My Cyber Psychosis is Task Prompt

The sign for Raven International Hub is enormous.

A row of metal letters stretches across the warehouse roof, with some of the lights broken and dim.

The road is also a bit bumpy.

But the searchlights are glaringly bright.

"John, the woman we're meeting is a lot like you, both with a kind of naive vigor. Her backing company finds her troublesome, all of Palmer's colleagues want her dead, and even those who have received her help aren't necessarily grateful."

Oulos raised her head, basking in the artificial sunlight.

"You should have ended up the same way, it's a pity, you died so fast you didn't realize how stupid you were."

"You're really speaking harshly today."

John frowned, following her into the warehouse.

The inside of the metal roof has a skeleton, with many pulley systems and lifting machines in operation.

Below the searchlights, forklifts come and go incessantly.

Tires with menacing patterns repeatedly crush into the pooled water.

Chunks of ice are shattered by the tires, bouncing onto metal tables and folding benches, slowly melting.

The people seated around the table gradually noticed Oulos and John approaching from the doorway.

They were all employees of Raven International.

But the intermediary Oulos was looking for was actually the owner of this hub.

She was by the wall.

There was a row of freezers placed there, with neon tubes on the wall forming shapes.

A woman in a leather jacket, with disheveled, greasy curls, looked at a freezer while smoking.

John noticed it was a traditional cigarette, and not a Golden Apple brand; it was a cheap street cigarette that he smoked for a while when he first came to Eden City.

This cigarette was strong, harsh on the throat, and ubiquitous.

An intermediary in charge of Palmer's overseas factory is smoking such a cheap grade product?

John instinctively scanned the other party's profile information.

[Name: Yura Young]

[Affiliation: Intermediary [Raven International]]

[Scan: Alloy Skeleton, Network Access Vault [Isaac Military Industry U20], Argos Bionic Eye I-16 type, etc.]

The next second...

A cacophony erupted in the entire warehouse, dozens of heavily tattooed, muscular men grabbed their weapons.

They formed a human wall, shielding Yura behind them.

The forklifts blocked the way out.

Curses erupted simultaneously.

Colorful gun barrels aimed at John.

The weapons had different calibers, complex origins; some were from Europe and some from Asia, all modified to various extents.

John grabbed Oulos, shielding her behind him.

Thud, thud, thud.

Yura knocked on the freezer door with her fist.

"Let them in... and all of you stop lazing around! Clean up the merchandise right under your noses, or I'll skin you if you leave a single box!"

Bam—

She held a section of tethering strap, now folded and clenched in her hand, and, after speaking, whipped it against a metal box with a loud sound, as if striking the hearts of everyone nearby.

The burly men with unfriendly eyes dispersed.

The hum of the machinery grew even louder, and the forklifts maneuvering between blocks became more concentrated.

John followed Oulos forward, his bionic eye instinctively locking onto the contents of the freezer.

It was actually two people in there.

They were wearing uniforms, seemingly employees of a company.

Daring to openly kill company dogs?

This scene alone involved at least three felonies.

The bodies in the freezer were bound hand and foot, their bionic eyes frozen, eyelids half-shut unevenly, the cooling fluid of their under-skin armor frozen and stagnant, bodies bruised.

These two were frozen to death alive.

Was Yura making a deliberate show of force?

John couldn't help but glance at Oulos.

But she acted as if she hadn't seen anything, casually sitting down and placing a half-drunk bottle of sparkling water on the table.

"Are you the one stuffing my inbox with junk?"

Yura also turned, sitting on a folding stool.

Her temples were graying, wrinkles deep, her physique sturdyly built; a pair of Hiti Industry combat boots braced against the table leg.

A mighty old woman.

"Five minutes for you, talk or get lost."

"I want a person."

"Sure."

Yura grinned, showing an ugly smile, pointing with the folded tie-strap behind Oulos.

"These are all good men, take your pick, girl."

"But I'm looking for a girl."

Ignoring her crude humor, Oulos shook her head with a smile and continued describing.

"She's an East Asia-Caucasian mix, has an Isaac Military Industry spine, a right bionic eye with a tear scar, oh and the pupils are red..."

As Oulos described, Yura's expression gradually changed, even gesturing to her guards to block off the warehouse exit.

"You're also here for 'Red Falcon'?"

Yura sneered, stamping out her cigarette under her foot.

"Eastern People have come, Ghouls have come, even folks from the company have come asking for her whereabouts. What kind of mess did she get into that you big shots won't let go?"

"I'm trying to find out too, so can you tell me where she is?"

"Heh, screw you!"

Yura flipped the steel table, pulling out a gun from her waist.

John reacted quickly, pressing the table down with his leg before it hit Oulos, raising his rifle in return.

There were also capable fighters in the warehouse.

The instant Yura flipped the table, at least three Sianweistan men around activated, and anyone approaching Oulos took a bullet.

John only fired as a warning, aiming for the leg bones.

No one here was dumb; with just one exchange, they saw—John's Sianweistan level was higher, enough to kill Yura under the table before anyone could react.

He raised the rifle, interrogating.

"It's my first time meeting an honorable intermediary, why the need to be so coy? Lay everything out clearly, can't we all be polite?"

"You've met too few people, exceptions exist for everything, kid. If someone's selling their life for you, you have to take responsibility for them."

Yura gave a bitter smile, shaking her head.

She hadn't drawn her gun, but instead let go.

John was a bit surprised.

"Do you think I won't kill you?"

"Damn, you're new."

Yura glanced at John.

"I know you're skilled, put your weapon away. If you want to negotiate, you can't kill me. What? Can you kill everyone in the warehouse? Even if you can, you won't get out of Palmer, the Eastern People will scent you and come after you; neither side will spare you. Even assuming you could, could you protect your employer while fighting?"

Yura turned her gaze to Oulos.

She hadn't even blinked when the table flipped but seemed to regret the bottle of spilled sparkling water.

Yura started negotiating.

"I don't know where Red Falcon is; she did seek me out, and I promised to help her."

"You don't even know what trouble she caused yet believe you can help?"

"I made no such promise."

Oulos knew Yura was being a rascal.

"Loyalty doesn't buy food, Yura. We haven't worked together, so maybe you don't know me..."

"Oh? Who do you think you are?"

Yura behaved wildly, her language crude.

She pressed further.

"Everyone who's come looking for Yura has named a price. Look, those two in the freezer behind are the discourteous, non-negotiables. What about you? Girl, what do you want to offer to buy me?"

"Giving nothing. In fact, it's you begging me to handle this mess."

Oulos sat up straight, smiling uprightly.

"Damn, you're playing me."

Yura spit on the ground, about to lose her temper again.

Oulos shook her head, her expression teasing, and started analyzing the situation for her.

John's brow twitched slightly.

He recalled the nights at Silver Port; Oulos had this same expression—casually chatting with Internet Surveillance, establishing the Wanderer's place with ease, the hard-earned results of hundreds of lives' war, divvied up in a few sentences.

This was a clash between two intermediaries.

Clearly, Oulos had more accurate intelligence.