One went out first to check the outdoor environment. Another followed behind to clean up the tail end, and before leaving, looked up to observe the building’s perimeter and rooftop. The electromagnetic bullet blew his head apart from above. The company soldier barely had time to look up before collapsing, and the other two soldiers instantly fled. John didn’t pull the bolt, immediately firing. Due to the lack of reset calibration, the bullet swerved a bit, only hitting another man’s body. The electromagnetic bullet didn’t penetrate, but still knocked the man down. Before the soldier could raise his gun to retaliate, two more bullets flew out, hitting the chest and abdomen respectively. John didn’t have time to run down the stairs; he swung the sniper rifle in front of him, raised the rifle and cleared the edge of the downward floor. The observatory was already abandoned, the building an alien geometry with multiple interwoven floors, and the topmost being a domed astronomy room with several small terraces leading to the lab building below. John directly sprinted from the rooftop, jumping into the window and rolling multiple times inside the abandoned building. The subcutaneous armor not only stopped bullets but also prevented sharp object scratches. Upon landing, he didn’t have time to rest, rushing once more toward the front window, stepping on the platform, and flipping out, dashing to the end of the hallway, and jumping to grab the side maintenance ladder, sliding down. The thick-toast transport truck within the walls had already started. John stood at the main entrance. He pulled out the sniper rifle again, waiting quietly, adjusting his breath and syncing the bionic eye with the sight. A strong light source flashed through his view. The night vision mode experienced a brief noise. John switched to naked bionic eye aiming, adjusting the implant’s light perception, immediately spotting the driver in the seat. The last bullet was fired. The unique hum of the electromagnetic bullet pierced the air, glass shattered, and the urgent braking was accompanied by the sound of debris being knocked over... John discarded the sniper, switching back to the Zebra GUB. Calmly, he watched the transport truck tilt in front of him, barely stabilizing from its precarious imbalance. A company soldier clutched his right chest, gasping, coughing blood, and after a brief struggle, lost signs of life. John opened the passenger side, hoisting the again-dazed child away. Plato Company’s soldiers could arrive at any moment. [Mission Objective Updated] [Talk with the baseball bat. (Optional)] [Evade the Plato Company’s pursuit. (Not Achieved)] John summoned a familiar motorcycle, tossing the hostage onto the front hood, using his body for balance. Then came the wild ride through the night. Though there were a few company cars nearby, they couldn’t be used—even if Plato’s firewall were breached, there wasn’t enough time to dismantle individual trackers. The company hovercars would search via the signal source. Machine guns fired at the ground, distant electromagnetic bombs flung down, or things laid on the road for stopping... In short, there were many ways to die. John knew their methods and jumped into his car, leaving the ring road as fast as he could. He didn’t contact Gino, but called Tinfoil. [Tinfoil: You have 30 seconds.] The voice from the phone sounded somewhat irritated. As a mercenary, John was a nocturnal creature, but Harbor members worked under formal contracts, having various daytime troubles to handle, so their schedule was relatively normal. "I heard from Gino that you guys have some organization..." [Get to the point, I’m really tired.] "You know someone called Baseball Bat? A South American kid, currently lying on the motorcycle hood, and we’re just trying to escape." [What? That Wanderer Alliance... wait, alright, I just saw the email message, Gino actually asked you for help, uh, you said he was a kid? We haven’t met each other...] "Hey, wait a minute, girl, I’m calling not to help you meet your online friend offline, we’re escaping, you understand? I need a place that won’t get its door kicked in by anyone." [Uh, yes, sorry, I just woke up, need to sort out my thoughts, sleeping pills are gnawing at my brain, who’s chasing you?] By now, John had already passed through the dam tunnel, seeing through the motorcycle’s rearview mirror a hovercar flying towards the accident site in the distant sky. Reinforcements called by the company dogs were likely arriving. "Not sure if cybersecurity is involved, but on-site, it’s all Plato’s soldiers, and Bismarck