My Cyber Psychosis is Task Prompt-Chapter 348 - 195: The Changing Streets

The thug held by John let out a short grunt of pain.

John could clearly feel the windpipe in his palm becoming soft, the sound of bones breaking as dense as scattered parts.

Squish—

Camper swung a punch horizontally.

The hostage in front of John instantly turned into "meat strips," most of the flesh splattered onto the ground nearby.

He lifted his leg, stepping on the opponent’s chest, pulling back to create distance, and emptied the pistol’s magazine in mid-air.

"Ah—"

Camper let out a roar, his face ferocious, the tattoos on his bald head writhing with the twisting muscles.

He tore apart his suit jacket, revealing a body like a wall.

"Running so fast, you son of a bitch, young people just don’t know how to assess the situation."

Camper reached out to wipe the blood oozing from the bullet holes.

There were large areas of tattoos on his body, the pistol bullets left clear and complete pits but didn’t penetrate the subdermal armor.

"When we were fighting in the barbed wire, you hadn’t even seen a woman’s boobs."

Squish—

Camper’s arm was steaming.

He inserted his fingers into the cooling vents on his arm, directly pulling out a knuckle duster with thick, short barbs, slipping it onto his fist.

John didn’t speak, his gaze fixed on that muscular body.

This guy truly deserves to be the Black Gold Gang leader, being the person in charge of an important place surely requires enough combat strength—special subdermal armor, auxiliary heart, muscle bundles, and alloy skeleton all serve the purpose of withstand blows and melee combat.

Competing in strength would be courting death.

Boom!

Camper swung his fist again, the wall burst out with rebar.

He didn’t continue to chase John, instead turning in a different direction, launching a lethal pounce towards the spot where Wenna was curled up!

A fleeting hum passed through the air.

The billboard at the highest point of the wall flickered a few times like a disconnected circuit.

John activated Sianweistan to rescue Wenna, his prosthetic eye flashing, clearly seeing the values of the cooling slots within his field of view.

Screech—

Camper casually bent the rebar, standing upright, feeling regret that he didn’t kill Wenna.

"I really don’t understand, brat, getting to this point, still engaging in such sappy childlike behaviors... You should interact with girls like a man, the chicks in the club are as obedient as cats, and you don’t even need to console them when they cry."

He suddenly flung a chunk of cement mid-sentence.

John knocked Wenna down, turned sideways and used Igdrasir’s elbow to block.

[Prosthetic Body Unlock: Authorized]

He smashed through the obstacle, swinging another arm, an iron-black Mantis Blade shot out from the prosthetic limb that wasn’t covered by synthetic leather.

The Glider series originally came with weapon slots.

When Ryan helped him install the prosthetic limb, he chose a version more compatible with the alloy skeleton and installed a Mantis Blade in the idle slot.

[Weapon Slot: Mantis Blade RA [Activated]]

[Manufacturer: Isaac Military Industry]

Products from a European military enterprise, belonging to the models available on the market, without overload current and venom slots, usually stored in the forearm, ready to be deployed when needed.

Camper’s fist came whistling.

John lifted the blade to take it head-on, almost shattering the joint, immediately changing the direction to unload the force, scraping out a spark.

Bang.

The enormous fist twisted around, forcibly pulled back to open up space.

Camper showed a mocking smile.

"That’s not much of a game, I thought..."

Before he could finish.

John had already vanished from the spot.

He had timed Sianweistan and cooling ahead, providing the enemy with false information, now activating Black Light, entering a state of time-stop once more, instantly filling the gap he just created.

The Mantis Blade suddenly sank, hooking along Camper’s thigh.

The tightened flesh burst open like a balloon.

The muscle bundles and blood slurry at the wound sprayed out from the artificial blood vessels under full pressure.

Whoosh—

John slid and skimmed past, not indulging, avoiding a heavy punch.

He flipped, maintaining balance, both stealth feet bowing simultaneously, kicking to pounce aggressively from behind, driving the sharp arm into the enemy’s ribs, then breaking to the side with the help of inertia!

Squish, ah—

The sound of screams and liquid splashing echoed.

