nucmednet Chapter 3: Fresh Gundams cost extra!
Chapter 3: Fresh Gundams cost extra!
In the Kingdom of God.
Luo Huan held the meal she had materialized, with cola and fried chicken watching intently.
The moment Old Mo was killed, a stream of information flowed back along the thread of faith.
The [Hound] structure next to it lit up, and some images appeared on it:
The man was smuggled in like a black slave. After having a daughter with an Asian toilet, she abandoned her debts and fled.
She works seventeen or eighteen hours a day in the kitchen of Chinatown, keeping her daughter locked in the basement to prevent her from being taken away.
His daughter, who inherited her mother's intellectual genes, grew up, and he hoped she would study to change her destiny.
The gang had concocted some enhancement agents, and the boxes were labeled "Finney Brotherhood."
The enhancer was sold to dockworkers in river ports who were at risk of losing their jobs due to injury or illness. They would starve to death if they didn't eat it, but if they did, they would surely die in the future.
Tell your daughter that you'll soon have enough money to send her to school and escape the cycle.
Finally, gunfire erupted in the river port area.
"Tsk tsk tsk, the infighting among the lower classes is an unavoidable part of the story."
Luo Huan started to complain.
"But why are you doing this kind of sacrifice all of a sudden? It makes me look like some kind of evil god."
It does look very atmospheric.
Then, looking at the beads again, I noticed that the perspective, which had previously been limited to Jansen, had changed.
My horizons have broadened.
Originally limited to Jensen, it can now be expanded directly.
Like the fog of war in a game, all the places Jason has been to have been revealed on the map!
The rust on the shipping containers, the smell of rotting fish and shrimp and additives in the air, and the trembling of homeless people in nearby cardboard boxes.
All sorts of information were presented perfectly!
"That's it! This incredibly complex atmosphere and environmental shifts that only exist in reality!"
Luo Huan was so excited!
After all, when she created her own world, she could only replicate it based on her memories, adding at most a few whimsical ideas.
But everything was within her perception, everything was part of her clear understanding.
In other words, she is the Laplace's demon of this world.
But now, a change has occurred!
"Unfortunately, the progress is still too slow."
Luo Huan pouted.
Beyond the traces of movement, there was still a thick gray fog.
Other areas of the city, out of state, further afield... know nothing about them.
But as she stretched her senses out as far as she could, a few faint ripples flashed past the edge.
From the west coast, a wave surged, arrogant, meticulous, and almost ruthless.
Somewhere in the east, another chaotic, frenzied, and sensual world unfolds.
In a certain southern state, there is also a heavy, viscous, and morbidly inclusive atmosphere—or rather, there is a lot of it nearby, but it is not as intense.
"Other seeds."
Luo Huan's eyes lit up.
She could sense the intense desire within their souls, the perfect breeding ground for her power.
But they are too far away, and the fluctuations are too vague.
"Still not enough of an influence, Jason. Aren't you getting too old? Why can't you hurry up and give this world a proper 'honey' moment?"
She poked at Jason's beads.
"Keep trying to reach Bronze rank. The more you level up, the further I can see and the more actors I can find."
River Port District.
The sun was already at its zenith.
Gundam is still there, but the blood has congealed and turned black, and it's missing an eye.
As a few homeless people passed by, the seagulls and mice scattered like birds.
They withdrew a step after seeing the hideous blood-red cross-shaped markings on the face—another piece of performance art.
We should wait for the official document to be issued.
A homeless man wearing a red baseball cap made a phone call on his cell phone:
"Alex, there's a dead body here in the port container."
The cell phone was distributed by a charity organization before, and here's what the ballot looks like.
You can starve or freeze to death, but you must have a cell phone when you need to vote.
Half an hour later, a gray van arrived.
Three very tall people wearing protective suits got out of the car.
They looked like a pair of star-crossed lovers.
"This is a mark? Tsk, did you guys call the cops?"
The tallest of the group, with a physique comparable to Dong Zhuo, Seris, an exchange student, frowned slightly as he looked at the Gundam lying on the ground and spoke.
The homeless men shook their heads.
