Clang, clang, clang...

The fine rain continued to drip down the gaps between skyscrapers.

Droplets pierced through steam and smoke, shattering on the glowing neon signs, then gathering again into beads, falling, stretching into thin lines, smashing onto pedestrians and pavement.

Ear-splitting music blared from the illegal shops.

"Ugh, this shit sounds terrible!"

A final puff of smoke slipped out of Bloodline's veins; a small red light flickered on his deformed cheek.

It wasn't that he hated the tunes, but rather that the "good stuff" from the Sugar Bean Man hadn't fulfilled the long-standing emptiness.

Now, as the pleasure faded, the restlessness in his heart turned to discontent.

Bam!

The crowbar was more excited than Bloodline.

He slammed the exhausted respirator against the trash can.

A pair of pressure-release powered arms coiled and twisted, clenching in the rain, while his semi-mechanical head displayed a menacing expression.

"Damn, not enough! I really want to crush that pixelated head and squeeze all those thrilling goodies out of his body!"

"Come on, if we could really do that, why would we beg him? See if there are any urgent jobs lately, gather some goods, and fix those damn bills!"

Even deep-thrill-seeking junkies couldn't resist the lethal allure of the Sugar Bean Man's drugs.

Tap, tap.

Puddles dripped on Bloodline's neck, prickling like needles.

He loosened his neck and heard the crowbar chuckle.

Bloodline knew.

His companion had another cunning idea.

Every time he smirked like that, it meant a greasy profit.

Sure enough, the crowbar said.

"We're gonna get rich. Remember the chick sitting on the iron bench earlier? I kept a close eye and did a full scan, damn, you know what? A 'Manga' Network Access Vault, 2070 limited edition—absolute gem you wouldn't encounter in a month in the East District!"

The crowbar's metallic structure bulged beneath the skin.

He stood in the dim alleyway, with just a hint of red light swaying like the beam of a high-as-kite motorcycle.

"You know what's even rarer? She's got a belly full of organic innards, so fresh, no shortcut esophagus at all, and I've already posted the info on the dark web! Hahaha!"

"Any buyers?"

"Of course! They're all scrambling for it, the middleman's drool is about to drip onto the circuitry!"

"Is the job doable? That chick had a mercenary beside her."

Bloodline tilted his head to indicate.

"Did you scan him?"

"No, but we're not targeting him anyway."

"So, how will we do it?"

"No rush."

The crowbar spat yellow phlegm on the ground.

He and Bloodline walked one behind the other towards the end of the alley.

"Don't all hackers love being alone? The info's up, get someone to watch, pick a time when the mercenary's not around, snatch her, drug her, throw her in a car, and she'd be dissected in half an hour..."

"Heh, right, and if we're patient, we could record a sensation clip too."

"Hahaha..."

Laughing, they left the shadowy alley.

The skyscrapers of Sakura Cross Street were awash in neon.

The vibrant colors illuminated their metallic cheeks, tattooed skins, red eyeballs, and swaying shotguns at their waists from the ground up.

Sizzle.

The crowbar led at the front, and due to the abrupt change in brightness, his cybernetic eye emitted a faint mechanical focusing sound.

At the same time, he practically collided with a wisp of yet-to-dissipate secondhand smoke.

The world seemed to freeze.

The air solidified.

The two red eyeballs on the crowbar's cheek twitched, straining to look sideways.

Sure enough, he saw:

There was a person leaning against the alley's end, smoking, gripping a submachine gun, aiming straight at the exit.

He had walked right into the gun's path.

The crowbar's scalp tightened.

His mouth opened wide, the soft metal on his cheek distorted under the pull of remaining muscle fibers.

Too late.

Rat-a-tat-tat—

[Weapon: Vakki-Rapid Runner]

The cobalt blue smart bullets hit crowbar's face.

His head exploded instantly—flames seared his skin while bullet heads splattered in the subdermal metal layer, scattering two red eyeballs still attached to flesh, teeth flying away!

Along with them flew half a cigarette butt.

It spun through the air.

Smoldering ash traced a continuous arc.

Bloodline walked behind crowbar, staring blankly as his comrade died before his eyes.

The ambush happened too quickly.

His high-strung body was exquisitely sensitive.

The drug makes the nerves "thump," the auxiliary heart powering the brain, causing the blood vessels' attention to be highly focused, seeing every detail clearly!

He reacted swiftly, activating the Sianweistan at the first sign of the attack.

The world slowed down.

Raindrops drift, neon transitioned between two colors, illuminating his gradually ferocious expression!

The smoking mercenary turned around.

It's him!

The one from the funeral home!

Why?

Blood Vessels are desperately retreating.

The Sianweistan is clearly activated, so why isn't the opponent slowing down?

The mercenary pushed away the corpse of the crowbar.

Wreckage fell slowly.

Brain matter and blood water had not fully dispersed.

Blood Vessels saw it all!

He saw it!

He didn't want to see it!

Damn it, the drug's kick is strong.

Fear spread throughout Blood Vessels' body.

The mercenary advanced expressionlessly.

He wore a work jacket, his artificial eyes leaving two drifting afterimages in the air.

The ghoul, nicknamed "Blood Vessels," twitched wildly at the corners of his mouth.

His cerebral cortex, boiling under the drug's stimulation, felt trapped in a quagmire, unable to move, only watch helplessly—just like those unlucky souls he dissected alive on the operating table.

The mercenary approached in the stagnant world.

A switchblade sprang from his arm, casually stabbing through his chest.

Blood Vessels could imagine:

Those implants he spent quite a bit of money on should be flying chaotically in the air, just like the crowbar.

He thought.

Thud, thud.

Two bodies fell at the end of the alley.

Along with them, half a cigarette butt landed.

Sizzle—

The embers extinguished by the puddle.

The world flowed back to normal.

The high-rises of Sakura Cross Street remained a splendid sight.

Neon lit up the alley, capturing only John's departing silhouette.

He walked through the wet alley, changing magazines amidst the noisy music and steam from the sewer pipes.

[Shop-Extreme Netherworld Destination]

John returned to the signboard, noticing remnants stuck in his fingers, bent down to rinse them off in a puddle, then pushed open the metal door while calling out Gino's name.

A scent wafted through the air.

John hadn't identified its source before freezing at the doorway.

The fluorescent tubes flickered.

Gino, eyes closed, leaned against a metal bench.

Beside her.

[Sugar Bean Man] sat in John's original spot, a hefty arm serving as a pillow under Gino's head.

His figure was bloated, even while sitting, resembling a giant plush doll propped behind the storefront.

The mosaic mask was a patch of darkness.

The yellow tube lights formed the word "ZZZ."

Swish—

The fluorescent tubes flickered abruptly.

In an instant, John crossed the room.

Plunge.

A switchblade stabbed into Sugar Bean Man's arm.

Gino lost her support, tipped forward, and was caught by John, yet remained unresponsive.

She wasn't asleep, but unconscious.

"Ah! DM! Fuck!"

Sugar Bean Man screamed.

The expression on his mosaic mask scrambled chaotically.

John held Gino with one arm, one foot pressing against his bloated body.

The Mantis Blade pierced through Sugar Bean Man's shoulder muscle, embedding into the wall, pinning him there.

"You... %& what are you doing!"

Sugar Bean Man's tone was furious.

"I should be asking you, what happened to her? Explain clearly... You've already made your money, don't be stupid, or I'll shove you into that damn furnace too!"

John's face was grim.

The switchblade in his hand slightly twisted.

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