novelhome Chapter 500 318: Crashing into the East District
Chapter 500 318: Crashing into the East District
Silver Rider 577 left the boundary of the West District and plunged into the commercial center of the East District, where the rain turned cold and rational.It's rare to see heavy rain in the East District.
High-rise buildings first filter most of the rainwater, and what's left slides down glass curtain walls and train tracks.
Unlike the war-torn gang borders, this remains a bustling commercial area, with tidy streets free from gang skirmish debris, and major companies' brand stores operating normally.
Subway tracks vibrate, hovercar vector engines hum, intercity tracks clatter, business vehicles suppress engine roars... all circulate continuously, each emitting its own rumbling sound.
Neon veils once again enveloped Silver Rider 577.
John scanned through the car window.
Outside, holographic billboards cast bewildering reflections on the wet streets—Plato, Eisenberg, Louis Dogg, and the emergency team logos were as vibrant as oil paint in the rain-washed city.
[Mission objective updated]
[Contact Raphael. (Optional)]
[Find the whereabouts of Gerry, Maya, and others. (Optional)]
Even without mercenary interludes, John was going to visit Raphael.
Fortunately, he knew where to find him.
[Shop - Kaufuglanton Auto Sales Center]
As the largest ground vehicle sales complex in the East District, its business boomed amidst escalating gang wars.
Its building complex rivaled international airports, with floor-to-ceiling windows spanning across.
Spotlights revealed details, several new vehicle models were displayed on the first floor of the lobby, and there was still a fair number of customers.
The visit was initially meant to be more courteous.
But now, someone had fired at him, so John could change his approach.
Silver Rider 577 charged into the internal roads, did not turn on the circular ramp, but headed straight for the showroom.
The unique roar of the supercar attracted many gazes.
Customers, security guards, receptionists all turned to look, and then someone reacted quickly, shouting first, causing the crowd to scatter with a roar.
Bang—
Silver Rider 577 shattered the floor-to-ceiling window, crushing glass as it turned inside the showroom, the tire friction mixed with crowd screams, security guards on the second floor tried to stop with gunfire but couldn't penetrate the vehicle's armor.
The lobby bar was partially collapsed.
Silver Rider's half hood was embedded in the workspace.
[Scan detected, prosthetic eye rebooting...]
[Prosthetic body overheating: 3%]
John hadn't left the driver's seat when he was instantly locked by signals from over a dozen different-scale, different-source hackers.
The East District gathered the city's finest mercenaries.
Such a reaction speed was not surprising.
Black Light swept through, those varying progress hacking programs ended instantly, several flashes sparked around the showroom, resembling equipment failure, or a network system crash, probably with hackers clutching their heads in convulsions.
John slid out of the car door, leaping into the collapsed bar.
He could feel at least three directions, six guns were aiming at him, and the number of reinforcements was increasing.
This group was mercenaries, not the same as punks or corporate security.
Their equipment ranged widely, their tactical coordination lacked discipline, but their fighting styles varied.
"They're all old hands."
John sighed, activated Sianweistan, and dashed through the hail of bullets, tackling a marksman behind cover.
He raised his knee to knock out the opponent, not killing him, then picked up the rifle and started switching shooting modes.
[Weapon: Kanmer - Meditation [Smart Rifle]]
[Module: Non-lethal mode, Ballistic Calibration, Rapid Fire]
The attack targets were chosen by John.
Raphael must do business; violence weapons wouldn't be used in the showroom, and even if there were, they would be equipped on subsequent reinforcements.
John didn't come to slaughter for venting either.
He switched to non-lethal mode, undid the opponent's tactical belt, and placed the remaining magazines within reach.
Enemies pressed over.
Not a single customer was left in the showroom.
Mercenaries poured in continuously from the second floor of the showroom, maintenance channels, and beyond the shattered floor-to-ceiling windows.
[PreCogOS protocol activated]
[Synchronizing prosthetic eye, calibrating parameters...]
Black Light surged through, activating auxiliary programs.
Data streams appeared in John's prosthetic eye, a warm burning sensation stimulated his spine, and immediately after, the scan filter spread through the showroom, dividing the battlefield into dozens of zones.
Every enemy-occupied zone was marked.
Black Light integrated a program, considering all usable prosthetics.
Behavior prediction, not only high-power running the prosthetic eye but also coordinating with Sianweistan, to highlight the corresponding block before the enemy emerged from cover, followed by simulating action projection with mosaic...
Such operation bore a heavy load, but yielded significant results.
John, standing in the hail of bullets against a mob of desperadoes, exhibited terrifying ammunition efficiency, constantly eliciting screams from enemies, groaning with injured bodies behind cover.
Second-floor railings, bar behind, vehicle windows...
John's targets during shooting were the highest immediate threat enemies, like untangling intertwined parts, slowly ripping open the encirclement from within.
Magazine emptied, into cover promptly, quick switch.
John remained as cool as a machine, while the wails inside the showroom had already surpassed the gunfire.
They all realized this guy was not to be trifled with and saw that John did not want to go for the kill.
But before someone stood up to say 'enough is enough,' John had already replaced the magazine, continuing to exchange fire with mercenaries.
Bullets whizzed around the showroom.
Those brand-new high-end vehicles, beautiful yet fragile glass artworks, and the decorative lights hanging from the ceiling were all battered and incomplete under gunfire baptism.
"Ah—"
"Fack!"
Two more marksmen fell in the second-floor corridor.
Mercenaries constantly felt a step slow, yet always failed to find a breakthrough.
Moreover, the situation was worsening.
John had cleared most of the first wave reinforcements, leaving few remaining enemies, allowing him to loosen up, even take his time tormenting every enemy who poked their head out.
Opposite the staircase, someone stood up.
John shot him in the shoulder, the second shot was to the knee, followed by the palm, and then he fell from the second floor, directly hitting the top of a newly launched car.
Now, the showroom was filled with wounded.
Some activated their Sianweistan and approached John's position under the cover of companions' gunfire, then the gunfire stopped, replaced by the sound of fists landing on flesh.
Everyone who got close to John couldn't hold on till their companions reloaded, ending up having their joints twisted, knocked unconscious against the wall head-first.
Waves of dents from heads bashing against the wall lined up.
Buzz—
Gunpowder filled the showroom, and John detected another wave from Sianweistan.
His cochlea ached.
Time-stop device activated, including the prosthetic eye adjusting parameters automatically to keep up, causing dizziness and similar sensations.
The opponent was very close.
Sianweistan's slow-down rate was high.
Overall performance was nearing John's T17.
Tough presence emerged.
John bracingly looked, seeing a prosthetic limb sans synthetic leather darting into view, aiming straight for his gun-bearing wrist joint.
He instinctively released the weapon, swinging a punch.
The opponent reacted swiftly, blocking the punch before it hit the throat; high prosthetic limb power suggested equipped alloy skeleton.
The encounter generated force, stretching a gap.
John leaned back sliding, casually pulling a handgun from a wounded soldier, disregarding the weapon's non-lethal mode, firing three shots.
Bang, bang, bang!
All hit the chest.
Yet no blood splattered; the opponent could evade yet deliberately took the bullets.
This served as an attitude to stop fighting, and a warning.
"That's enough, John!"
The opponent roared furiously, raising hands to cease battle, teeth gritted expression alongside, breathed deeply, continued, "Keep this up, and we'll have to get real!"