My cyberpsychosis is a task prompt

Chapter 251: Blood
"What?"

John looked towards the back seat of the car.

The kestrel was wrapped tightly in the bed sheet and nestled in the gap between the seats.

Shock and fear were evident in his pair of red ligature eyes.

The information she provided was correct, but there were discrepancies in the details.

At that time, the person who followed Samuel into the [Key Room] on the hovercar was not Hughes, but Red Falcon.

The bigwigs of Eden were shooting at them.

Samuel, who was walking ahead, died.

Hughes, who was responsible for covering the rear, also died.

That horrific image was deeply imprinted in her red prosthetic eyes.

And now, the same pair of eyes.

The floating figure was replaced by Olos.

Data flashed in her pupils; the program was calculating every micro-expression and emotional change of the kestrel.

"You saw it, didn't you?"

"Oros questioned."

Red Falcon has preserved the video footage from the scene.

This is the most valuable intelligence regarding the airship incident, and it's very easy to extract; all you need is a data cable.

But Oros wants the falcon's eyes.

[Mission target update]

[Remove the prosthetic eye from the kestrel. (Optional)]

[Refuse. (Optional)]

John chose a knife that was sharp enough.

Instead of the kestrel sweating profusely, he was thinking about the change in Oros after seeing the kestrel—as long as the result matters, regardless of the means, and even disdainful of exchanging benefits when facing subordinates in the ecological niche.

This is the true face of a middleman.

"Middlemen have no friends, John. Our first lesson when we enter this business is learning to betray and exploit others."

John recalled what Orlos had said.

His hands didn't stop moving—the silver supercar vibrated slightly, and blood splattered on the tables, chairs, and floor mats.

I am the kind of absolutely rational businessman. Negotiation and the exchange of interests are my areas of expertise. If you have the illusion that I am very friendly and capable of in-depth conversations, it's just my social habits at play.

John couldn't help but think:
If the falcon doesn't let go, will Orlos really kill the mercenary's sister?

It's probably possible.

A good woman can always teach a man something.

Why should I do it myself?

Is it simply about getting some blood on your hands?

John showed no emotional reaction; he had long since become desensitized to the brutal scenes after experiencing several bloody mercenary missions.

The basement was very quiet.

Only the kestrels emitted soft panting and groans of pain.

By the time John removed the last muscle that was adhering to a nerve, the air was filled with the smell of disinfectant and fresh blood.

John looked at the [Argos] optical prosthetic eye in his hand—the gaps in the metal threads were a deep red.

Orlos took the prosthetic eye.

All John could see were bloodstained hands.

I am not a good person.

he thought.

clack.

Euryth placed a box in his wet palm.

"The final payment for the hovercar incident is settled."

Ignoring John's blood-stained hands, she grabbed his foul-smelling wrist and pulled him closer, giving him three light kisses on the cheek.

"I forgive you. Goodbye."

Europa left with the falcon's eyes on her.

John stared blankly at the signs of battle in the garage until the falcon in the back seat of his car let out a painful groan.

She is still alive.

Argos brand prosthetic eyes leave some space inside the skull, so removing the cone-shaped main body is not a fatal injury.

John was efficient and calm during the excision, causing no extensive bleeding or abrasions.

The most important point is...

The middleman let her go.

Orlos didn't even take the surgical kit off the ground.

John took emergency measures for the falcon—which only made her feel a little better.

"What should I do with you?"

John gently turned the steering wheel and left the Skyview Apartments.

The falcon in the back looked miserable, and trembled slightly as the vehicle began to shake.

She breathed a sigh of relief, as if she had resigned herself to her fate.

"What are the consequences of offending the middleman? To be honest, I was already dead the moment I jumped off the hovercar. Every extra second I live is a bonus."

This was the ending the kestrel foresaw.

[Talk to the kestrel. (Optional)]

"Maybe it's not that bad? She didn't tell me to kill you."

John said this, but the falcon didn't react. Both of them understood:

John didn't even need to fire a shot; death was only a matter of time.

Silence fell over the car.

John found himself becoming very strange.

In the past, he might have gone straight to a clinic as soon as he left the parking lot, but now he actually needs a reason.

John suddenly realized:
He cut off more than just the kestrel's eye.

Silver Rider 577 slowly drove along the streets as night was about to fall.

The city air, thick with the glow of neon lights and bustling activity, seeped in through the broken window and brushed against the two silent, dying men.

The nice guy fell into self-doubt.

The mercenaries lost their will to survive.

The kestrels suffered a heavy blow; the pressure of repeated escapes turned into tangible darkness after losing their eyes.

Do you still have any acquaintances in the city?

John broke the silence.

The kestrel's almost frozen mind began to think again.

“Yura, have you heard of her? Palmer’s middleman, she’s a cold-on-the-outside-but-warm-on-the-inside kind of girl… Sometimes I can’t even stand it, such a stupid woman, always helping those equally stupid guys…”

She was lost in some kind of memory.

John moved his lips, then closed them, and when he spoke again, he said something different.

Should I take you to find Yura?

"Forget it, let's not cause her any more trouble."

"Row."

John ultimately didn't tell Red Falcon that it was Yura's idea that she eventually fell into the trap of the ghouls and the black clinic.

"The middleman..."

"Yes, but she's different from other middlemen."

"is it?"

John shook his head with a wry smile.

"You don't understand, she's a good person."

The kestrel was still speaking well of Yura.

"A good person...? Whew—"

John breathed a sigh of relief.

He seemed to understand what Oros was trying to tell him.

"In the face of middlemen, marginalized people are a pitiful group, just like companies exploiting the streets. The two sides are not even in the same class, and they can never reach a reconciliation."

John didn't expect the falcon to understand, and tilted his head to ask.

"Besides Yura, is there anyone else in this city who can help you?"

"..."

This time, the falcon thought for a long time, so long that John almost thought she had fainted from blood loss.

A familiar yet unfamiliar name floated out from the back row.

"Safe Haven Company".

"How did you get involved with them?"

"Heh, I'm quite surprised that you know this name... The owner of Haven Company is a retired military officer."

The kestrel's voice grew weaker and weaker.

“He has a veterans’ support foundation, which not many people know about. A few years ago, he screened people in the city with military service experience and gave food to those who had nowhere else to go. That was a way of helping me.”

Have you had any dealings with them since then?

"...No, I went to do some work for Yura..."

This time, the kestrels were truly silent.

John looked at the passenger seat.

There lay a blood-stained metal box, inside which were two rows of black market laundered, anonymous cash chips.

He didn't even need to fire a shot; he could simply slow down and the falcon would die before reaching the funeral home at Sakura Cross Street.

John can also hire the Fall Guys to collect the body, cremate it, and, like Sisal Rope, choose a good spot in a suburban cemetery.

No one will criticize anything.

No one will even know.

John stared at the text provided in the prompt and hesitated—not because of the money or the time wasted, but because of a kind of self-examination.

Going through all this trouble, making those stupid decisions...

Why exactly?
Is it just to prove that he is a good person?

This was the final judgment Orochi left for John after he had taken John through Palmer, contacted the middlemen, and witnessed the mercenaries' plight in the food chain.

Night falls again.

Darkness is like a thin protective shell, gently covering everyone immersed in light pollution.

They can expose themselves without any burden, making every decision that is not suitable to be told to others.

Send the kestrel to the Safe Haven Company. (Optional)

[Give the falcon to Yura. (Optional)]

[Go to Fall Guys' Funeral Home. (Optional)]

[Continue to wait. (Optional)]

[Explore alternative approaches. (Optional)]

(End of this chapter)