He gestured to his senior brother behind him to make a phone call.
After all, he wouldn't dare touch someone with marks on their body.
Fortunately, the police were already on duty.
A short while later, accompanied by a siren, a Chevrolet with a lot of water in it sped over.
Two balls—no, wait, two slightly chubby people, one fair-skinned and one non-white—and two police officers got out of the car.
Well, even the most ill-fated couples couldn't match her plump and rounded figure.
"Did you see who did the killing?"
The white police officer asked the homeless men questions in a very deep voice.
The African American police officer used his phone to photograph the entire Gundam and then wrote it down in a notebook.
"He was a white man who used a shotgun."
"Hmm, another white guy, lol."
The white man said it casually.
Then have two body collectors come over to perform an autopsy and make a record.
After a short while, the evidence was ready, and two body collectors from the school lifted the Gundam and put it into the car.
Then came the exhilarating part.
"This was a shooting."
"Gundam is still a novelty."
"This isn't for drug use."
"The Gundam is intact, and there aren't even any maggots yet."
"but……"
"You'll have to pay more."
……
After a brief negotiation and payment, much like at a farmers' market, the two cars went their separate ways.
They left only a bag of enhancers and gave it to the homeless people.
The homeless people were overjoyed and hid in a corner to enjoy it.
Apart from a few traces of blood remaining on the ground, everything else seemed as if it had never existed.
"Wow, is this what the capitalist world is like? So efficient?"
Luo Huan felt utterly astonished by the divine realm.
"So cyberpunk isn't just pure fantasy, but based on facts? That's absurd."
She then turned her gaze to Jason.
Dearborn neighborhood, the Jason family home.
Morning light streamed into the living room through the dirty window.
Jason returned, the smell of blood on him had faded, and his eyes were colder and harder.
He went into his son's room.
Gundam has begun to change.
It seems that the cold Gundam would be more beautiful if it were replaced with warm US dollars.
However, Jason immediately dismissed the idea.
He watched silently, his facial muscles tense.
He didn't shed a tear, as if he had already cried all his tears, and reached out to make a phone call.
The first call was to Pastor Roy of the community church.
The man who delivered a eulogy at his wife's funeral and advised him to dispose of the Gundam quickly after his daughter's death to avoid affecting the community's perception.
"My son Michael died and needs a funeral."
"Oh, the lamb returns to the Lord's Kingdom."
Pastor Roy's voice carried a formulaic sadness and a hint of estrangement, but he agreed.
The second call was to a budget funeral home.
When the other party made the offer, Jason's eyes didn't move.
There was still some money left in my pocket, which my daughter Gao Da had exchanged.
The funeral was held in a small cemetery behind the community church, with only Jensen and Pastor Roy present.
The coffin was made of the cheapest pine wood and was unpainted.
Under a leaden sky, Pastor Roy read the same old eulogy.
Jason stood ramrod straight, his hands clasped tightly in front of him, his knuckles white.
The old cross around my neck was burning hot.
He bowed his head, his lips moving silently as he whispered to his Lord.
"...Mike, Lamb of the Lord, may your soul return to heaven."
The coffin was buried in mud.
Pastor Roy left in a hurry, as he had several funerals to officiate at that time.
Jason stood alone in front of the simple cross-shaped tombstone for a long time.
Rough fingers brushed over the name "Mike Jensen".
"Wait."
His voice was hoarse.
"Dad will make them...pay the price."
As he turned to leave, his silhouette against the gray sky resembled a rusty yet deadly knife.
Back on the streets of the community, the atmosphere changed.
When the neighbors saw him, they looked away or turned and went inside.
The curtains moved slightly.
Whisper.
Fear, suspicion, alienation.
A white veteran who has lost all his ties, is strong and muscular, carries a gun, and has a terrifying gaze.
He's basically been equated with a mentally ill gunman.
Compassion evaporates quickly in the face of a sense of security.
Jason saw through it all, but didn't care at all.
Community? Neighborhood?
The dignity and order he once upheld now seem hypocritical and laughable.
His world had only one path left: to clear away the impasse step by step along the red line given by the Lord!