Chapter 189 - 117: Ordinary People

The road was cold and dark, with a halo glimmering.A police car slowly passed by on the street, countless neon lights overlaying the red and white steel surfaces, as if the colors had become much brighter.

[Sakura Cross Street - Gang Contact Point [Temporary]]

"Stay honest in the car, don’t look around, and definitely don’t come out to show your face... I’m doing this for your good."

Barry removed his seatbelt and got out.

He refused the help of gang members, choosing to personally retrieve the remaining loot from the back seat and toss it onto the ground.

A member of the Owl Town gang dressed in a suit greeted him.

After a few minutes, someone loaded two boxes marked with the Plato logo into the car, respectfully seeing Barry off.

[Item: Subdermal Armor Supplement]

[Manufacturer: Plato]

The environment was absolutely dangerous.

Everyone knew about the extremist and perverse nature of Eastern People, and appearing on the streets as an ECPD manager easily tempted impulsive actions from youngsters looking to make a name for themselves.

Barry felt a sense of calm as he navigated through Sakura Cross Street.

He was like a shepherd dog, wandering between black and white worlds, with bullets occasionally grazing past vital points but having gotten used to it.

On the way back.

Barry explained his earlier actions to John.

This Plato subdermal armor supplement was rarely purchased, mainly reserved for a high-spending clientele.

Barry used his authority to open up the channels.

The money he handed out earlier was just to share the profits with those working on the operational level, allowing them a taste of the benefits.

John could make future purchases through him.

Every transaction would come with a discount, much more economical than scouring the black market.

The key was the stability of the supply.

This time there was no need to pay; next time, arrangements with Barry would have to be settled clearly.

Of course...

For a colonel at the Eden City Police Station, this was just a very small side income.

"Where are you headed?"

"West District, Dan Street."

"Then I can only drop you off at the edge of the Bolago Club, going further would be a bit of a boundary overstep, given that my identity is somewhat sensitive."

Barry put his sunglasses back on.

He walked through the car diner, grabbed an expensive handcrafted coffee, and as he was paying, his sports smartwatch showed up.

"Look at you, living a high-society lifestyle. Why put in so much effort for small-time jobs?"

"It’s a kind of psychological adjustment, John."

Barry propped up his arm, steering the wheel with one hand, occasionally lifting the coffee to his lips.

"Do you know why I met you in person and took you on such a long ride?"

He asked back.

John waited patiently for the rest, with an expressionless face.

The police car drove through the urban overpass.

The rich scenery unfolded outside the car window, flowing as if within the veins of Eden City.

Barry had investigated John’s affairs.

"Some say conscience is worthless... that’s not entirely accurate. If naive street kids talk about morals and limits, I’d just laugh at their arrogance, calling them a naive Shark Coin."

"But you’re different, John. You’re already getting on the right path... After you’ve made a name for yourself, once in a while, you can still go along with your conscience to do something impulsive and reckless..."

"Hehe."

Barry chuckled as he spoke. "Then that’s different."

"I’ve never let moral standards bind myself."

John shook his head in denial. "No matter who asks me, I would never admit I’m a good person, nor should anyone think I’d hesitate when pulling the trigger."

"No, no, you’ve got it wrong."

Barry didn’t intend to label John as a good citizen.

The police car sped across the road, diving behind high-rise buildings, yet despite being at maximum speed, it couldn’t completely escape the giant shadows.

"The longer you live in Eden City, the deeper you’re entrenched, like being digested by those buildings, sometimes beyond your control, exhausted until death, the constant troubles distancing you from being human."

"Does this have something to do with what you do?"

John asked, turning his head.

With sunglasses obscuring his eyes, Barry’s jawline, unshaven and angular, stretched into a curve.

"Doing something stupid makes me sober, as if it slows down my digestion process."

"You just said conscience is meaningless."

"It holds no meaning to those slick and shiny people above but is very important to ordinary folks."

"Do you still need to care about ordinary people?"

"Why not, John? I actually haven’t completely crossed the chasm between classes. I’m just hovering in the middle, and I still clearly remember my position."

Barry stepped on the brakes.

The destination had arrived.

"Pleasant first cooperation, I’m satisfied with you. If there’s more work later, I’ll call you. Come by if you’re free. If you can still get things done beautifully, ECPD will open the back door for you."

Before leaving, Barry transferred some money to John.

He said it was the loot from the truck, distributed according to the combat situation in the factory.

[Side Mission: Ordinary Person (Completed)]

[Rewards: Subdermal Armor Supplement, Payment (Variable)]

The sound of the police siren faded away into the distance.

John, carrying the subdermal armor supplement, walked straight into the Bolago Club’s member hall.

He wasn’t looking for fun at the Steel Hot Forest, but instead to find the prosthetic doctor who did his skin graft last time.

Ryan Randall’s skills were indeed impressive.

But each trade has its specialty.

The Bolago Club catered specifically to social elites. Those who could afford the membership fees often suffered from image anxiety, and to be a doctor who cuts and stitches on the skin of such people...

They were top-notch, at least in terms of aesthetics.

Barry’s money came generously, after all, it was stolen funds, quick to come and therefore not too painful to part with.

John spent it lavishly as well.

He chose the most expensive package he could afford, enjoying full-body synthetic leather tinting and subdermal armor adjustments.

The head surgeon also had a lot of marketing pressure.

Continuously urging him to pay more for tanned skin or to add some animal elements, like leopard print and fur, which were said to be very popular among high society.

John firmly refused, and only by mentioning Mr. Vito’s name did he get the talkative doctor to shut up.

This couldn’t be entirely his fault.

The Black Gold Gang had a very wide influence, internally divided into several different business directions, using a lot of corporate management models, placing heavy sales pressure on front-line workers.

John’s last visit had been fine.

It seemed there had been adjustments within the gang—the Bone Shards faction was gradually gaining actual power, slowly taking over street businesses.

The surgery went relatively smoothly.

Once focused on his work, the head surgeon showcased his professionalism and showed concern for John’s physical condition.

The tray used to hold miscellaneous items was filled to the brim.

These were things extracted from the subdermal armor layers of John: discarded bullet casings embedded in tissues, along with deteriorated muscle bundles and fiber layers of bulletproof vests.

"You don’t cherish yourself enough."

The head surgeon gave a very candid evaluation.

John chose not to use the club-supplied materials, instead applying his own subdermal armor supplement, indirectly saving a significant amount of money, and stored the remaining part under his name for future adjustments if needed.

His body issues were resolved, but his life’s troubles weren’t any closer to being solved.

Again, his pocket felt empty; where would the next sum come from?

John walked out of the Bolago Club, looked back at the bustling crowd outside the large mall and the giant boxing match posters.

A name immediately surfaced from deep within his mind.

[Contact - Macao [Unread Messages]]

[Oh my, I couldn’t believe it was you calling. Stories about you are swirling all over the streets, each one more exaggerated than the last, and now many people think you’ve already passed away.]

[Come find me at the boxing gym. Everyone misses you, and we can chat about the boxing matches.]

John smiled as he descended the escalator, having just finished replying to the message when a call request came through.

[Contact - Angelica [Voice Call]]

Tipsy Bikini and the Bandage Boxing Gym were across from each other. Macao must have informed Angelica about asking him to come by.

John answered the call, and before he could speak, the girl on the other end lowered her voice to say.

[John, I need you.]