.

John, lost in thought, looked up at the manhole covers that flashed past him.

Water was hanging from the edge of the grid.

tick, tick...

Oros suddenly stopped in her tracks.

Having processed the intelligence, she smiled again, like a sexy doll that had been disconnected and reconnected, returning to her role.

Oros took the box from John, bound his biometric information to it, shook the soft metal ticket, turned it over and played with it, and then stuffed it into John's pocket with a disdainful look.

clang clang.

The empty box was carelessly tossed into a corner of the sewer.

"What a pity, you're about to die. As a mercenary, you've never even played a real blind shot."

Oros's tone was full of sarcasm.

She flipped over and walked backwards in the pipe, explaining to John the advanced techniques behind blind shooting.

This neon-lit city is alive.

Mercenaries and middlemen are constantly busy, resources come together and then disappear, always leaving behind unknown or inaccessible treasures in the corners of the city.

Old Chris wasn't entirely exaggerating.

Those vanished street legends may leave behind some legacy in hidden places, perhaps behind a shutter door that has lost power, or in a hidden laboratory in the wasteland.

John nodded.

He suddenly thought of the "Black Spider" and the "Captain" he had left at the landfill.

If I die, will anyone discover those deliberately collected "windfall" accounts?

Will anyone discover the usage of the "special inhibitor"?
For the Black Money Gang, whose rents were expiring, could those weapons and ammunition stored in the Dani Street apartment be considered another "warehouse"?
This city really does leave behind residue during the process of chewing.

"It just takes a bit of luck."

Orlos raised the straw and squinted one eye.

"But some treasures can be 'man-made'."

For example, a gang's weapon hideout was exposed.

There are many sources of intelligence; it could be an internal betrayal, information from within the ECPD, or even a clue received unintentionally by an intermediary...

They would select a group of "professionals" to control the situation in advance, determine the scale of the auction, and then send messages to buyers who held "tickets." Once everyone had arrived, they would blow up the weapon hiding place.

Live auction!

Pay in one hand and deliver in one hand.

The organizers will arrange for people to fend off enraged gang members and will also spare resources to protect clients who have paid.

When the time was up, they all scattered.

Those items that weren't sold on-site were simply robbed by everyone who had the skills. Whoever got them kept them. Before the cops came to clear the place, several big customers had already slipped away. The remaining poor and greedy people had to bear the risk of being shot by the gang and chased by the police.

John looked at Orlos.

"Sounds exciting, have you ever done it?"

"I am the organizer."

Oros looked up and smiled, appearing very humble.

"I've blown up multinational corporations' storage rooms, dug up data legacies in cyberspace, even carried the head of a legendary mercenary to extract his remaining consciousness, and ruthlessly looted private armories..."

"Awesome."

John nodded, noticing a detail.

"You seem to be in a good mood? Have you found out what you're looking for?"

"That's it."

As if she had eyes in the back of her head, Oros turned back just as she was about to reach the steps.

The heat and noise came crashing down on us.

John and Orlos returned to the ground.

The customers who had been there earlier gradually gathered around.

They had all paid and were eager to open the treasure.

Palmer is full of red brick buildings, with rows of factories clearly laid out and warehouses hidden in the shade, just enough to escape the heat. There are quite a few people who come to join in the fun.

Old Chris's treasure hunt announcements have become a regular feature of Palmer's program.

John also noticed the group of company dogs.

They came up via the inner elevator, following a clear route without trying to avoid people. Compared to the auction site, there were now more security guards following them, along with guides familiar with Palmer and professional staff responsible for filming and recording.

"That's quite a show of force; they're really not afraid of death."

John murmured softly.

Orlos showed no reaction, just as she said, she wasn't interested in those corporate dogs.

She stood on tiptoe from time to time, looking very expectant.

Among the group of corporate dogs, someone noticed John and brazenly followed him, standing right in front of warehouse number [#211], seemingly wanting to witness its final fate.

John, not wanting to cause trouble, paid a little more money to have the person in charge of filming go up and open the door.

Paying for a service guarantees a high level of service.

They scanned it with thermal imaging and donned heavy armor before hacking into the electronic lock.

slam-la-

The metal roller shutter door was lifted.

"Oh—"

The crowd erupted in cheers.

They saw more than a dozen boxes stacked on a pallet, secured with ropes and rain covers. Most importantly, the clearly visible logo of the Faqi Group came into view!

Goods from the Japanese!
It might just be a brand new prosthetic body that the company is reselling.

John breathed a sigh of relief, but when he turned around, he found that the mastermind behind the scenes, Orlos, had already lost interest.

She swayed as she walked toward the next warehouse.

"Hahahaha!"

New commotion erupted at the warehouse's front door.

The cheers turned into uncontrollable bursts of laughter.

The workers responsible for dismantling the warehouse tore off the outer packaging and discovered that these neatly stacked boxes were all filled with smart toilets.

[Item: Smart Toilet]

Manufacturer: Vagi Kogyo

[Description: The latest product in the SUISIN series, featuring three-dimensional vibration sonic washing, a bio-glazed finish, and zero-touch interaction, customized for a high-quality lifestyle.]

"Fake!"

John immediately realized something was wrong.

He turned around and looked around, but he could no longer see Oros.

The legendary blind shot of Old Chris will have another story added.

A rising star on the West Side spent $100,000 in Palmer, acquiring a collection of high-end toilets amidst much fanfare!
(End of this chapter)