My Cyber Psychosis is Task Prompt

Dark and cramped.

That was John's first impression upon entering.

A two-bedroom low-rent apartment.

Sofa and floor covered in takeaway boxes, walls piled with semi-finished products, and human models lying or leaning around the workbench.

Apart from the trash, there were used inhibitors and empty liquor bottles.

Edward turned off the blaring rock music.

If scissors were compared to a delicate giraffe, then Edward was a short, stout, temperamental porcupine.

He handed over a headband.

"Put it on, got something good to show you."

"...Shit, man, your style's just like those scammers in the alley."

"Scared of viruses? Wants to be a big shot but is a coward?"

"Virus or not, doesn't matter to me, if something goes wrong, it definitely won't be my problem."

John took the thing and put it on his head, data cable plugged into his neck, and Black Light quietly breached the device's program.

[Scanning image, please wait…]

A filter covered the field of vision.

Grid-like lines spread out and vanished, data streams converged on the open space in the room forming John's holographic projection.

His physique data and clothing are replicated proportionally,

"Time to tidy you up."

Edward plugged in the data cable, both sharing the vision, designing new clothes around the virtual figure, occasionally consulting John's daily habits and style preferences.

"This skin, did you peel it off someone else?"

"I like to ride motorcycles."

"Who says you must wear leather to ride? God, you look like a third-rate punk in that outfit, it's so weird, it doesn't suit you."

Motorcycle leather jacket was deleted.

The model revealed his chest muscles and arms.

John's physique was firm and sturdy, not over-the-top muscular, short brown hair matched with a high nose bridge, sharp eyebrows.

"You're strong enough inside, no need to dress flashy to attract attention, keep refining, maintain your style, add a bit of recognition..."

Edward muttered circling around the projection.

John felt he had become a different man, could sense—his authority and confidence in familiar territory.

Edward spent a lot of time understanding John's prosthetic body situation and combat style, even his usual gun size and spare ammo habits were asked.

Materials on the virtual panel were constantly adjusted.

John typically likes wearing thin bulletproof vests, combined with mercenaries' professional needs, designs started going towards loose and lightweight.

Edward first considered an Oversize high-collared short-sleeve sweatshirt.

But that thing wasn't practical enough.

He eventually chose the pilot jacket as a draft, began adding functional designs:

Various advanced materials started filling in.

Water-repellent outer layer and quick-dry inner lining are most basic, adding high-temperature resistant materials, abrasion-resistant layers, Sianweistan's mobility after activation also to be considered…

The final product offered by Edward was a functional workwear jacket.

Overall gray-black color scheme, removed fluorescent collar, eliminated meaningless graffiti and decorations, making the lines more simple and bold.

"Away from kitsch, adding a touch of light luxury simplicity."

Edward tried introducing his work, saw John's blank look and shrugged, switched tones and continued.

"No problem with the styling, even if attending high-end events, at most add a shirt and tie inside, in elite scenes, you'd look more like a proud Lone Wolf than a street kid."

John had no clue about fashion elements.

But he liked the jacket.

"How long for delivery?"

John knew custom orders require waiting.

Edward unplugged the data cable, seemed like he didn't hear the question, slumped on the sofa reaching for the liquor bottle only to find it empty, then froze in a daze.

He seemed like an Alzheimer's elderly, eyes somewhat confused, left eyelid along with half his cheek slightly twitching.

His gaze somewhat bewildered, eyelid dragging the face.

While John was thinking what to do.

Edward suddenly continued the previous topic, demeanor and tone like reconnecting after a power off.

"Won't take long, because I have a semi-finished product, this style I've long wanted to try, it's kind of half-pushed onto you."

He started adjusting workbench and mechanical arm.

An uncut jacket was spread under the spotlight.

It was dismantled into different parts, prepared to add the designs just made.

John crossed his arms and looked around.

He glanced in the corner seeing a large black trench coat, very imposing and lavishly used, couldn't help but think of a certain Lone Wolf who shone bright in the corporate wars of the '30s and '40s.

"Don't just stand there, you gotta get busy."

Edward turned the stand, explaining the screen content.

"I want the best materials for this jacket, but some things need to be fetched from elsewhere, got it? I don't have anyone to run errands, want it quick, get moving"

[Task target updated]

[Gather materials. (Not achieved)]

Edward pulled out a prepared sealed bag from the drawer, handed it to John, ushered him out of the room.

Alloy RCH remotely activated.

Roaring sounds made the kids nearby immediately flee.

John was about to zoom away, looked up and saw a new graffiti on the red brick wall, seemed to mimic Eisenberg's lines.

Though the colors were dull, it had some charm.

Sadly Eden City's most acclaimed works are all on walls, artists residing in gangs, only surviving bullets and explosions has the right to create.

Educational rights controlled by corporations.