The cement wall instantly became black and wet, the hot, foul smell of blood invaded the nostrils, it was hard to tell whether it was the prosthetic or internal organs dropping down.

Camper’s eyes were bloodshot.

He actually endured his severe injury, turned around, put his hand on John’s shoulder, and raised his giant fist to smash down.

Whew—

John’s reaction was even faster.

His other arm was Igdrasir, the alloy skeleton filled with power, punched upward, smashing half of Camper’s jaw inward.

A few lip piercings tore through the flesh, falling to the ground with the sound of metal clashing.

Thud.

The over three hundred-pound corpse collapsed into a pool of blood.

John flicked off the accumulated blood from the Mantis Blade.

This weapon embedded in the forearm felt different, so unlike the sensation of holding a weapon in the palm. The good news was that the weapon’s surface had a protective coating, preventing too much liquid from lingering around the blade and components.

Click.

He retracted the weapon, used his prosthetic eye to photograph the corpse, and packaged the photo to send to Raphael.

A person like Camper must have a bounty out for him.

The middleman would help John collect the ECPD reward.

Wenna was trembling all over, hadn’t come to her senses, her eyes still dazed even after getting into the passenger seat next to John.

Bam.

"Ah!"

She suddenly got a fright.

John maintained the gesture of closing the door, raised his hands with a smile, and only after Wenna had looked around and calmed down, he raised his hand to fasten the seat belt for her.

The Calormen Truck started up slowly.

"Let’s talk, why did the Black Gold Gang come after you?"

John broke the silence.

Wenna’s expression changed from panic to bewilderment, as if waking from a nightmare but needing the courage to face life.

Tipsy Bikini changed its owner.

Camper became the manager, signed contracts with every employee, and brought more workload and assessment requirements.

"Where did Angelica go?"

She asked.

"Sorry."

John didn’t answer.

Wenna gave a bitter smile as if she expected it, turned her head to look out the car window, using the rearview mirror to wipe off the bloodstains and straighten her tousled hair.

"Camper wanted the girls not only to wear sexy clothes as waitresses but also to sleep with paying customers, forcing us to implant Sex Doll prosthetic bodies and wear Super Sensing Chips during work, saying it was for easier management..."

Wenna turned around, using her bloodstained finger to swipe across her abdomen.

"To replace the entire genitalia, even need to cut out the uterus, F*ck, maybe men enjoy the thrill of upgrading from a shotgun to cannon, but I ... can’t really accept it. This thing is special to me, heh, maybe a bit old-fashioned."

"I understand, find another place to work."

John sincerely suggested.

Wenna was the star bartender of Tipsy Bikini.

Her bartending skills were beautiful to watch, and her chic short hair persona was loved by regulars.

"A good boss like Angelica is hard to find."

Bars with healthy earnings basically have similar forces like the Black Gold Gang managing them, and implementing them comes with unacceptable terms.

Other underground bars are either chaotic or suppressed to the point of being unable to make ends meet.

"Do you remember Comlan?"

Wenna was talking about another male bartender at Tipsy Bikini, who was also loved by patrons.

"A regular patron took him on as a kept man. He quit on the same day and left. A couple of days ago, someone ran into him at a small clinic, his balls crushed to a pulp, don’t know if he survived. Hmm, you know, in the circles of the wealthy, there’s no shortage of perverts."

Wenna’s tone bore no sense of luck nor sympathy, frowning while rummaging through her pockets.

John handed her a pack of traditional cigarettes.

"The lighter is in the coat in the passenger seat."

"Heh, it’s been a while since I tried one of these."

The scent of nicotine wafted through the car cabin.

A cold breeze suddenly swept in.

John turned his head to look and found Wenna leaning against the passenger side, facing toward the window.

Eden City’s night was neon and colorful.

"Don’t you have any acquaintance in the Black Gold Gang? Jilead, or anyone else, been mixing in the West District for so long, there must be a friend who can help..."

"Those are your friends, John."

Wenna didn’t turn around, her voice weakened by the wind.

"You’re a mercenary, and a skilled one at that; they have no reason to offend you, so you’ve never seen their true selves. Think about it, John, a gang that big with so many people, golden jewelry, guns, bullets... where does all that money come from?"

John fell silent.