Chapter 390: Chapter 224: Death Is a Business

“No one’s got it easy, let’s worry about ourselves first. If you really can’t think of anything, I’ll come up with something for you!”

John patted Gino on the shoulder, helping her come back to her senses.

“In the underground boxing arena of the Black Gold Gang, people die almost every day. How are those bodies handled?”

“Heh.”

Gino lived in the West District.

Her brother was the owner and coach of the boxing gym.

“I actually know where those bodies go.”

The largest money pit in the West District is the Bolago Club.

This large mall houses all levels of underground boxing events, along with industries related to it across two nearby blocks.

And in this area of inch-by-inch gold, there’s a large funeral home.

It’s a legally certified funeral processing company.

The manager is a gang leader, one of the Bone Shards.

The funeral home’s secret owner is the Black Gold Gang.

Having a legal body processing institution is of unspeakable importance to a gang.

It can be used to destroy evidence and conduct member funerals.

Usually, it’s also open to the general public. You could even say it’s a monopoly—the legal handling of bodies in the West District must go through them.

Extortion is a normal phenomenon.

The cost of handling a body fluctuates between “free” and “your bank balance.”

The vehicles of the funeral home are registered with both the municipality and the ECPD.

The Black Gold Gang often uses the transportation of bodies for smuggling goods, organ trading, and almost every black market activity you can imagine, is linked to this “funeral home.”

In the Cyber Era, citizens widely accept prosthetic body implants.

Bodies have value.

Whether they’re organic organs or technological products, they are worth dissecting, categorizing, and thoroughly utilizing.

So in Eden City…

[Death is serious business.]

John’s meaning is: the gang controls the local death business, so why not consult the professionals?

[Contact Bone Shards. (Optional)]

[Contact Mr. Vito. (Optional)]

[Contact Jilead. (Optional)]

The call was eventually made to Jilead — who Gino thought was the most appropriate person among the West District gangs.

[Contact: Jilead [Voice Call]]

A few words were enough to explain the issue.

Gino straightforwardly wanted to have the body sent back to the West District for cremation.

Everyone used to sit at the same table in Angelica’s bar.

From then until now, Gino never held back when speaking to him.

Even though Jilead is now a gang leader, effectively managing an industry, with a hundred or so Black Gold Gang members ready at his command.

[Want me to arrange a car to help you transport the body to the West District?]

“In a word, yes or no?”

[No way.]

“…Shit, I knew you weren’t reliable.”

Gino couldn’t be bothered to sweet-talk.

Jilead, however, just chuckled and leisurely spoke up.

[Have you woken up from a stupor? Or were you pulling an all-nighter in cyberspace? Didn’t you catch yesterday’s big news?]

Last night, the Raft Qi hovercar crashed onto Sakura Cross Street.

A quick check on any news channel could show you the live broadcast of the accident scene.

No matter the truth, now the whole Eden City knows a big move was made in the gang wars.

The media and the Xiaoting Gang are adamant:

The Raft Qi was bombed by edge-walking mercenaries hired by the Black Gold Gang!

The municipal authorities have clamped down on Jingke Heavy Industry and the Raqi Group’s necks.

The Special Event Handling Action Team has fully deployed, and half of the city’s district is locked down, close to stepping up to wartime clearance levels.

Anyway, the situation is very tense right now.

The Eastern People and the Black brothers can’t appear on the same street together.

Both Bone Shards and Vito have ordered:

To halt all operations, and no gang vehicles are permitted to enter Eastern People’s territory before the next command comes in.

No one wants to invite trouble.

Corporations don’t want to be targeted by the city government.

Gangs don’t want to be wiped clean by the SAT.

The muscle men of the West District don’t want to give the Eastern People an excuse.

The high-ups at the clubs on Sakura Cross Street are wary of the weapons in Vito’s hands.

…

The whole city is at a standstill.

[Understand now? It’s not that I don’t want to help; it’s just impossible. Listen to me, get out of Sakura Cross Street as fast as you can!]

“Forget it if you won’t help, I wasn’t counting on you anyway.”

Gino was purely speaking in anger.

Jilead wasn’t angry either.

He asked a very important question on John’s behalf.

[You’re all mixed up, Gino, to what extent do you need to accomplish this so-called body collection to feel satisfied with yourself?]

Spend big bucks to give Kenaf Rope a decent funeral?

Best hire a priest too, pick a dimly lit club corner, set up photos from his life, some fake flowers?

Could it be you want to invite all those friends hiding in cyberspace, and get them up on stage one by one to say a few words?

[Will that satisfy you?]

Jilead asked leisurely.

Gino hesitated, on the verge of speaking.

John was hanging on the voice channel too, able to hear the conversation, but he remained silent throughout.

Gino had scrambled around for John’s life and death for a long time.

John was willing to reciprocate, to cushion her emotions.

But only Jilead, as an observer, managed to straighten out the chaotic mess.

[Your friend’s head’s blown off, does he still care about his body? Girl, there’s no need to fool yourself, to what extent will you feel at ease, or in other words, what do you need to complete to feel like you’re doing right by him?]

A slightly long silence.

Gino took a deep breath, sucking on her e-cigarette, her brow furrowed.

“…Fuck, I just think, the person’s already dead, can’t just be tossed away like trash, right? It’s best to have a place to put him, so later I, or someone… can have a specific point to find when we think of him.”

She calmed down.

[That’s right, listen to me. Find a nearby funeral home, call underground clinics and prosthetic doctors, and you’ll find a way, burn the body clean, and you don’t need to contact any bullshit company or institution. Drive yourself, take it to the city’s public cemetery, spend a bit for an electronic beacon and data message, done!]

“Damn, brother, well done!”

John couldn’t help but speak up, greeting Jilead from a distance, like they’d completed a marvelous alley-oop dunk.

That’s how things should be: set a specific goal and just do it!

After an entire night of chaos, Gino’s mind finally cleared.

Before hanging up, Jilead reminded John.

[Be safe, we don’t have to say that, your relations with the Eastern People aren’t that good either. Keep a low profile, don’t show your face; don’t let them scan your bio info. Remember, you’re there to do a job, not to show off in the news!]

Hum—

The Silver Rider 577 parked into the open lot by the coastline.

John carried the black bundle containing the body, having to tilt his head to its extreme to catch a glimpse of the sky squeezed between the skyscrapers.

The city was gray, with rain threatening at any moment.

There was a sourness in the air.

John and Gino dove into the alley, as if they were walking into the body of a steel beast through its pores.

Water dripped down in layers from on high.

The depths of the alley were also crawling with various neon sign advertisements, warm, acidic gases blowing out through ventilation pipes.

John and Gino moved forward, with John carrying the body.

This place was teeming with Eastern People and other shady edge walkers like them.

Pale geisha faces drew back their gazes, sexual implication-laden Super Sensing Chips displayed in vending machines.

From the manholes, a white smoke of unknown composition wafted.

John donned his windproof veil, took a few breaths, and felt the faces of those geishas distort further.

“Hey, we’re here.”

Gino brought his focus back to reality.

John regained his senses, standing in front of a red neon sign.

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