My Cyber Psychosis is Task Prompt

Chapter 528 - 346: Old Harper

The gunfight was brief, lasting just a few clips of ammunition, ending as adrenaline barely took effect.A group of people converged, quickly dispersing to secure the surrounding streets, checking the bodies, and handling the scene, allowing the tension to slowly dissipate.

John appeared the most natural.

He stood alone on the other side, head down, inspecting the Skuqi revolver in his hand.

This gun was worth spending time to acclimate to; it could resolve narrow environments difficult for Triangular Maple to operate in, or face combat situations.

Gerry and Maya naturally gravitated towards the boss.

They wore bulletproof vests, equipped with the standard version of the Rongju combat rifle, all second-hand goods from the black market, with close-fitting blades at their waists.

At least they looked the part.

Gerry’s street experience mainly focused on business operations, and the gunfight had him furrowing his brows, always gazing around pointlessly.

Maya, with agent experience, held her gun more relaxed than her husband, her glances always in the right direction.

Gaf was the most honest and straightforward one.

She had a new prosthetic body, enough to fend off hooligans encountered on the road, but not included as combat strength, holding merely a small handgun, tightly following the two.

John silently stored his weapon away—this was all his employees, regardless of logistics support or restaurant operations, they had considerable shortfalls.

A few people approached the boss, reporting specific situations:

The Owl Town Gang had been around for some time, only breaking into formal conflict today.

John’s warning had not worked.

Eastern people, eh.

With their culture and character, and considering gang interests, the threat of a mercenary was insufficient to make them abandon this street.

The Eastern people had been inactive before because they observed that the Black Gold Gang had made no moves.

It’s not that the brothers disappeared, but their major illegal business, daily armed patrols, and numerous gang activities all avoided this street.

This was a quite restrained behavior.

At this stage of gang warfare, only after negotiation and transaction between the leaders would such a situation arise.

After Saw’s death, John sent a message to Bone Shards.

He was unsure if it was his warning at Bone Shards’ office or the text message that went unreplied that did the trick.

Perhaps both.

Perhaps neither.

John looked at the busy Wanderers in the distance again.

Old Harper led a few people inspecting bodies, collecting vehicles and spoils, doing simple scene cleaning.

He raised a hand in a smile toward John.

John responded, then turned to Gerry.

"Be careful with Harper, don’t get too chummy."

"They’re helping us rebuild the restaurant."

"It’s not like we aren’t paying."

"Understood, boss," Gerry replied immediately, then tentatively asked, "Is your relationship with Damascus not great anymore? Is it because of us..."

John waved his hand to interrupt.

"Damascus is too big now; not every Wanderer is our friend. Did you hear any rumors at the camp about the Wanderers planning to clash with the Black Gold Gang?"

Gerry looked bewildered.

Maya nodded toward the boss.

John glanced at Old Harper in the distance, then pulled out the cigarette Gino had given him, sharing it with the employees to taste.

Several puffs of smoke mingled together.

John explained to the employees.

He could handle the Owl Town Gang’s lackeys by himself.

Old Harper fired the gun, indeed helping out, waiting for them to fight others, John couldn’t pretend he didn’t see.

If Alonna and Nando called John for help, he would go, but they never chose to bother John with the camp’s stubborn problems.

Old Harper knew John cared about favors, constantly finding opportunities to make him owe something.

That’s the difference.

John chatted and smoked with the employees; in a few words, the fine cigarette was finished.

Gerry also smoked traditional cigarettes and used to make some snacks at his stall.

He recognized that the cigarette in his hand came from a professional production line, but the external packaging and the logo on the butt had never been seen in Eden City.

"This cigarette... tastes pretty good."

Gerry looked towards the boss.

John nodded in agreement.

The smoke also streamed from his nostrils, smooth and non-irritating, his nasal cavity able to capture a subtle toasted grain aroma, accurately speaking, somewhat reminiscent of starch compounds overly fried by street vendors’ iron plates.

But tobacco, after all, sure to damage the body.

The difference lies in whether the level of harm and the emotional value provided are proportional.

"Where’s it from, no issues, right?"

"Seems like North Africa, anyway, it’s contraband..."

John repeated Gino’s words.

A tobacco company wanting to open up the Eden City market brought new goods, promoting them among the target demographic.

Currently, the pricing was unclear.

Not many tobacco companies John had heard of.

When he’d worked at Tiebang Logistics doing deliveries, he often smoked, besides some occasionally bought illegal loose goods, bought Wildfire from vending machines with its three flavors and price points, good and cheap, strong, suitable to refresh and stay awake on long hauls.

Later, becoming a mercenary.

John began encountering high-end companies like Golden Apple.

Mr. Vito, Oulos, Bismarck, Ratlidge, essentially influential figures liked using high-end tobacco to showcase status.

John lowered his head and flipped the cigarette box—the brand translated to Tua, using Arabic and French words.

This was another commercial competition beyond the visible scope, similar to Farmers’ fresh produce, Eastern people’s gang wars, legislator changes, media competitions, and the buying and selling of second-hand vehicles...

This city was always biting.

John tossed the remaining cigarettes to the employees, not thinking further.

Gerry smoothly brought up the bar topic.

The restaurant’s reconstruction would be completed within a week, the warehouse needed to start stocking up, other raw materials weren’t really a problem, for drinks, what level of grade was intended to be offered?

"If just simple beverages are needed, those sold in vending machines and cheap bars are easy to procure, suppliers are everywhere."

Gerry had some experience as a street vendor.

"The bar looks so nice; if there’s no rare stock, it’d easily become a laughingstock."

"Ah, I know."

John had visited Tipsy Bikini.

Someone named a drink after a deceased legend, giving you a unique formula created and served, quite commemorative.

"That’s another matter."

Gerry shook his head with a smile.

"Drinks are categorized; base spirits and strong beverages all have quality differences. Industrial whisky and imported rum are two different prices, some even rarer, like high-end wines and tequila, are sold by the glass and aren’t easy to acquire without some skill."

Gerry knew the boss was clueless, so he reminded him.

"Are we going to settle for a soft launch or seek out knowledgeable black market sellers for inquiry?

[Mission Update]

[Provide regular beverages. (Optional)]

[Find a rare beverage supplier. (Optional)]

"Let’s get something different."

John had had a similar thought.

Since the employee brought it up, he took advantage of not being too busy to get it done.