novelhome Chapter 498 316: Gangland Situation
Chapter 498 316: Gangland Situation
[Man: Ohii~][Man: Not Black G. (Japanese)]
John's language plug‑in caught the conversation.
The other side didn't rush to shoot, probably because they'd scouted in advance and knew he was alone.
[Scan detected…]
They knew John had combat Prosthetic Body, so they decided to first shoulder their guns, then throw out some threats.
John could see it:
A bunch of Owl Town Gang punks.
Not East Asian Street Racing Gang, but seasoned street rats who'd joined the gang—guys on the level of doing shifts at the Sex Doll Club and public casinos.
"Eastern People got the balls to step into the West District?"
John asked.
The burly leader squinted, a lazy kind of viciousness in his eyes.
[Man: Mercenary? (Japanese)]
He had a language plug‑in too, could understand English.
[Scan detected…]
Scan data flashed in front of John again.
He tilted his head slightly, gaze cutting through the group, toward the modified truck with its high beams on.
So there was a hacker sitting in there.
[Man: Ohii, asshole, listen when people talk. Are you a Mercenary?]
"Yep."
John pulled his gaze back and gave a small nod.
[Man: Who do you work for? (Japanese)]
The brute popped a Mantis Blade from his forearm, his voice low. The high beams blasting from behind him left his face soaking in shadow—only the cyber eyes and blade edge were lit, giving off heavy pressure.
"Actually, I'm not working."
John put two fingers together, pointing at the ruin under his feet. "Someone explain why you're in my restaurant?"
[Man: Yours? (Japanese)]
This time it was one of the gunmen standing a bit farther back who spoke.
[Man: Eh, whatever. (Japanese)]
He didn't wait for John to answer.
The lead thug ran out of patience.
[Man: Asshole, listen up, this turf belongs to the Owl Town Gang. That supercar in the parking lot, you drive it here? Leave it. You… can fuck off. (Japanese)]
He raised the Mantis Blade to aim at John—and couldn't find him.
The Mercenary was no longer where he'd been.
The truck's high beams washed over the ruins of the restaurant. Six, seven punks stared wide‑eyed, seeing nothing but rain lit up and shadows stretching and overlapping.
"Ah—"
"You bastard!"
"When did he…"
Somebody yelped.
The brute swung his Mantis Blade on instinct, then realized his arm felt insanely heavy.
He looked down—and saw the Mercenary in front of him, one hand clamped on the Mantis Blade's mount, elbow turning, slamming up into his own jaw.
Bang.
A few bloody teeth spun into the air.
Shff—
The brute arched back on the spot and crashed into the rubble, exposing John's silhouette.
A submachine gun had appeared in his hand.
[Weapon: Raft Qi‑Rapid Runner]
A smart weapon from Raqi Industry, purpose‑built for vehicle firefights. Its upside: high rate of fire and wide coverage—perfect for this distance.
[Intrusion detected, Prosthetic Body overheating: 11%]
[Cyber Eyes rebooting: 2%]
A string of garbled code flashed across John's vision.
His Sianweistan got interfered with; in bullet‑time, his cyber‑pupil split into several afterimages.
John kicked in Black Light.
Everything snapped back to normal.
He didn't even blink. It was like that remote intrusion had been a hallucination. He brought the gun up in one clean motion and fired.
Ratatat—
Cobalt‑blue muzzle flash burst in the rain.
The gun‑toting punks jerked and spasmed, dropping one after another across the restaurant rubble.
"Ah! Y‑you, you…"
John had deliberately left one alive.
The guy stared, eyes bulging, face streaked with rain. After watching his buddies die in an instant, he couldn't even stand; the moment he tried to back up, he tripped.
His gun flew from his hand.
John bent down and picked up the Rongju Rifle.
"Hold up."
He gave a small flick of the muzzle, signaling the guy to shut up, and at the same time raised his arm into a standing firing stance.
Whine, fwsh—
The modified truck the Eastern People had come in roared to life, tires screeching on the slick ground.
The hacker inside had lost his mind with fear.
He'd been locking onto the Mercenary, and he'd thrown his Magic Puppet out at the very first beat of the fight.
But the remote intrusion got cut off in an instant.
The hacker understood immediately.
Can't afford this fight!
He didn't even have time to warn his crew before arcs of electricity jumping from the Network Access Vault burned him.
His whole body locked up for just a few seconds. When he looked up again, his teammates were all dead.
Run!
Panting, the hacker scrambled into the driver's seat.
