Chapter 222: Chapter 132: Edward and Scissors

The cabinet’s character is rather nasty.

He’s flamboyant and bold like most people on the streets, sketching freedom in narrow spaces.

John gets along with him quite easily, occasionally feeling a touch of reliability and surprise.

Though it almost turned fatal.

But neither of them minded.

Today, John came to pay a deposit and inquire about business. Black Spider had resumed work, and he needed a drone transport route.

The cabinet said he got the goods, currently en route—Barry used ECPD’s channels to smuggle from abroad.

“I don’t ask about its purpose, but the price isn’t cheap.”

The cabinet specifically explained clearly.

After paying the deposit, John checked his balance—several consecutive expenses made him feel a slight urgency; he must keep finding work.

But spending money always makes things easier.

If, like last time, he stole from the city, it might cause unnecessary trouble. If the cyber surveillance caught wind, various motives would be hard to explain.

The cabinet whistled after receiving the money.

“You’ve really hit it off with Barry. Honestly, I’ve never seen him rate anyone this highly.”

The cabinet met him during the fencing process.

Barry is flexible in his actions; his moral standards are questionable, but both the black and white worlds give him some respect.

He’s the only one in the Eden City Police Station to earn the rank of Lieutenant Colonel purely by resolving issues rather than relying on capital.

The cabinet reminded John not to be led astray by him.

“Barry’s identity allows him to protect himself. You’re a Lone Wolf; acting on emotions can easily lead to self-destruction.”

John was noncommittal.

The cabinet also had no interest in chattering.

“Think about it carefully. Maybe… it’s because you have a touch of humanity that you’re on the same wavelength with Barry?”

“I really don’t like being considered a good person. That term sounds even more jarring than dirty words.”

John changed the subject.

“I want to get a new outfit, something special.”

Clothing stores are everywhere in Eden City.

From underground market stalls to fashion brands at City Core Square, every design style reflects the era’s progression and social outlook.

You can see old-school traditional outfits in the city alongside flashy upper bodies with just underwear-clad burly men below.

An intertwining of bizarre flamboyance and practical subtlety.

The Cyberpunk era’s fashion embodies freedom yet struggles to form trends that transcend all classes.

The term ’fashion’…

Ordinary citizens and the privileged play their own games.

Styles, including kitsch, spread on the streets, gradually losing their original meaning with the era’s development and forming certain stereotypes.

For example:

Initially, exaggerated decorations represented resistance against corporate control and a determination to control one’s destiny.

Now, brightly colored and eye-catching clothes have become a stereotype for ruthless gangsters.

Tight leather pants paired with colorful hair always bring to mind those girls forced to sell their bodies out of necessity.

The Cyber Era allows people to judge by appearances.

If you pay attention to fashion TV shows or walk into luxury brand clothing stores listening to the sales pitch, you could summarize the city’s outfits with four words…

Kitsch, entropy increase, new military power, and new kitsch.

The clothing industry is also monopolized and destroyed by corporations. However, with the expansion of the ’clothing recycling’ business, it’s hard to be completely controlled by capital.

On every corner, people collect clothes through various channels, disassemble, clean, and sell them again, or break them down into raw materials for reassembly.

With the rapid development of materials science and military equipment infiltrating the civilian market, gear from corpses has become increasingly valuable, forming a black market industry chain.

“What kind do you want?”

The cabinet, as a second-hand trader, has some connections.

John took off his leather jacket, showing him the broken cooling slot on the back. He wanted a jacket capable of reducing Sianweistan’s cooling time.

The cabinet said there are two ways.

High-end military customization is controlled by corporations.

If the upstream channels are sturdy enough, having a company tailor based on calculated data is the best choice.

Names like Oulos and Kuang Xin floated in John’s mind.

This brought along various calculations and troubles, so he shook his head and listened to the second option.

The cabinet knows John likes good stuff.

Raqi Industry’s fine leather jackets were all burnt by him; buying second-hand goods from roadside stalls probably wouldn’t last.

The cabinet introduced an equipment designer.

“They’re two brothers, Edward and Scissors, both a bit… well, difficult to get along with, but their skills are undoubtedly top-notch.”

The cabinet specifically reminded John.

“They have two options; you should opt for Edward’s handcrafted customization. Trust me, you won’t regret it!”

[Task: Deflated Skin]

[Reward: Customized Equipment [Unknown]]

Alloy RCH emitted a hum.

The motorcycle slid into the gap between tall buildings, then darted out of the shadows, charging into the pale scorching sunlight.

[Task Objective Update]

[Head to Big Nan Avenue No. 536. (Unachieved)]

John passed Nocturne Bar, recalling when he first started—following task tips to kidnap a rock singer.

Eden City’s metabolism is very fast.

John was out of touch with the news back then and didn’t follow up afterward. By the time he came back to his senses, the Madox Gang had completely vanished.

No need to think…

It must have been Eden and Harbor Company.

Big Nan Avenue is very long, connecting the bustling city center and suburbs. Beyond the reach of public transportation, you can see interconnected building complexes; factories and cheap apartments soaked in industrial emissions and wasteland dust.

Eden City is like a luxury cruise ship.

These apartments and the residents living in them are like being tethered behind the ship, drifting in neon waves, with no concern for their mental health or living conditions.

Edward lives there.

Black tires rolled onto the steps, parking under the red brick wall.