[Head to Langmei Clothing Store. (Not achieved)]

Additional materials mainly focused on heat dissipation performance aspects.

Edward asked John to hand the bag over to Scissors.

He mentioned there's a heat-resistant fabric on the market to prevent Sianweistan's residual heat from burning through it.

John pondered as he made his way back into the city along Big Nan Avenue.

Traffic lights flickered in the shadow of the tall buildings.

He saw a group of gangsters dressed in long leather coats and couldn't help but look up at the sunlight reflecting off the glass facade.

"Aren't they hot?"

The green light switched on.

John revved the engine and disappeared into the sparse traffic.

Nocturne Bar came into view from afar.

John remembered this area, along with the past two blocks, once belonged to the Madox Gang. Unfortunately, the rock musician they supported killed Eden's sister, leading to their downfall.

Langmei Clothing Store was diagonally opposite, squeezed between commercial office buildings, flanked by large municipal structures.

Young people playing skateboard and gang members gathered on the spacious steps.

A police car was parked at the street corner.

Both sides maintained a delicate distance.

The East District was swarming with corporate drones, municipal buildings were scattered around the corporate structures, subway exits and hovercar tracks were perpetually congested, and passersby's attire was streamlined, vending machines sold shirts, and hovercar routes and drones crisscrossed overhead...

There was a hard-to-describe, cold sense of sophistication.

[Store - Langmei Clothing Store]

Scissors stood behind the counter, separated by thick bulletproof glass, talking to customers like a bank teller from an old movie.

After verifying the funds had been received, he handed out the packaged clothing.

It inexplicably had a taste of illegal trade.

John brushed past a customer, his gaze lingering briefly on the other's leather jacket, knowing he was a gang member, and even a mid-level small leader.

"Whose turf is this block?"

"White Motorcycle Gang."

Scissors watched the man's back through the window and said.

This new force sprouted in the East District, closely tied with Nocturne behind the scenes, as everyone knew, that bar was the true power hub of this area.

They said it was backed by a city councilman.

Even the ostensibly legitimate Nocturne Bar had shares from several major companies.

"Aren't they really hot?"

John finally voiced his doubt.

Scissors laughed and shook his head.

"Are you kidding? It's a common electronic cooling layer, a bit of extra money and it can be done, nothing special, lots of corporate uniforms have this thing inside. Simply put, it's a cooling circuit board, just connect a power source from the neon lines."

John raised an eyebrow, suddenly realizing.

It felt like someone had enlightened him to a basic fact.

"Oh, right, I used to work at Tiebang Logistics, and the drivers wore long pants and sleeves all year round while running in the wilderness, you know, that yellow sand and storms could dry a person out."

John laughed as he chatted with Scissors, images of his long-haul trips for the company running through his mind.

He handed the bag to the other party and explained his purpose.

Scissors took the bag and opened it, his brows furrowed all along, a Separation Chip was sandwiched between the Funds Card.

John tapped on the glass.

"I should get my goods. Is the money not enough?"

"Oh, no, just a moment."

Scissors snapped back to reality.

He seemed to be hit by some kind of information shock, hurriedly dropped the explosion-proof barrier, and went alone into the storage room.

John wandered around the shop.

He noticed various gear parts displayed inside the glass.

These items, the same as bullet materials, could be deliberately collected during battlefield cleanups.

Eden City had a lot of "stagnant" property.

Countless new faces appeared and disappeared every year, with endless wealth strewn about the streets and alleys, unclaimed dirty money, and incidentally lost bits and bobs...

While wandering, you needed sharp eyes.

If lucky, encountering a fresh corpse in the nook and cranny, scavenging nearby for a small profit was pretty normal.

John was lost in such wild thoughts.

Scissors came out of the room, carrying a box in his hand.

He seemed to intentionally keep John for a chat, striking a match to light a cigarette for both.

"Has Edward asked you to do dangerous things?"

"Does gathering clothing raw materials count?"

John exhaled smoke with a wry smile. "I originally thought just throwing money would suffice."

"Hahaha, that's pretty common."

Scissors said it was especially frequent when they first started.

Some customers were dissatisfied with the materials the two brothers prepared, so they would pre-prepare the items they needed.

Particularly the Lone Wolf mercenaries and gang leaders.

"They'd even throw bloodstained, bullet-riddled clothes onto our table and ask us to detach the odd things and transplant them into their orders."

Scissors smiled as he recounted these stories.

After hesitating slightly, he scratched his head and spoke.

"Edward is under a lot of pressure; I'm worried the inhibitors can't completely suppress his cyberpsychosis..."

Scissors could tell.

Even if Edward went mad, he couldn't take John down.

"If he truly loses control, please don't alert the cops or SAT, just contact me. If you're willing to act, try not to let him hurt others."

Scissors extinguished the cigarette, handing over a Funds Card.

"This counts as prepaid compensation, thank you."

"OK."

John agreed.