Above the Blood Moon

The sound seemed to seep from the very bones.

Jockley suddenly opened his eyes, a chill running down his spine.

He looked down at the spine rifle on Big Yellow's back.

The rifle's joints gleamed with an eerie, cold light under the blood moon. The black metal connectors seemed to breathe, their light flickering like the pulse of some sleeping creature.

"Big Yellow, did you just say something?"

The mechanical leg paused for a moment, and Big Yellow's voice came from ahead.

"Talk? I'm focused on getting there, I don't have time to chat with you, unless you're referring to the things I said to you. Those were just reasonable complaints, you know, AI also has the right to choose its jobs, right? (#`Д´)ﾉ..."

Jockley didn't respond to Big Yellow's words; he stared at the gun, his brow twitching violently.

Having spent the past few days with Da Huang, he had figured out the AI's temperament. It was usually foul-mouthed and loved to complain, but when it came to crucial moments, Da Huang never joked. So, the whisper just now wasn't from Da Huang.

Then it can only be—

He reached out and touched the gun.

The moment my fingertips touched the bone, a cool, tingling sensation crept up my nerves, as if something was crawling into my brain through my blood vessels.

Jockley abruptly pulled his hand back, his palms covered in cold sweat.

"What's wrong?" Da Huang noticed his unusual behavior.

Jockley took a deep breath to suppress the discomfort.

"It's nothing, I'm probably just too tired and hallucinating."

But he knew it wasn't true. Anything was possible in this godforsaken place: superpowers, prosthetics, AI, and now a talking bone gun. Screw science.

"Faster," Jockley patted Big Yellow's shoulder frame. "Let's go back to the tavern."

"I think it would be better if you didn't sneak around making any noises under the covers at night. (●´ω｀●)ゞ"

"...I'm definitely going to uninstall your visual system tonight, I swear."

As the blood moon began to set in the west, they returned to the Forgotten City.

Perhaps Jockley was being a bit paranoid; he felt that the security checks at the city gates were stricter than usual, though they weren't much better than usual.

Two guards in worn-out company uniforms were scanning the neural interfaces of those entering the city one by one, while wanted posters scrolled on a holographic screen next to them.

Jockley pulled his hat down low and had Big Yellow hide the spine rifle in a scrap bag. He then slipped into the crowd of scavengers who had just returned from the wilderness, not wanting to pay the 0.05 entry fee.

The streets of the ruined town were as dirty and crowded as ever. The roadside vendors were still hawking their wares, and a few semi-mechanized prostitutes leaned against the wall, scanning passersby with empty eyes, waiting for the next customer to come so they could exchange for some food.

The tavern in Atlantis was lit with dim, yellow lights.

When Jockley pushed open the door, the bell hanging on it rang crisply.

He looked around and saw that the person standing behind the bar was not Ate but Daikiri.

The kid wasn't wearing his signature hip-hop hoodie today; he was wearing the same work shirt as Art, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his two modified mechanical arms.

He was reluctantly wiping a wine glass with a dirty rag.

Upon hearing the bell, Daikiri looked up. He had originally intended to say a listless "Welcome to the Gear Tavern," but upon seeing it was Chokri, he swallowed his words and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, you're back alive? Did you complete that mission?"

Jockley walked to the bar, took off his backpack, and placed it at his feet.

"Yes, Chandler has already moved." He paused, his gaze sweeping across the empty tavern. "Where's Chandler? And the priest...?"

"He's gone out." Daikiri stood on tiptoe, craned his neck, and peered out the door for a few seconds. Only after confirming that no one was there did he turn around and take out a bottle of cheap rum from the liquor cabinet.

"They said it was a routine mission, and they left before dawn."

He took out two glasses and poured a small glass for himself and for Jockley. The amber liquid shimmered under the light and emitted a pungent smell of alcohol.

"Att isn't here, so we won't charge you."

Daikiri pushed the cracked cup to Chokri, picked up the other cup and took a big gulp, immediately wincing from the spiciness.

"Damn it, what is this thing? That bastard Art definitely filled it with water..."

Jockley took the glass but didn't drink it; he stared at Daikiri's face for a while.

"What's wrong with your eyes?" Daikiri suddenly asked.

"What?"

"Bloodshot eyes." Daikiri gestured around his eyes with his finger. "Like a rabbit. Hey Chokri, haven't you been sleeping well for days again?"

Jockley subconsciously touched the corner of his eye. His skin was rough, and his eyes were puffy. He could indeed feel the capillaries throbbing.

Having frequently activated his superpowers for six consecutive days, Jockley's body and mind were under immense strain.

"It's alright," he mumbled, raising his glass to take a small sip.

The liquor burned his throat, and the taste of cheap alcohol made his head ache, but the heat slid down his esophagus and somewhat dispelled his fatigue.

"Come on," Daikiri scoffed, pouring himself another glass.

"The last time you said you were okay was right after you came back from the mine. Brother, take my advice: you can earn money again in this godforsaken place, but you only have one life. Take a break when you need to, and don't drive yourself crazy."

Jockley paused for a few seconds, then downed the rest of his drink in one gulp.

"Okay," he said. "Is the room key still in the usual place?"

