Is Chris the fish to be caught?

A thought popped into John's mind, but he instantly dismissed it—Oulos, sprawled across his back, had given no hint.

He hugged Oulos and sat down.

The sofa's leather was torn, the cotton was blackened, and the tabletop was riddled with bullet holes and strange knife scars.

This place wasn't high-class.

It was messy and cheap.

The customers were all Ghouls, Rift Party members, stowaways, mercenaries teams, and cyberspace hackers, if you looked closely, there were also other intermediaries and corporate dogs.

Whoosh—

Oulos was sipping fizzy water.

She knelt on the sofa, leaning against John's shoulder, with a hint of curiosity in her eyes.

Oulos adapted to this environment even more than John, thoroughly enjoying her current role.

"I have to buy you a drink~"

Old Chris waved his hand to get some alcohol.

He completely ignored Oulos, only focused on befriending John.

"Last time you caused quite a scene in Palmer, three Rift Party members died by the roadside downtown, it was on the news, oh, I don't intend to be remorseful, quite the opposite, they left some inheritance in the room, which made me a small fortune."

"Are you the boss here?"

"Oh no, not that impressive."

Old Chris's beard was extravagant in color, looking like a mutated Santa Claus.

"Palmer is never short of intermediaries and mercenaries, you know, there are plenty of opportunities to make money, but countless troubles too, if you're interested, we can talk slowly, there are indeed several good jobs suitable for you, the reward will definitely satisfy you."

"Maybe next time."

John shook his head.

Old Chris wasn't disappointed either, grabbing the food on the table and devoured it, warmly sharing it as well.

Some things were placed in the booth's center:

Deep-fried synthetic meat, bagged fluid food, weird flavored gel, banned substances.

"How does it work here? I've never been."

John decided to return to the topic.

"Hohoho, buying a ticket without any clue? Don't worry, this is definitely the right place, Eden City offers more than just Sex Doll Clubs and bars..."

He opened his mouth wide, his beard squirming incessantly.

"Ever played blind shooting?"

Old Chris controlled hundreds of warehouses in Palmer.

They were small, clustered by riverside warehouses, with low security levels and little confidentiality, mainly rented by fringe walkers and low-level wanted criminals.

Cleared daily, fair-priced.

Street risk is high.

If renters are unlucky, they might hang the next day.

Old Chris would take these "daily rent" expired warehouses for gambling auctions, buy and leave, profit or loss all based on luck, it's a fitting pastime for mercenaries with spare cash.

"Phew~"

The cigar smell of the golden apple was heavy.

Old Chris blew smoke onto a girl beside him, the hazy smoke instantly covered her curves.

"Rules are simple, just pay up."

He leaned back on the sofa.

"It's about time, excuse me, I need to attend to other guests."

Old Chris put on a piece of laser sunglasses.

Buzz—

The bar noise suddenly stopped.

Regulars turned their heads, looking at the center, the bar pieced together from scrap cars roared loudly.

Smoke rose.

Lights flickered.

A giant holographic image emerged.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen, ladies, and those scrap seekers smelling riches! I am your Old Chris!"

His fat body filled the center of the venue.

"The treasure hunt starts now. As of this morning, seventeen unlucky devils' rent expired, truly a pity, let's wish those guys luck~"

Laughter came through the hazy light.

"Oh, don't laugh, you rabble, maybe one of them is lying on your dissecting table, these damned treasures have your contribution!"

The laughter in the venue grew louder.

Oulos nudged John.

She handed over a virtual headband, putting one on herself.

The rendering speed was fast, it must be real-time connected, after a few signal calibration flashes, a clear picture emerged.

Oulos bought a ticket for the "high-end venue."

Chris specifically arranged a group, standing by those ownerless warehouses, ready to provide all-around investigation upon customer request.

Of course, only at the entrance.

If customers bid, another payment can be made for a door opening to inventory the goods inside, in case of any leftover traps.

If encountering hot items, they can even seamlessly resell to Old Chris.

The service was very attentive.

As soon as John finished reading the instruction file, a line of warehouse numbers jumped into view.

"#157", "#211", "#006", "#215"...

Under each number was an option to add money.

With another payment, it's possible to purchase tenant information.

Of course, authenticity is hard to tell.

Many fringe walkers use fake names for procedures, so the intelligence price isn't high.

John switched through a few screens.

All warehouses had a starting bid of 5,000 Euros.

Each switch led to a brand-new channel.

Inside, someone instructed onsite personnel to change angles, taking shots of details they'd like to see, even asking for smells, door panel temperatures...

"Haha, kind of the real deal."

John sarcastically commented, continuing to peruse.

He suddenly saw a different price.

[Number: #211]

[Current Bid: 20K Euro]

Someone was clearly struggling.

John swiped his finger, spending money to purchase tenant intelligence.

[File Information: Takeshi Yokota, Eastern People, overdue rent duration 78H, warehouse entry-exit records..., cameras destroyed, suspected employee of Raftaki Group Company...]

[CRISS: John! Not bad eyeing this one!]

A rough voice came through the voice channel.

Old Chris sat opposite John, yet joined the [#211] room, shouting loudly in the channel, without avoiding others at all.

[CRISS: Seen this Eastern person before, dressed well, with a whiff of corporate dog, worth betting on! Someone opened a warehouse full of unopened prosthetic bodies last week, moved out of Palmer the next day, you know how it is, those black market goods that can't see the light come like this!]

[Current Bid: 25K Euro]

Old Chris didn't hide anything, stoking the fire onsite, a newcomer indeed slipped into the [#211] channel, starting to raise the price.

John felt Oulos nudging his spine.

He understood the hint,

[B30-1: 30K Euro]

John left some money in the restaurant's account, entrusted to the Maya couple for daily operations.

His remaining cash could only go this far.

Unexpectedly, the bidding price was immediately refreshed.

[B44: 40K Euro]

"Fuck, fool right?! Spend forty grand on a second-hand warehouse!"

John blurted out.

He realized the headband number corresponded with the booth, so took off the device, based on the memory of coming here looked in a direction.

Messiah's Eye had excellent night vision.

After a few adjustments of his pupils, he saw a suited muscular man.

The muscle lines were rather aesthetic, the scan showed, no excess combat prosthetics were installed.

Corporate dog.

John determined the opposite's occupation.

Was this the target Oulos was fishing for?

John was still thinking when suddenly he felt a warmth on his earlobe.

"Bid casually, be brave, I'm treating."

Oulos kissed him, whispering lightly.

John hadn't reacted yet.

[Scan detected, no hack traces.]

A cheer rose throughout the venue, several gazes locked on John successively, someone even rudely activated a scan.

Opposite, Old Chris was laughing heartily.

John's sight crossed over that colorful beard, seeing the central hologram in the venue had somehow changed.

It became a screen.

A series of warehouse numbers and bidding prices were on it.

[Number: #211]

[Current Bid: 100K Euro]

John also saw the bidder information.

[B30-2]

"Bubbles..."

Oulos sipped fizzy water.

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