Above the Blood Moon

The railcar started moving and slowly drove away from the platform.

Jockley paid 0.05 Covenant Credits per person, totaling 0.15 for the three of them, which wasn't expensive. He found a seat by the window, with Daikiri sitting opposite him. Since there wasn't a suitable spot for Big Yellow, he had to stand between the two of them.

Daikiri pulled a small music player out of his pocket, put on the headphones—old-fashioned wired headphones with worn-out wires that exposed the copper wires inside.

He started listening to music, tapping his feet to the rhythm, and tapping his fingers on his thighs.

But Jockley could tell that he wasn't listening at all; he was just using the music to mask his inner anxiety.

"So annoying," Daikiri muttered as she suddenly took off one of her earphones.

"Atlantis hasn't assigned me a single mission this week, and I only have 2 Star Alliance Coins left in my account. Yesterday, I wanted to go to Pink Paradise in Mirror Lake District to have some fun, but when I asked about the prices, the cheapest one started at 3 Star Alliance Coins."

He scratched his head, looking annoyed.

"How about I just sell one of my kidneys? I still have one, that's enough for me."

Jockley looked him up and down, then turned to Big Yellow and said.

"I think his kidneys have been failing for a long time, what do you think, Da Huang?"

A "[nodding.gif]" animation popped up on Dahuang's panel.

"If he can still function normally at that frequency, I think he's not human. ∑(￣□￣;)"

Daikiri's eyes widened.

"Are you kidding me! These kidneys of mine cost 30 Star Alliance Coins each—Neptune-III advanced prosthetics, complete with automatic filtration and toxin decomposition!"

"More functions don't necessarily mean better usability." Jock said expressionlessly. "Besides, if you really wanted to sell them, you probably wouldn't get a good price. With so many people unemployed now, there must be a lot more people selling prosthetics. The market is saturated, and prices will definitely plummet."

Daikiri opened his mouth but couldn't say anything. Finally, he slumped back into his seat and put his headphones back on.

"Damn it."

The train continued its journey, passing through the ruins of the wrecked town, through streets crowded with the unemployed, and through the occasional gunshots and cries.

As Jockley looked out the window, he suddenly felt that the people in the city were like a sinking ship, struggling desperately, but the ship was still sinking little by little. Just then, the carriage door opened and several men wearing black hoods walked in.

Their clothes were ordinary, but their pockets were bulging, clearly stuffed with something.

Jockley immediately closed his eyes, activated his superpower, felt a burning sensation between his brows, and expanded his vision, sensing the heat sources of those men.

It lacked the characteristic energy flow of a superhuman and the high-temperature reaction of a high-powered prosthetic body. Its weaknesses were obvious, mostly in the head, abdomen, and joint connections. But to be on the safe side, Jockley still reached behind him and gently gripped the handle of the Orion rifle.

When he opened his eyes, those men had already begun to move.

They collected money one by one, starting from one end of the carriage, in an orderly fashion.

"Two Star Alliance Coins per person, transfer to this ID account. If you pay, everything will be fine; if not..."

He didn't finish speaking, but he lifted a corner of his clothes at his waist, revealing the gun handle. The people in the carriage were quiet. No one resisted, no one screamed. Everyone just silently opened their nervous system transfer accounts, then lowered their heads to continue looking out the window, or looking at their own hands, as if they were paying a tax they had long expected.

Watching this scene, Jockley felt a sense of absurdity; these robbers were actually quite law-abiding.

Just as they arrived at Daikiri, the train pulled into the station, and an announcement came over the loudspeaker: "Fifth District Station, this is the station. Passengers, please disembark..."

The leader glanced at the platform, then turned to his accomplices and said...

"That's it for today. This station is the territory of the Poison Wolf Gang. It's not good to cross the line."

Several accomplices nodded and started walking towards the car door, but the man standing in front of Dai Jili seemed unwilling. He stared at Dai Jili for a few seconds and suddenly cursed.

"You son of a bitch, you're so lucky."

Daikiri stopped moving, slowly raised his head, and took off his headphones.

"Say it again?"

The man probably thought Daikiri was easy to bully, or maybe he got a little cocky after collecting the money so easily. He chuckled and repeated.

"I said, you son of a bitch, you're lucky—"

Before he could finish speaking, Dekiri's right arm suddenly deformed, the mechanical structure rapidly reorganized, the outer shell flipped over, and the internal gun barrel extended. The whole process took less than a second, and a complete human prosthetic arm was transformed into a multi-barreled rotary machine gun.

The gun was pressed against the man's forehead. The man's eyes widened, and he had no time to react.

"Da da da da da!!!"

Gunshots rang out in the enclosed carriage, deafeningly loud.

Blood and brain matter splattered all over the floor as the man's body fell backward, crashing heavily onto the floor.

His accomplices were stunned, but Jockley and Big Yellow were not. The moment the gunshot rang out, Jockley had already skillfully raised his rifle, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Three shots rang out, and three men fell to the ground, each shot hitting their head.

Big Yellow moved even faster, it directly extended the energy blade from its right arm, and with a dash, the blade flashed, and the necks of the last two men were neatly severed.

The entire process took less than five seconds; all five robbers were dead.

The carriage was deathly silent. The passengers kept their heads down, no one dared to look or move. The only sounds were the clanging of the train and the muffled thuds of corpses falling to the floor.

Daikiri put away the machine gun, his arm returned to normal, he wiped the blood splattered on his face, then grinned, reverting to his usual nonchalant demeanor.

"Done."

Jockley lowered his rifle, took a deep breath, and just then, a sound came from the speaker on the roof of the carriage.

"Attention passengers, a violent incident has been detected in the carriage. According to Article 37 of the Forgotten City Public Transport Management Regulations, the person involved is required to pay a vehicle damage fee of 10 Star Alliance Credits. Please complete the payment within three minutes, or law enforcement will be notified."

