John walked under the crane.
The driver’s seat was empty.
Next to it was a house made from a shipping container, with a sliding magnetic door, no lock; a push of the hand could open it. Talia, wearing a jacket, lay on the floor holding a gun.
John thought he had walked into a crime scene.
He was about to start scanning when the girl suddenly opened her eyes and sprang up.
"Why are you lying on the floor if you’re not dead?"
John dropped his bag, rested on his knees, and asked. "We just talked on the phone hours ago, but now you look like hell and are holding a gun?" Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on novel-fire.ɴet
"You are... oh, John, you’re quick."
Talia looked at the kinetic revolver in her hand—it had a thickened barrel, a composite grip, and a side vent chamber, giving the impression of some madman’s distorted creation.
She aimed it at her forehead and pulled the trigger.
The chamber was empty.
"Drinking last night made me feel like dying."
"Seriously? Look outside, John, what great weather, low sand content, suitable temperature, good visibility; we should be out in the wild finding an Exile squad to blast."
Talia nearly threw up when she got up.
She held her gun hand against John’s shoulder and slurred out:
"Strip those bastards’ gear and prosthetics, dump the stolen boxes at our feet, drink while we open them, how damn satisfying. If I lay down and sleep now, all that time would be wasted!"
John could smell a strange odor even through his scarf.
She pointed at the bottles and jars on the table. "Concentrated stimulants combined with potent sleeping pills, I left the choice to my body; if I’m awake, I’ll go work, if asleep, I’ll cherish my life."
"From street experience, DIY drugs rarely lead to a good end."
"Yeah, I’m a living example; my body has completely collapsed, yet my soul is partying in my brain."
Talia waved her arms and legs.
"They reached a delicate balance within me, but I feel so f*cking miserable, wishing I really could put a bullet in my head."
[Mission Objective Updated]
[Help Talia sober up and take her to work. (Optional)]
[Help Talia rest and go talk to Nando. (Optional)]
The mission offered two options.
John didn’t want to take a druggie on a drive, so he took out a sedative from the medical pack.
"Here’s some advice, since the drugs are balanced, let’s topple that scale. My suggestion is rest."
"F*ck, fine, listen to you."
John raised his hand and injected the syringe into her neck.
Talia swayed slightly, staggered back two steps, and collapsed onto the floor.
John picked her up and tossed her onto the bed, looking at this Russian-speaking lunatic, feeling a headache coming on.
"The boss is asleep, what a f*cking mess."
He went outside and walked north, finding Nando busy at a terminal.
"Road control system, impressive. I’ve seen this kind of high-end stuff at Tiebang Logistics; the company uses it to manage multiple transportation lines."
"You’re quite the connoisseur, John."
Nando leaned on the table, pulling a data cable from his arm to connect to the terminal, his cyber eyes flickering, immersed in complex data.
"The camp has expanded its manpower, and business scope and workload have increased several times over; orders are piling up, all cross-city transportation or armored escort deals."
Nando explained. "We spent a fortune to get a mainframe, to manage transportation orders in the wasteland, plus the city business."
Nando managed the Damascus Camp to flourish.
"What are you doing in the city?"
"I built relationships with a few local bosses and signed short-term contracts with several construction sites. Just need to get some engineering equipment and put our people in there."
"Impressive, how did you do it?"
"We registered a shell company, transitioned through outsourcing, and of course, shared profits with local bosses. Overall, it’s still profitable, at least so everyone can live well."
Nando briefly introduced to John.
The camp’s population is now large.
Members with skills contribute their wisdom at construction sites or get involved in other businesses, while family members stay at the camp to maintain vehicles and equipment, and take care of children and the elderly.
John was deeply impressed.
"I thought you became the boss because you could fight."
"Handling business isn’t really my forte, but it can’t be helped. The camp is full of geniuses or desperate fools; someone ought to stand up and make decisions, right?"
Nando unplugged the data cable.
He took out two bottles of beer from the condensate tank.
John thought of Talia and chuckled helplessly: "Everyone in the camp trusts you, thinking that with Nando able to back them up, they can act recklessly."
"You’ve seen Talia, haven’t you?"
Nando could guess who it was.
"I intended to handle it before calling you, but she got as anxious as a kid before a holiday."
"What exactly is the job, explain in detail."
"How much do you know about Ironfoot Kelp?"
John mentioned what he had done, only knowing:
He’s the leader of an Exile group, has some ties with Sarazi, and teamed up with Ghouls to blow up Plato’s Warehouse.
According to Nando’s description, the resources in the warehouse could arm a small army, various experimental prosthetics, and prototype weapons, heavily armored robots, and other bits and pieces.
"No wonder Plato was anxious; the news indeed downplayed it."
"On TV, except for the time, nothing is accurate."
Ironfoot Kelp used this opportunity to annex idle Exile teams and their businesses on the city’s outskirts.
The company put a hefty bounty on his head.
He’s been forced out of the city, hiding in the wasteland, starting to wrestle with the flourishing Damascus Camp as new grudges pile onto old, leading to frequent large-scale gunfights between both sides.
"Talia probably didn’t explain it to you clearly."
Nando became serious. "Kelp has overdone the prosthetics in his minions’ bodies and used special means to overclock them; the weapons he stole from Plato’s Warehouse are also dangerous, making this job tough."
He gulped the beer and lit a cigar.
"We’ve barely gained a foothold, and now this bastard is about to flip the table on us."
"Do you know where Kelp is?"
John felt the situation was quite solvable.
If there were precise coordinates, just pass them to an intermediary or Plato and let the company mercs crush him.
"Kelp is well-hidden, handling business remotely. Our target this time is a transit station stockpiled with loot; reliable info says the goods will be transferred to the city for black market distribution tomorrow at noon."
The action’s deadline was less than 24 hours away.
Nando furrowed his brow and turned to ask.
"Why hasn’t Talia replied?"
"We have a convoy on standby tonight; if you want to go now, take Benjamin with you. With two heavy machine guns for cover, manpower and firepower are plentiful."
This personnel is scheduled for an important escort tomorrow, the client is in a hurry, if delayed until dawn, the plan to attack the cargo station must be abandoned.
Nando paused, offering another choice.
"Talia was following up on this matter; she knows the specifics and has been preparing for a long time. You can wait until she’s sober in the morning, then go with the available folks to test the waters. In this way, manpower and firepower will be halved; if it can’t be done, bail out, it’s not worth dying for some goods."
[Mission Progress Updated]
[Night raid with Nando’s convoy. (Optional)]
[Wait for Talia, attack in the morning. (Optional)]