[Mission Objective Updated]

[Proceed to the Underground Clinic. (Not Achieved)]

Yura didn't lie.

Indeed, Anesthetic and his Ghoul team found the severely injured Red Falcon in one of Palmer's underground clinics.

John parked the car at the intersection, adjusted the submachine gun hidden under his coat, and pushed open the rusty iron door alone.

To be honest.

This path is very concealed.

Street corner underground clinics are more or less connected to crime. In the Cyber Era, wanting to save lives or exchange cybernetic skill for money inevitably involves dealing with Ghouls.

John didn't rush in immediately. Instead, he instinctively reviewed the way he came, deliberately walked a distance back and forth, roughly mapping out the surrounding terrain, then slipped behind an advertising board.

The cement steps were flanked by faded graffiti.

The air was filled with a sour and pungent smell of disinfectant.

John pushed open the folding iron door only to find two Ghouls with folded arms, blocking his path.

Their hair was twisted into spikes, guns strapped at their waists.

"The clinic's booked, get lost. If you're not heavily injured, come back later. If it's urgent, I can take a look for you!"

"Looking for Anesthetic."

John kicked aside the prosthetic parts scattered at his feet.

"I'm here to pick up the booked goods."

The clinic was in disarray, clearly a fierce fight had occurred, and the air even mixed with the smell of burnt smart bullets.

A creaking sound came from the shadows.

As if something heavy was rising from a rusty chair.

Anesthetic's squat figure emerged in the dim light, and in the room, only his prosthetic eyes flickered, the iron ring on his lips glistening with oil.

"Got enough money? The balance, John."

His tone was lazy, perpetually in a half-asleep state.

John, however, sharply noticed his hands—all stained with blood, and it's quite fresh.

[Pay the Balance. (Optional)]

[Request Inspection. (Optional)]

"I want to inspect the goods; freshly deceased doesn't count the same, the price differs."

He presented a business-like stance.

The request was reasonable too.

"Fine, come inside. I've prepared it all for you."

The footsteps crowded at the door all moved deeper together.

The flickering lights above, amidst the Ghoul-surrounded underground clinic, certainly made for a poor trading environment.

The electrical supply seemed problematic.

"The Street Racing Gang drew lines from the public power box, don't mind it."

Anesthetic spoke like soothing a lamb.

John stayed silent, his gaze wandering between the surveillance camera in the corner and the open organ transport box, searching for something unknown.

"Goods are in the operating room."

Anesthetic led the way, occasionally brushing aside prosthetic limbs hanging from the ceiling, the metal structures jingling like wind chimes.

The medicinal smell grew stronger.

The air temperature dropped significantly.

John clearly saw—a Ghoul beside him, the cheap prosthetic limbs were instantly frosted when the iron door to the operating room was opened.

Smoke lingered.

The shadowless lamp made people's eyes itch in the corners.

In the blinding white light emerged a figure bound to the operating table.

John was immediately drawn to the person's red hair.

The metal surface before him, rather than an operating table, resembled a slaughtering table.

Red Falcon lay face down, tightly bound, with her coat cut from the back, a Sianweistan by Isaac Military Industry covering her spine.

"Genuine goods."

Anesthetic casually handed over a test report.

"Performance is good."

The bloodstains on his fingertips were fresh.

A crimson pool spread on the floor.

Anesthetic picked at the rubber apron on his chest, explaining.

"This girl is quite feisty. She was found when the doctor administered anesthetic, got kicked into breaking two ribs, dislocated an arm, luckily my people came in time, so she didn't escape."

"What's with the blood?"

"Afraid she'd run, I removed her knee joint components, anyway, you want the spine, the person is still alive, doesn't affect our deal."

Anesthetic took off his gloves.

He traced the red hawk's back with his thick knuckles.

Alloy rivets were embedded into the artificial leather.

The product logo was slightly worn.

This Sianweistan model is very classic, with only a few remaining, its iconic "double-row neural connectors" and multiple system slots visible to the naked eye.

"Mmm— hiss, pfuh!"

The unconscious mercenary was instantly awakened.

Her hands and feet were tightly bound by shackles and straps, her mouth gagged with a rough metal rod. Drool, mixed with blood, continuously dripped as she struggled to lift her head and wide-open eyes.

John confirmed once again; it indeed matched the character profile.

The red hawk had a transverse scar over its right eye, the area around it was a mess of sweat and tears, but the pupils burned with rage, reflecting John's face.

The metal rod in her mouth made a teeth-grinding sound.

Anesthetic nodded, tearing open the clothing on the red hawk's back, exposing the coccyx, with eyes showing no human emotion, only the evaluation and calculation of livestock meat.

"If there's no problem, I'll start dismantling. The spine will be prioritized for removal, and the organs and other prosthetic parts will be kept for resale."

He picked up a mask and covered his lip-ringed mouth.

"I suggest you leave. If you're not reassured, you can stay and watch."

Bzzz——

Disassembling the spine should have been a meticulous task.

But the laser saw Anesthetic pulled out buzzed loudly, clearly intending to make large cuts, with detailed work to follow...

Clatter.

"Mmm— mmm—"

The red hawk started to struggle violently, saliva spraying with her ragged breathing.

Then, a torrent of hot liquid fell on her back.

John drew the Mantis Blade, severing Anesthetic's wrist, while another knife popped from its sheath, instantly turning to stab a Ghoul readying a gun.

"Ah— damn you, John! You double-crosser—"

Anesthetic screamed, clutching his bleeding arm.

John activated the Sianweistan, flickering to his back, using the oil-smelling body as a shield against bullets.

The Ghouls drew their guns in return.

The room was instantly a hail of bullets.

[Mission Objective Updated]

[Eliminate the remaining Ghouls. (Not Achieved)]

[Take the red hawk alive. (Optional)]

The red hawk lay on the cold slaughter table, utterly unaware of what transpired, struggling to break free, her exposed muscles trembling uncontrollably with fear.

"Cough, cough... Damn, John, after today, you'll have a grudge with every Ghoul in the street..."

Thwack!

The Mantis Blade pierced through Anesthetic's spine, emerging through the throat—coolant flooded with crimson blood gushed out.

"I have no future."

John replied quietly.

Anesthetic's corpse slipped off the blade, falling onto the floor with a thud, cybernetic eyes wide, mirroring the flickering gunfire in the room.

A moment later.

The room returned to silence.

The air grew even thicker with the scent of blood.

"Mmm— hah— hah—"

The red hawk panted heavily.

She could feel the taut restraints being deftly opened one by one, though her rigid body could not immediately recover.

Clatter.

The metal gag fell to the floor.

The red hawk spat out saliva mixed with broken teeth and blood, her almost dislocated jaw moving several times before she could finally speak in a hoarse voice.

"Who are you!?"

"A working mercenary, like you."

John glanced at her, kicking away a gun with his foot.

He didn't let his guard down, slowly moving through every room, finally pulling out a data cable and using Black Light to destroy all data on the clinic's surveillance.

The red hawk was not idle either.

The prosthetics on her knees had been removed, leaving her to brace her broken leg with a splint and grit her teeth as she tried to stand.

"Ugh... damn!"

The red hawk collapsed back to the ground.

"Let's go."

John expressionlessly grabbed a spare bedsheet, wrapped it around her, and hoisted her onto his shoulder.

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