Two small drones flew over from the front of the vehicle and hovered in front of the three people, with cameras on the bottom of the drones flashing red and pointed at them.

Jockley looked at Dekiri.

Daikiri looked at Chokri with an innocent expression: "I have no money."

Jockley: "..."

That should be my line, right?

He sighed, activated his nervous system, found the payment code sent by the drone, and transferred 10 Star Alliance Coins.

"Beep. Payment successful. Thank you for your cooperation. Have a pleasant journey."

The drone flew away.

An hour later, the railcar finally arrived at the third section.

The three got out of the car and walked into the largest open-air market in the ruins town, which was actually a collection of hundreds of makeshift stalls made of scrap metal sheets and tarpaulins, squeezed between several half-collapsed buildings.

But there are a lot of people here today.

Perhaps because there are more unemployed people, there are also more people setting up stalls to make a living. As Jokley walked along, he saw many new faces. They were all squatting on the ground, selling all sorts of random things in front of them. Jokley skillfully navigated through the crowded people and arrived at a few fixed stalls.

"Grandma Varda." He walked up to a stall selling fried insects and greeted the old lady behind it.

The old woman looked up. Both of her eyes were fitted with prosthetics, the lenses of which were pale yellow with fine cracks. But when she saw Choklee, she still smiled, her wrinkles crinkling together.

"Little Jockley's here! How much do you want today?" Her voice was hoarse.

"Same as always, 1 mole," Jockley said.

One mole is the unit of measurement here, roughly equivalent to 500 grams on Earth. Fried insects are the most common source of protein in the lower levels of the Forgotten City. They are cheap and tasteless, but they can provide the necessary protein.

Grandma Varda nodded and began scooping the insects out of the oil, which was already black and emitting acrid smoke. But she worked skillfully and quickly filled a bag, wrapped it in old newspaper, and handed it to Jockley.

Then she bent down and pulled a small box out from under the stall.

"Here, take this."

She pushed the box in front of Jockley, her eyes curving into crescents.

"Grandma found this a few days ago, isn't it pretty?"

Jockley opened the box; inside was a butterfly specimen. Its wings were a deep blue with a gold trim, shimmering faintly in the dim light. The specimen wasn't particularly well-preserved; the butterfly was pinned to a piece of cardboard, and its wings were slightly crooked.

It is beautiful.

A beauty that stands out starkly against this dirty and dilapidated world.

Jockley paused for a few seconds, then laughed.

"Thank you, Grandma," he said, carefully putting the specimen into his pocket. "It's beautiful."

Grandma Varda laughed even harder and grabbed another handful of bugs into the bag.

"Eat more, you're too thin."

Jockley paid and turned to call Daikiri, but he saw Daikiri standing motionless in front of another stall not far away. It was a stall selling used books, with a tattered cloth spread out in front of the stall owner, piled high with all kinds of paper books.

In this era where almost everyone uses their nervous system, paper books have long become antiques and are extremely rare.

Daikiri squatted in front of the stall, holding a children's picture book in her hand.

Daikiri stared at the book for a long time. The old stall owner told him the price, and he was stunned for a moment. Then he subconsciously started to open the nervous system. After seeing the account balance, he had no choice but to reach into his pocket.

But after searching for a long time, he only managed to pull out a few loose coins, probably less than 1 Star Alliance coin in total. Daikiri gritted his teeth and prepared to take off a chain around his neck. It was a very old metal chain with a small bullet casing hanging from it, which must have been something quite important to him.

Jockley went over and took his hand.

Then he turned to the stall owner and asked, "How much?"

The old man held up three fingers. "Three Star Alliance Coins. This is an antique from who-knows-how-long time ago. I'm not lying to anyone, young or old."

Jokeri didn't haggle and transferred 3 Star Alliance Coins directly.

Daikiri looked up at him.

"...I will pay you back," Daikiri said, his voice a little hoarse.

"No need." Jockley took the book and stuffed it into his arms. "It's yours. If you like stories, I can tell you some."

Daikiri held the book without saying a word. He lowered his head again, his fingers stroking the rough cover. After looking at it for a while, he carefully put the book into the inside pocket of his coat and placed it against his chest.

After finishing their shopping, the three of them carried their bags back home.

When he reached a street corner, Jockley stopped. There were several children squatting there, the oldest probably ten years old and the youngest only five or six. Their clothes were tattered and their faces were dirty, but their eyes were big and they were staring intently at the food in the hands of passersby.

Jockley crouched down and opened the bag containing the fried insects.

"Want some?" he asked.

The children paused for a moment, then nodded frantically.

Chokri handed over the bag, and the children swarmed around it, grabbing insects with their little hands and stuffing them into their mouths, chewing them with a crunching sound. They even picked up and ate the ones that fell on the ground. Daikiri stood by and watched without saying a word.

After the children finished eating, Jockley stood up. The youngest girl tugged at his trouser leg, looked up at him, and whispered something.

"Thank you, brother."

Jockley patted her head without saying anything.

The three continued walking forward.

After walking for a while, Daikiri suddenly spoke up: "Chokri."

"Um?"

"You said you were going to tell me a story? Really?"

Jockley laughed.

"Really, I have many stories, about a place called Earth, about the ocean, about forests, about snowy winters, and about a hero who saved the world."

Daikiri's eyes lit up.

"I want to hear it, I really want to hear it."

Jockley patted him on the shoulder, then patted Big Yellow's cold shell.

"Okay, I'll tell you when we get back."

He paused, looking ahead. The streets of the ruined town meandered like an endless gray vein, and the blood moon had begun to set in the west, staining the horizon a dark red.

"But now, we should go home."