NovelSearch Chapter 532 - 350: Interview
Chapter 532 - 350: Interview
The enemies came surging in, a chaotic mob.Although their prosthetic bodies were not as advanced as John’s, their sheer numbers and relentless tactics, willing to trade injuries without regard for life, almost struck critical points several times.
John, too, had lost himself in the kill.
With the [PreCogOS Protocol] active, he constantly anticipated their moves in close-quarters combat, countering with strikes at deadly points.
John pressed on with determination, ignoring his wounds, hacking and slashing for several long minutes until his vision cleared, and no enemy closed in on him anymore.
"Huff, huff—"
John was drenched in blood, his face sticky, hot, and metallic-smelling. He panted with his mouth open, unwilling to swallow the blood, spitting constantly to get it out.
[Processing attackers: 16/17 (incomplete)]
John noticed the mission prompt, flicked [Sora], and let the blood clinging to the blade’s edge slide off.
Then he raised his gun.
[Bastard, you’re fucking dead! (Japanese)]
The language plugin caught a burst of curses.
John couldn’t quite hear it clearly, touched his ear with his hand, all blood and chunks, unsure if they were his own, but the pain was intense regardless.
Bang, bang bang!
[Come out, or I’ll kill him! (Japanese)]
"Wait."
John paused his reloading, loudly questioning in confusion.
"Kill who?"
[...Aren’t you here to rescue him? (Japanese)]
"Fack squids, bastard, I came for an interview!"
[...]
The Eastern man was breathing heavily, clearly under immense pressure. The fact he hadn’t charged in with his companions showed he was rational at his core.
And when fear catalyzes rationality, it tends to turn into timidity.
[How much are they paying you? The Cheye Group offers double! (Japanese)]
"You should’ve fucking said so earlier, man! I’m a mercenary, money talks!"
John stood up straightforwardly and finally saw the warehouse’s interior.
There were towering and low cargo boxes, wheeled racks, refrigeration units, and insulation layers, with unmelted shards of ice in the corners of the walls.
Around them were overturned tables, chairs, and various debris.
A body hung from chains in the room’s center, covered in blood, evidently tormented by these Eastern scumbags.
The body dangled half a meter off the ground.
An Owl Town Gang member in a floral suit stood behind him, using the swinging legs as cover, slightly tilting his head, trying to get a clear view of John.
He clutched a submachine gun.
John scanned the weapon information; it was from the Vaki Ronin series, a pricey choice—the guy’s hands were shaky, wasting a good piece of equipment.
"Listen, I don’t want any trouble."
John spread his hands, the rifle hanging by his side, looking exhausted.
The Owl Town gang member seemed to have seized control.
[Leave here, and there won’t be any trouble! (Japanese)]
"Ah~ See, Old Harper was right."
John, face covered in blood, smiled, the corners of his lips twitching from a rib-side slash.
"Didn’t you say you’d pay me earlier, and now you want me to leave?"
The Eastern thug’s breathing grew heavier.
His grip on the gun tightened, ready to shoot at any moment.
[You... (Japanese)]
"Oh, come on."
John’s cyber-eye flickered slightly. "If you’d tried chatting when I first got off the car, that might’ve worked."
He was just waiting for the Sianweistan cool down to finish.
John vanished from his spot, and before he knew it, he was pinning the Owl Town thug to the ground with one hand gripping [Sora].
"Now it’s personal."
He stood up, twisted his neck, and spat.
"...Hey, you..."
John suddenly heard a weak call.
He looked around, lifted his head, and saw the body hanging by his feet looking down at him. "What’s your name?"
"Wow, I thought you were dead."
John activated his cyber-eye to scan the other’s information.
[Name: Rory Sullivan (Refrigerator)]
[Affiliation: Middleman]
[Scan: Prosthetics—Connoisseur, subdermal armor, etc.]
Minutes later.
John returned to the warehouse with some meds from the sports car, seeing [Refrigerator] sitting on the ground staunching his wounds, walking over and shaking his head with a grin.
"You’ve lost it, buddy."
Raphael mentioned he needed to interview but didn’t specify that the interview involved saving the employer before they got beaten to death.
"If I had another way, I wouldn’t ask a middleman for help."
Refrigerator’s voice was hoarse, with a peculiar tone. "Congratulations, Mr. John, you’ve passed the test, and I’ll settle the payment."
His demeanor was stable, without anger, resentment, or relief.
John noticed a spreading puddle at Refrigerator’s feet.
"Did you piss yourself?"
"NO, John, that’s my arm."
Refrigerator raised the strange prosthetic arm, mostly a metallic structure without artificial leather covering. The palm’s stubs were radiating pieces.
The joints had unmelted ice, with water trickling from the elbow.
"Heh, alright, so what’s next?"
John asked, arms crossed: "We’re at Sakura Cross Street, the Owl Town Gang could surround the warehouse anytime. Should we change places to chat?"
"No need, Mr. John."
Refrigerator shook his head.
"I don’t blindly trust any middleman, so tonight you’re not my only backup. As long as I’m alive, stupid people will pay the price."
"You’re gutsy. What if it wasn’t me, or I messed up?"
"Then it shows Raphael’s reputation is nothing special, and you are, John, you’ve done excellently!"
Refrigerator’s tone stayed calm throughout.
His gaze toward John was deep and unfathomable, his steps firm and composed as he headed toward a sink.
John thought he was much like Oulos, exuding the composure of someone experienced, hardly revealing any emotions even when moments before being tortured by gang members.
Refrigerator seemed familiar with this warehouse.
He found the break room, changed into a new shirt and blazer, before returning to John and immediately apologizing.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. John."
Refrigerator formally extended his hand.
Seeing the seriousness written all over his face, John hesitated for two seconds before extending his hand—Refrigerator’s palm patch aligning with John’s knuckles, all the neuroregulator sensed was coolness.
After the handshake, they got down to business.
"I tried wiring the fee to Raphael earlier, but she refused, saying the mercenary she sent to rescue me requires a different form of payment?"
"Hmm, she’s indeed considerate."
John nodded with a smile, then told Refrigerator his restaurant needs.
They chatted for a few minutes, sitting on the chairs and tables they’d just set upright.
Refrigerator remained expressionless throughout.
John could understand.
Dealing in high-end clubs and elite business figures, he’d have little interest in a street-level restaurant.
However, the other didn’t interrupt, nor did he show any impatience, only interlocked his fingers seriously after John finished his introduction, asking:
"Mr. John, how much do you know about beverages?"
"...Wow, uh."
[Mission objective updated]
[Casual topic discussion. (Optional)]
[Honest explanation. (Optional)]