The truck had just swung around, side facing the restaurant, when a burst of Bullets punched through the window—and his skull along with it.
The corpse slammed into the steering wheel with a bang.
Blood sprayed all over the passenger seat and the front windshield.
John lowered the rifle.
"Alright, just you and me now. Tell me, when did the gang war hit here?"
John's tone was casual.
He didn't even look at the survivor on the ground, just fiddled with the mod parts on the gun in his hand.
Rongju was the gun brand with the highest mod ceiling.
It was a street favorite.
John had played with it before, even scored a bunch of stock parts from a cabinet somewhere. What it reminded him of was that Rongju executive he personally hung four months ago.
The rain was still falling.
There were several puddles inside the restaurant.
Now they were even murkier.
"Hoo, I—yeah…"
The survivor forced down his fear, clenched his teeth and shut his mouth, took several deep breaths in a row just to get his tongue straight.
The Black Gold Gang and the Owl Town Gang had gone blood‑red crazy.
A full four months!
Ever since that city‑wide sensation when the Starlink fell, the two gangs had turned the streets between the East and West District into a battlefield, grinding each other down with no bottom line.
They pulled raids, burned warehouses, bombed convoys, and threw Molotovs into each other's restaurants and entertainment joints.
They even hired Mercenaries to assassinate gang bosses.
The cops didn't care.
The SAT didn't care.
City hall played deaf and dumb, and the council was quiet in a way that was terrifying.
Rumor was both sides were stuffing money upward.
But outside of pirate radio, not a single TV outlet raised a question.
Then things went completely off the rails.
They started killing councilmen, killing corporate executives!
Street shootouts shifted from nighttime to daytime, even high noon. Bullets didn't grow eyes; plenty of unlucky civilians died, while weapons manufacturers and medical outfits saw their business skyrocket.
John nodded, then asked again.
"What's with this place?"
"What?"
The survivor was a bit dumbstruck.
His eyelids fluttered hard like wipers just to shed the rain so he could barely make out the Mercenary in front of him.
John lifted his boot and stomped on the rubble.
"Here. This restaurant. It used to be one, at least. And I'm the owner of this restaurant. You need to tell me what happened to it during all this."
"It… it got destroyed…"
"Come on, details."
"Uh…"
The thug organized his words.
Chavez Restaurant sat on the edge of the West District.
The turf war naturally spread here.
Four months ago, one day, the two gangs had their first large‑scale shootout on this street.
The restaurant was right by the intersection.
Neither side targeted it.
No one specifically protected it either.
So it got wrecked.
"What about the restaurant owner?"
"You… aren't you the owner?"
"Fack, I mean…" John curled his lip. "Gerry, Maya, the few people who were in the restaurant at the time, that couple, and the migrant temp worker."
"No idea."
The thug shook his head in a daze.
Rainwater flew everywhere.
"You really don't know, or you just don't wanna say?"
"NO, no, don't shoot, I swear, I really don't know!" He was shaking with fear, and had no reason to lie. "After that time, no one came here anymore. Later there were several more fights, plus raids and explosions. By the time I started coming, it was already a ruin."
"…Alright then."
John felt a little let down. He yanked the guy up from the ground, flicked the safety off that Rongju Rifle, shoved it into the guy's armpit, and patted his shoulder, signaling him to clamp it tight.
"I won't kill you, but you gotta go back and tell your boss."
John hooked an arm over his shoulder, put some weight into it, and walked him toward the modded van. "Tell him the restaurant owner's back. Stop sending people to this street; best stay away from it. Otherwise, I'll pay him a personal visit."
The thug's legs were still jelly, his face blank.
Not until the door opened and the dead hacker's staring eyes met his did it hit.
He shuddered all over, gritted his teeth in a burst of vicious courage, shoved the corpse aside, and dropped into the driver's seat.
He didn't dare hit the gas yet, instead gave John a complicated look, like he was reassessing this Mercenary.
"Any other questions?"
John asked.
The thug's lips trembled. "I couldn't scan it… what's your name?"
John froze for a second.
He stood there in the rain, thinking it over seriously, and still couldn't find a proper answer.
Four months ago, this question didn't need answering.
Now John didn't know how to answer it.
Four months.
Long enough for a legend to die twice over.
No one had time to remember a single name.
Those audiences who once cheered for him in the Central Arena, the underbelly of the Mercenary circle, might be dead, might've climbed up, or moved to another city.
They thought John was dead.
Of course they wouldn't make the connection.
"John."
The Mercenary introduced himself.