My cyberpsychosis is a task prompt

Chapter 248: Black Eat Black
[Mission target update]

[Head to the underground clinic. (Not achieved)]

Yura was right.

Mascare and his ghoul team did indeed find the badly wounded falcon at an underground clinic in Palmer.

John arrived near the address agreed upon over the phone, parked his car at the intersection, checked the submachine gun under his coat again, and then pushed open the rusty iron gate.

Honestly.

This road is very hidden.

Underground clinics on every street corner are more or less associated with crime. If you want to save lives or make money with your prosthetic skills in the cyber age, you'll inevitably have to deal with ghouls.

John didn't go in immediately. Instead, he subconsciously examined the way he came and deliberately walked a distance in both directions until he had a general idea of ​​the surrounding terrain before disappearing behind the billboard.

The cement steps are covered with faded graffiti.

The air was filled with a sour smell and a pungent disinfectant odor.

John pushed open the old-fashioned folding iron door.

Two ghouls with their arms tucked in blocked the way.

Their hair was twisted into neat, pointed strands.

"The clinic is booked out, get lost. If your injury isn't serious, come back later. If you're in a real hurry, I can take a look at you!"

"Find the anesthetic."

John kicked away the prosthetic parts scattered at his feet.

"I'm here to pick up the goods I reserved."

The clinic was in chaos, clearly the site of a fierce fight; the air even smelled of burning smart bullets.

A gurgling sound came from the shadows.

Something heavy stood up from the rusty chair.

The short, stout body of the anesthetic emerged in the dim light; in the dark room, only the prosthetic eye could be seen flashing, and the iron ring on his lip glistened with oil.

"Do you have enough money? The final payment, John."

His tone was languid, as if he were always half asleep.

John, however, noticed keenly that his hands were covered in blood, and very fresh blood at that.

Pay the remaining balance. (Optional)

Inspection required. (Optional)

"I want to inspect the goods. Even if it's just died, the price is different."

He adopted a businesslike attitude.

The request is also reasonable.

"Okay, come in, everything is prepared for you."

The few feet that were crowded at the doorway moved further inside at the same time.

The lights above their heads were flashing.

An underground clinic surrounded by ghouls—what a terrible trading environment.

Even the power supply seems to be having problems.

"Street racers are wiring their cars through public electrical boxes, causing the lights to malfunction all the time. More than 30% of the buildings in Palmer are like this, so don't worry about it."

The anesthetic was like soothing a lamb.

John didn't speak, his gaze shifting between the corner camera and the open organ transport box, seemingly searching for something.

"The goods are in the operating room."

The anesthetic led the way, occasionally tugging at the prosthetic limbs hanging from the ceiling, the metal structure rattling like a wind chime.

The smell of medicine became stronger.

The air temperature became extremely low.

John clearly saw—a ghoul beside him—the moisture on the cheap prosthetic limb instantly condensed into frost as the iron door of the operating room was opened.

Smoke floated in the air.

The shadowless lamp made my eyes itch.

In the blinding white light, a figure bound to the operating table appeared.

John was immediately drawn to the other man's red hair.

The metal table in front of me looks more like a slaughterhouse than an operating table.

The kestrel was lying face down, bound tightly, her coat cut open from behind, revealing a S.A.W.S. military-grade shirt covering her spine.

"Genuine product."

The anesthetic casually handed over a test report.

"Performance is good."

The bloodstains on his fingertips were fresh.

There was a pool of crimson on the floor.

"Anesthetic" pinched the rubber apron on her chest and explained.

"This girl is quite a troublemaker. She was discovered when the doctor was administering the sedative, and she was kicked and had two bones broken and her arm broken. Luckily, my men arrived in time, otherwise she would have escaped."

What's with the blood?

“I was afraid she would run away, so I removed her knee joint parts. Anyway, what you want is her spine, and she's still alive, so it won't affect our deal.”

Remove gloves after anesthesia.

He twirled his thick knuckles on the back of the kestrel. Alloy rivets were embedded in the artificial leather.

The product logo is slightly worn.

This Sinwiss model is a classic, with very few remaining. You can see the iconic "double row of neural connectors" with the naked eye, as well as the multiple system slots.

"Whoosh—hiss, fur!"

The unconscious mercenary was instantly awakened.

Her hands and feet were tightly bound by shackles and straps, and a rough metal rod was held in her mouth. Saliva mixed with blood dripped continuously, but she still tried to lift her head and stare wide-eyed.

John checked it again.

This does indeed match the character information.

The kestrel had a horizontal scar across its right eye, and the area around the scar was now a mess of sweat and tears, but its pupils burned with anger, reflecting John's image.

The metal rod in her mouth made a sickening sound.

The anesthetic nodded and completely tore open the clothes on the back of the falcon until its tailbone was exposed.

He had no regard for human emotions, only for assessing and calculating the quality of livestock meat.

"If there are no problems, I'm going to start disassembling it. The spine will be removed first, and the organs and other prosthetics will be kept to be sold secondhand."

He picked up a mask and covered his lips with the metal ring.

"I suggest you go out. If you're worried, you can stay and keep an eye on things."

hum-

Disassembling the spine is a delicate task.

The laser saw, pulled out under anesthesia, was buzzing, clearly indicating that it was going to be used for large-scale cutting before further detailing...

Clang.

"Woo--Woo--"

The kestrels struggled violently, spitting out saliva with each heavy breath.

Immediately afterwards, a stream of scalding liquid fell onto her back, but no further pain followed.

John drew his mantis knife and severed the anesthetic's wrist. Another knife popped out of its sheath, and in an instant, he turned and stabbed a ghoul who was about to draw his gun.

"Ah—you fucking John! Double-crossing me—"

The anesthetic gripped the bleeding arm and roared.

John activated the S.A.S ...

The ghouls drew their guns and fired back.

The room was suddenly filled with gunfire.

[Mission target update]

[Slay the remaining ghouls. (Not achieved)]

Take the kestrel away alive. (Optional)

The kestrel lay on the cold slaughtering table, completely unaware of what was happening. It tried to break free but was powerless, its exposed muscles trembling with fear.

"Cough, cough... Damn it, John, after today, you've made an enemy of every ghoul in the street..."

puff!

The mantis blade pierced through the anesthetic spine and exited down the throat—coolant gushed out along with bright red blood.

"I have no future."

John answered in a deep voice.

The drugged corpse slipped from the blade and collapsed onto the floor with a thud, its prosthetic eye wide open, reflecting the flashes of gunfire in the room.

After a while.

The room returned to silence.

The stench of blood in the air grew stronger.

"Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh—"

The kestrel was breathing heavily.

She could feel the taut restraints being loosened one by one, but her stiff body couldn't return to normal immediately.

Clang.

The bit in its mouth fell to the floor.

The kestrel spat out a mouthful of saliva mixed with broken teeth and blood. Its jaw, which had almost dislocated, twitched several times before it finally managed to utter an extremely hoarse sound.

"Who are you!?"

"A mercenary who does the work, just like you."

John glanced at her, then kicked the gun away.

He remained vigilant, slowly making his way through each room before finally unplugging the data cable and using black light to destroy all the data in the clinic's surveillance system.

The kestrels were also busy.

The prosthetic leg in her knee was removed, and she could only use a splint to simply fix her broken leg as she gritted her teeth and tried to stand up.

"Ugh... fuck!"

The kestrel still knelt on the ground.

"Let's go."

John, expressionless, grabbed a spare sheet, wrapped it around her a few times, and hoisted it onto his shoulder.

(End of this chapter)