"Hmm. Oh, right—"

Daikiri pulled a bunch of keys from under the bar and tossed them to him.

"At said he changed your room to the one at the very back on the second floor, with a private bathroom."

Jockley caught the key; the metal was cool in his palm.

"What about the rent?"

"Twelve Star Alliance Coins for half a month. Att has used this to offset part of your previous rent payment. You can give him the rest next time."

Daikiri waved his hand.

"Alright, hurry up and go upstairs to wash up and go to bed. The smell on you could knock out even a mutant rat."

Jockley and Big Yellow then went upstairs.

The new room was indeed better than the previous one; it was almost twice as big. There was a fairly intact metal bed frame in the corner, and against the wall was a simple wardrobe with a few old clothes that Chokley had bought from the black market.

What pleased Jockley the most was the ensuite bathroom.

Although it was just a small cubicle partitioned off in the corner, containing a rusty water pipe.

The water pipes connect to the water tank downstairs. If you want to use water, you have to insert Star Alliance coins into the coin slot on the wall. One Star Alliance coin per minute, no cheating.

Jockley stared at the coin slot for three seconds, gritted his teeth, and pulled three Covenant coins from his pocket.

"Damn, I'm going to splurge today."

The coin fell into the hole with a crisp metallic clang. A few seconds later, the water pipe vibrated violently, making a strange gurgling sound, and then a stream of murky liquid gushed out.

This is not drinking water. The water source for Forgotten City comes from an underground purification system. It is barely usable for washing, but drinking it will definitely cause diarrhea.

Jockley took off his clothes and stood under the water pipe. The cold water washed over his skin, making him shiver. Small red spots quickly appeared on his skin, which were itchy but would subside after a few minutes.

After taking a shower and changing into clean clothes, Jockley felt completely revitalized.

He activated his nervous system, connected to the Gear Tavern's takeout channel, scrolled to the bottom, and found the wontons.

This was the skill that Jokli taught At, and he also gave him the remaining raw materials and product links as a small way of repaying the life-saving grace he had received.

He ordered two bowls of wontons. Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Chokri opened the door, and Daikiri stood outside, holding two bowls in his hands, his face as black as the bottom of a pot.

"Your wontons." He shoved the bowl into Chokley's hands roughly, almost spilling the soup. "If I had known Art would still make me do this, I would have paid him extra."

Chokley looked down at the bowl. The two portions of wontons were different sizes and shapes. Some of them were even showing their filling, with the dough soaking in the murky soup, like the corpses of some unknown creature.

"Your skills..." Jockley couldn't help but laugh.

"Eat it or don't, take it or leave it." Daikiri raised his middle finger. "I'm a mercenary, not a cook. Next time, order your own takeout and don't fucking order me around."

After saying that, he turned and left, but stopped at the top of the stairs and turned back to add another sentence.

"By the way, I left the lubricant for the Pilot you mentioned last time at the door. It's from Yate, and they say it's military grade, so it should be better than the adulterated stuff on the black market."

The door closed, and Dekiri did not take Chokli's money.

Chokley carried two bowls of wontons back to the room. Dahuang had already consciously dragged the lubricant bottle to the corner and was clumsily twisting the cap with its mechanical fingers.

"Do you need any help?" Jockley asked.

"No need." Big Yellow didn't even look up. "Master, instead of watching me unscrew the bottle cap, you should eat your meal first."

Chokley sat down on the edge of the bed, picked up a spoon, and to be honest, the wontons tasted very average, but the hot food did relax his tense nerves a bit.

He ate while gazing out the window, deep in thought.

Although he gradually integrated into this world, he would never forget where he came from.

Earth, his eternal home. He needs clues: about the blue tissue fluid, about the space station, about the way home.

Thinking of this, Jockley suddenly opened his eyes. He had just fallen asleep from exhaustion. He glanced at the clock on the wall and realized that an hour had passed since he returned to the tavern.

It's time to get down to business. First, pay back the Star Alliance coins we owe Huang Shuangyan, and then take off this bomb collar around our necks.

Huang Shuangyan's shop is located in the western part of the town of Remains, near the waste disposal plant. That area is filled with metal waste transported from all over the place, and the air is always filled with the pungent smell of acid etching agents.

By the time Jockley and Big Yellow reached the shop entrance, it was completely dark.

The shop was closed, the iron gate was locked, and there were several thick iron bars welded in the gaps. The windows were also sealed with metal plates, leaving no gaps. The whole shop looked like it had been abandoned for a long time, which made Jockley's heart skip a beat.

He stepped forward and pounded on the iron gate. The metal emitted a dull, echoing sound that was particularly jarring in the quiet street.

"Miss Huang, Huang Shuangyan! Aunt Huang!!" He raised his voice, "Are you there? It's me, Qiao Keli!"

There was no response, only the wind blowing through the scrap heaps, bringing with it the sound of scrap metal scraping together.

Jockley knocked a few more times, pressing his ear against the door to listen carefully, but it was completely silent inside, not even a sound of breathing.

Not right.

Although Huang Shuangyan is a black market merchant, she has always been cautious in her business. She never closes her shop without a reason, much less seals the door shut like this. This doesn't seem like a temporary departure; it's more like she's running away.