NOVEL NEXT Chapter 137: Deflated Shell
Scissors rushed over and snatched the microphone from the female reporter, angrily accusing Plato of stealing design drafts, driving people at the bottom to madness...
He shouted heartbreakingly, sketching out Edward's story in a few words.
The patrolling officers shook their heads and walked over, a few of them taking the microphone and kindly reminding him.
"Do you understand there's a charge called defamation of a company?"
"I fucking have evidence, Scipio's best-selling Kafei series were all designed by us. The original draft is only a part, and I have the rest here!"
Scissors was about to go mad.
The death of his brother made him lose the last shred of composure, baring his teeth at the camera without considering the possible reprisals.
John was ready to take action to rescue him.
But the female reporter moved faster than he did.
Upon hearing the evidence, her eyes lit up. She persuaded Scissors to calm down and showed her Cyber Night Language work credential.
"Are you sure you have evidence? Damn it, stop snatching, I can get you on TV, to confront Plato Company executives, make you tomorrow's headline!"
John watched for a moment and said nothing.
He quietly left the scene, riding through the city and waiting at the bustling street's traffic lights.
The movement trajectories of most people in this city remained unaffected.
Every day, cyber lunatics die at the hands of SAT, almost all having a story similar to Edward's, but the citizens, exhausted and busy, have no time to listen.
If it were another skilled mercenary instead of John who appeared in the shop today...
He might have killed Edward on the spot, not knowing what meaning the last words of the cyber lunatic in front of him held, nor would he know how pathetic Edward's obsession and delusion were.
And he wouldn't be as agitated as John is now.
The motorcycle roared under his grip, the rising numbers on the dashboard neither calming nor scaring him, the vehicle's fuel seemed to burn in his chest.
Yet John didn't know who this anger was directed at.
He urgently needed an outlet.
Alloy RCH carved a black drift trail on the road, accompanied by an ear-piercing sound of burning tires, ordinary citizens, and passing gang members watched him with wariness.
John dialed Barry's number.
"Help me check on a Plato executive, Kafei Crow, involved with the fashion design department, see if there's any connection to a fashion brand."
Barry on the other end of the phone fell silent.
[I've done my best, John, no matter what relation that unlucky fellow had with you, now he's dead, making a bigger deal of it won't matter for him.]
"I believe you'll understand."
[Shit, what the hell?]
"I just want to find a deserving bastard now and put a bullet in his head."
John parked by the road, eyes cold, talking on the phone while staring at gangsters, even hoping someone would come to pick a fight or steal the motorcycle, yet they silently moved away with their boombox instead.
"I upgraded the prosthetic body just to keep myself in good mood, that bastard is affecting that."
[I refuse.]
Barry's speech was slow and steady.
[Acting on your emotions and making others bear the risk, do you know what assassinating a company executive means? I answered the call as a friend, but if you want to talk about the ECPD Lieutenant Colonel, the conversation ends here.]
John also gradually calmed down.
He had interacted with state police and Oulos, and knew any movement in the struggle for power would cause a series of effects.
"Then let's talk about it as a business."
John said in an official manner.
"You must have some targets that you want to handle, even if you know they deserve it but have no way out. Let me know their names and details, and the problem gets solved smoothly."
Barry let out a light chuckle, then fell silent again.
John was certain this guy would agree, just based on that wavering moral line, there's probably a long list of names he wants to eliminate but finds inconvenient.
Barry could work with crooked cops, but there's definitely profit-sharing and forced compromises involved.
Sometimes it's not as convenient as being a Lone Wolf.
[Alright, I'm interested, I'll contact you later.]
The call ended.
John returned to the Dan Street Apartment, cleaning off the ashes clinging to his body and hairline.
The night fell on time.
Neon lights pierced through the floor-to-ceiling windows, outlining the colorful decadence in a deep blue background, with occasional sirens and advertisements drifting away quietly under the roar of flying devices.
Eden City was waking up.
No lights were on in the apartment room, filled with the aroma of coffee, with the night radio warming up the scene with cheesy jokes.
The washing machine was humming.
The workspace was filled with incendiary clips.
John stood bathed in a pale blue halo, wearing a vest, silently dismantling and maintaining his firearm.
[Contact - Barry Kit [Unread Message]]
[Watch the Cyber Night Language live broadcast, Kafei Crow is being interrogated on the show. His vehicle and license plate number are attached, and I just happen to know when he'll leave the studio...]
John waved to call up the display.
Cyber Night Language was Eden City's most popular talk show.
The organizers intended to expand the impact of the event, with the crowded streets and screens in malls driving traffic.
Company executives stealing manuscripts and driving a genius designer mad.
Class conflicts and the violent incident at Chengxin Square captured the public curiosity, deliberately mentioned by the media, bringing Plato's already fading Kafei series back into the public eye.
The host was deliberately amplifying the hostile emotions.