The community is filled with criminals and the unemployed; many laid-off individuals leaned on the steps.

Wooden boards worn and chipped.

They supported prosthetic limbs, scruffy, clutching bottles in their hands—burning time restlessly, yet feeling anxious from internal conflict, which made their gazes fierce.

There’s an open space between the building gaps.

Construction materials and discarded furniture piled on dirt and wild grass.

A few children gathered around an old sofa.

The sound of the motorcycle’s engine drew them, yet they felt apprehensive looking at John’s Owl Town gang leather jacket.

The red brick building was embedded with an open-air staircase.

Walking on it creaked, and the corridors and walls were covered in graffiti and ads. The closer you got to the corresponding floor, the louder the rock noise became.

The damn speakers were on the fritz.

It seemed like it was about to take the whole building clubbing.

[Eden City – Big Nan District [No. 536]]

Someone was already standing at Edward’s door.

The guy was wearing a striped shirt, had brown slicked-back hair, and was banging on the metal door furiously with his hands on his hips.

“…F*cking hell, Edward, turn off that f*cking damn music… Hey, damn it, are you high again?”

He kept cursing under his breath.

“Stimulants will completely ruin you… Damn it, answer me, did you hear?”

There were sounds of clattering from the apartment.

Then a bottle exploded against the door panel.

“Get lost, I’m not in the mood right now.”

The person inside responded.

“Damn it!”

The guy in the shirt kicked fiercely, leaving a footprint on the metal sliding door.

John’s eyes switched between him and the room number.

“Does Edward live here?”

“Yeah… are you here to complain about the noise? Sorry, mate, I’ll handle it… please understand, he’s under a bit of stress.”

“Then I’ve come to the right place.”

John glanced at the guy in the shirt. “I’m here for custom equipment, heard he has a partner brother nicknamed Scissors…”

“Uh, that’s me.”

The guy in the shirt nodded with a wry smile, looking a bit tired, and brushed back his deep brown slicked-back hair with a hand.

He turned and leaned against the stairway railing.

His forearm muscles were proportioned and solid, with a defined jawline, indeed having the air of a fashion designer.

[Mission Objective Updated]

[Talk to Scissors. (Not Achieved)]

“What’s the deal now, sibling rivalry?”

“Sort of, I’ve gone solo, and he’s still making gear for mercenaries and gang members.” He said simply, handing over a business card. “Langmei Clothing Store, on the commercial street opposite Nocturne Bar.”

“Looks like you’re doing better than Edward.”

“Heh, dumb luck I guess.”

Scissors glanced at John, tilting his head to signal towards the room.

He said Edward recently got tangled up with local gangs, wanted to come see his mate, hoping to help him get back on track.

“And you see the result, the idiot locked himself in the room huffing and drinking, damn it…”

“Everyone has their down moments.”

John sympathized.

He could tell by the smell it was Cuban smoke.

Nicotine mixed with tar filled his lungs, smoke swirling through the hallway.

John wanted to light one himself but realized he left his stuff at home.

Scissors handed one over.

He lit it with an old-fashioned friction match—white phosphorus flared into a flame, the incense of burning wood mingled with street artist vibes immediately coming on strong.

Scissors took up the custom gear topic.

“Looking to gear up?”

“As long as it’s good enough, I can afford it.”

“Hmm?”

Scissors followed John’s gaze over the railing, seeing the parked Eisenberg RCH on the street.

“Alright, I believe you.”

“You’re a designer too right? Willing to take orders? I’ve heard you guys have a handcrafted service package.”

John proactively asked.

Scissors didn’t pick up, his gaze gloomy as he declined.

“I haven’t done handmade design gear in a long time.”

“Why?”

“Same as everyone else, whenever you make something good, bootlegs and knockoffs pop up instantly, software can generate thousands of similar setups in just two hours…”

Something was knocked over in the room.

Edward burst out of the door with great force.

His beard was scruffy, hair disheveled, remnants of blood on his face, like he’d been beaten in a corner.

Edward cursed with trembling lips.

“You…you cowardly bastard, take your escape excuses and get as far away as possible… as long as you keep using algorithms for design, I’ll never work in your store!”

John raised both hands and stepped away from the line of fire.

Scissors squinted and took several deep drags of his cigarette, listening silently to the tirade.

“Your cheek is twitching.”

He frowned and said.

Edward was in the middle of cursing, caught his breath before freezing, subconsciously raising a hand to hold his cheek.

“Cyberpsychosis…muscle spasms, right?”

Two pairs of eyes focused on John.

He shrugged. “I’ve seen quite a bit recently, your symptoms should be early stage, remove excess prosthetics, take inhibitors regularly and the symptoms can be relieved.”

“Come to the shop with me to make your choice, young man, this guy’s already unable to make gear for you.”

Scissors suggested as such.

“Don’t listen to this coward babble, if you want good gear come with me, cowards will never make it big in Eden City.”

Edward retorted sharply, hinting John to come in for a detailed talk.

[Mission Objective Updated]

[Get Custom with Edward. (Optional)]

[Buy from Scissors. (Optional)]

John hesitated for a moment, recalling instructions from his mentor, and walked into the apartment bombarded by rock noise.

“Aha, look at that.”

Edward boasted to Scissors.

He slammed the door shut, then suddenly opened it again, like switching into a solemn tone of multiple personalities.

“Stop minding my business, take care of your own, one of us has to be decent.”

The door slammed shut.

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