too." [That project manager?] "Exactly, the sneaky guy dealing with Eden, in any case, I do feel like poking a hornet’s nest now, need to find a safe place and figure out the situation." John explained the predicament. They all knew the outcome of being hunted down by the company. The last person who pissed off Plato was Ironfoot Kelp, who still doesn’t dare to show up in Eden City. "Should I just go back to Harbor?" [Forget it, I didn’t report to Eden. I’ll send you a safe house owned by the company. Go through the checkpoint at V36 on the ring road. Wait for the signal when passing the smart scanner, I’ll help erase the electronic tail behind you.] John noted the route and turned the car around. He was about to start the second midnight run when the baseball bat lying on the hood suddenly shook its head, trying to get up. John didn’t have time to speak... The baseball bat was so startled by the rapidly changing street scenes and the narrow "front seat" of the motorcycle that it freaked out. It had nowhere to put its hands and feet and started grabbing randomly, even trying to turn to clearly see John’s back. "Hey, f*ck, don’t do that!" The motorcycle skidded on the road, leaving messy brake marks. After slowing down, John immediately pressed the little brat’s head down hard, not controlling his strength, causing him to bash it directly against the hard engine hood’s protrusion. The baseball bat screamed, rebounded, and lifted its head, only to be hit again on the back by John’s clenched fist. This time there was no scream. After two heavy blows, the little rascal fell asleep again. "I’m really not good with kids." John cursed as he revved the engine again, the tires rapidly spinning toward the arranged bridge. Thıs text ıs hosted at 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡~𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢~𝙣𝙚𝙩 There were no manned patrols on the road. It was the wee hours, with huge industrial letters glowing from afar already showing the V36 sign. On both sides were speed cameras, vehicle scanners, and automatic isolation posts. The Eden City Police Station invested massive amounts in these things, claiming it was to reduce nighttime duty casualties and care for officers’ families, but the laid-off officers had already protested several rounds. Drivers slowly drove through the gate. The Shark Coin in front of John rolled down the window and tossed an empty drink container onto the detector. The angle was well-judged, avoiding camera recognition, only triggering a mild warning. [Scan detected, communication signal request/confirmation.] [Tinfoil: John, can you hear me?] "You actually hacked the municipal machines. Would the police tolerate you messing around ?" John seemed a bit surprised. He had never seen anyone hijack a public channel for personal use. [Those weaklings squeezed by the company probably don’t care. Even the chief is only concerned with the agency’s political position in Eden City.] John made no comment. Being a cop in Eden City was a thankless job. [Listen, just head to the coordinates. I’m going to track the road cameras to help you handle the footage, prevent tracking. The company executives are involved now. So, don’t tell Gino yet. She doesn’t have means to protect herself; we’ll talk face-to-face later.] John left his back to Tinfoil. Eisenberg’s motorcycle cut through the city, finding a maze of apartment complexes. [Eden City - Sakura Cross Street, Apartment 164] John drove into the elevated level. Gradually, more Asian faces appeared around. This was within the territory of the Owl Town gang. The streets were plastered with garishly colorful sex industry advertisements, chaotic and complex three-dimensional projections dancing like demons. The company skyscrapers pierced the sky, cold and eerie, while the residential areas were messy, structurally chaotic old apartments. John carried the baseball bat, walking into a narrow tunnel. The corners were piled with cartons, emitting various debauched sounds. Men and women with Super Sensing Players seemed lifeless, scattered drugs everywhere, while disheveled workers got up to smoke and prepare to solicit the next customer. John’s appearance drew no attention. He opened a top-floor workshop with a secret electronic lock, the metal sliding door heavy, surface marked by strong impact marks, graffiti filling gaps between the door and the wall. Light strips lit up as the door closed. Tinfoil emerged from behind a metal cabinet. After confirming it was John, she lifted her hoodie and tucked a gleaming tech pistol back into her waistband.