Chapter 42: Chapter 42: Special Overwrite
The chip needs to be inserted into the data slot to load.
Therefore, residents of the Cyber Era usually prepare extra data slots to wear one or two chips long-term.
Such as close combat modules, hacker programs, and the like.
But John doesn’t need them.
Any chip inserted into his body would be violently translated by Black Light, downloading the data straight into his brain.
The chip processed by Black Light is completely burnt out like a used special inhibitor, and can only be pulled out and thrown away. Then, the body feels exhausted, dizzy, and once again reminds him of the need for the special inhibitor.
Theoretically speaking:
John could load more chips and use a special inhibitor to clear them before his body sends a warning, achieving an infinite loop, but the reality is, as soon as he has this thought, a very bad premonition arises.
All cyberpsychosis die from the desecration of the body.
He cannot understand the operational principle of Black Light, nor does he know if there is a limit to his brain’s capacity, and he is even less sure if the ’special inhibitor’ has any side effects.
John always prepares for the worst:
His so-called speciality might just be the hallucinations before cyberpsychosis collapse.
His head is now throbbing with nausea, but with the doctor present, he can’t take out the inhibitor to relieve it.
Black Light read the chip
His body instinctively wanted to move.
The doctor gave him a vial of medication.
Poof—
The inhalable medication had little effect.
John’s body temperature kept rising.
He took a moment to regain control of his body, then stepped forward and threw two punches into the air, like a celebrity warming up in sports.
Suresh Company has a national background in Europe.
They are global suppliers of technological weapons and produce various derivative military products, such as this CQC series Fighting Chip.
It integrates various combined techniques, incorporating street fighting methods for conventional equipment since version 5.0.
John now seems like a professional athlete, able to perform responsive actions according to a template, but he still needs practice to fully master it.
But as a starting point:
This high-level, latest Fighting Chip is already leading on the streets.
The other chip is "Ranger."
It is a customized model from Raqi Industry designed for melee blades, sold in limited quantities by region, only as gifts for high-end members, and in high demand on the black market. Who knows where Eden extorted it from.
Harbor Company surely sees its value.
The Ranger chip limits the types of blades. Eden and his team were unwilling to waste a slot for a samurai sword, so John was given it since they prefer chips with higher general applicability.
[Data Loading, Download Complete.]
John made a beautiful drawing and sheathing motion with the Gambler, the neurotoxin clinging to the steel blade, leaving a faint trail in the air.
Ryan put down the bottle and pointed at him saying:
"Corporations are all bastards. Chip loads are getting higher and higher, forcing customers to replace with better prosthetic bodies. If the body can’t handle it, it becomes incompatible... At worst, it fries the nerve synapses."
"You don’t have to keep emphasizing prosthetic safety."
"Because we’re in the same boat, I can’t just watch you die."
John nodded appreciatively, asked after turning about the medical fees: "Doctor, do you know where to buy information?"
"What do you want to search?"
"Find some former colleagues to chat with."
John explained to Ryan.
Corporate colleagues are not like gang brothers; everyone only hangs out or works together, usually communicating via the company’s internal channel. The contract clearly states not to add contacts privately, unless there’s an intimate relationship; otherwise, one won’t even ask for addresses.
The most important thing is, becoming close friends with colleagues is the stupidest—Even a chauffeur might degrade and betray you for a promotion.
John wants to investigate the truth about the accident.
"I don’t even know who survived the accident like I did; I need to talk to survivors, see who they are, and what they know."
Ryan Randall sighed after hearing this.
"Street rules, John, information is the intermediary’s domain, do you have anyone in mind?"
"F*ck, that bastard with the tie clip."
John shook his head and decided to go home and rest first.
He activated the Atlanta Virtual Network, checked the status of his vehicle, and saw two Eisenberg luxury cars at the equipment center, which were completely out of his income level.
This is Eden City after all...
A dream where risks and opportunities coexist.
Silver Rider was being maintained, having scratched some bullet marks two days ago when rescuing Gino, so the only option was Alloy RCH.
John walked out of the clinic to the underground shopping street.
Industrial fumes gushed from vent grates, various bizarre shops wedge themselves into building crevices. Disorderly piles of debris abound, and young people with prosthetic bodies spew foul language.
Rock music and noise interweave.
Black Gold Gang’s graffiti covers the cement walls.
John pulled up his hood and walked through the dark passage, the steps were wet, and cold wind swept into his neck.
He was being followed.
John had just mounted the Alloy RCH when a gun was pointed at him.
"Shut up, unlock the code immediately, then get out of the car! If you keep yapping, I’ll blow out your kidneys and sell you off..."
"Ha—"
John chuckled bitterly and sighed.
The robber behind him paused slightly, suddenly feeling a sharp pain in his wrist, and his gun got taken away.
The robber hadn’t reacted, and his vision suddenly went dark.
John’s reverse gun-snatching move came from the CQC chip, an elbow strike on his side shattered the thug’s nose. In turning, seeing several people armed with submachine guns emerge from the shadows.
Buzz—
He twisted the handle.
The Alloy RCH lifted its front wheel, bursting with a piercing roar, zooming through the neon-lit streets of the East District.
The thug behind John frantically clung to him, cursing like a frightened child.
Yet the next second, the speed soared.
The street scene blurred in the blink of an eye.
Rushing wind filled the thug’s mouth, he felt his heart was being violently yanked backward out of control.
John lowered the front wheel, braking at the end of the street, bending it down. The metallic body grinding the thug’s leg bone along the road, and metal implants flew off directly.
He almost passed out.
But John grabbed him, drifted in place, returning to the scene.
Several gangsters watched their comrade get brought back, their eyes widened, and even their hands holding guns trembled slightly.
John got off the vehicle, pulling out the Gambler.
He felt his limbs move instinctively, the sensation of the blade unsheathing was exhilaratingly familiar.
The morning sunlight was gone, the sky overcast, and the alley was covered in skyscraper shadows, blood splattered, mixed with the sparse rain, flowing into the sewers. The screams came intermittently, the neon light reflecting a colorful glow on the gray streets.
John breathed heavily to calm his heartbeat.
The entrance to the underground passage had already been filled with corpses.
He turned around, seeing the legless thug crawling.
Bang—
The gunshot rang out.