Chapter 60: Chapter 60: Collapsed at the Driver’s Seat

[Mission Objective Update]

[Kill the Electric Eel. (Not Achieved)]

John yanked the bolt of the gun.

The snake-scale-like pressure release valves spread to the sides, releasing a stream of high-temperature gas.

Even a smart sniper rifle requires the bolt to be operated, so the chip and trajectory have a slight calibration time. It’s possible to fire continuously, but the accuracy will suffer.

John was aiming for a headshot with this shot.

Unexpectedly, it just grazed the back of the Electric Eel’s head. The beast was still alive and jumping, who knows how many illegal implants it was loaded with.

It screamed crazily.

A swing directly broke the machine gun grip, smashing into the middle of Talia’s raised arm.

The forearm visibly bent.

Though the insulation coating was effective, Talia still felt one side of her body going numb from the electricity, accompanied by excruciating pain and a burning sensation.

She curled her body and fell from the machine gun seat.

The next second, the Electric Eel crawled into the cockpit, wildly hammering away, its arms bursting with brute force, tearing down the twisted metal of the guardrail.

It roared down at Talia.

Bang, bang bang.

“Eat your cock, monster!”

Talia pulled out her revolver and fired several shots, the situation was too urgent. The first two shots hit the Electric Eel’s body.

The last shot went into the Electric Eel’s eye socket and burst out from the side of its head.

The Electric Eel let out a hoarse roar of anger.

Its whole body erupted with blue electric light, like a web of arcs spreading out, dense tendrils piercing into the turret and the ground.

Sparks crackled everywhere.

The concrete floor was dotted with black spots.

Talia cursed continuously but sensibly decided it was best to run first. Her prosthetic body was alarming, while her exposed skin felt tingling and numb.

“Damn it!”

John couldn’t see anything.

His scope became a blur due to interference, forcing him to switch back to aiming with the naked eye, trying to find a target in the chaos; however…

The Electric Eel by the turret had vanished.

Buzzing~

John heard the sound of electrical disturbances; his prosthetic eye refocused, all his implants were issuing warnings…

Metallic material heated within an abnormal magnetic field.

Messiah’s prosthetic body was resisting physical limits.

Instinctively, he sidestepped and saw:

The Electric Eel had already raced from the staircase entrance to right in front of him, leaping and swinging an iron bar at him.

Bang—

John raised his weapon to block, instantly feeling his arm go numb from pain, followed by shortness of breath.

His entire body left the ground.

As he fell from the platform, his gun barrel lined up with the Electric Eel ahead. Its charred face grew larger in John’s field of view.

John strained to pull the trigger—the bullet pierced through the Electric Eel’s bulletproof vest, the bullet head lodged between the subcutaneous armor and flesh, bone fragments mixed with blood froth splattered from both ends of the wound.

He and the Electric Eel plummeted straight down to opposite sides.

A fall of more than four meters.

Unprotected, taking heavy blows while falling.

“Cough, wheeze, wheeze.”

John landed on a corpse.

It was probably the Exile he had slit the throat of when climbing the stairs to open the door.

Disregarding his obstructed breathing, he hurriedly pulled out a high-grade healing potion to alleviate the pain throughout his body.

The snake shedding had become slightly deformed.

The close-range shot earlier was already the limit for this smart sniper rifle. With his prosthetic eye connected to the weapon system, everything was flashing red warnings; continuing to use it forcibly could risk a barrel burst.

The team channel was filled with exclamations.

John’s eardrums ached terribly.

He exited the channel, circling to the front of the transport station, following the densest gunfire area.

The Electric Eel was still fucking rampaging!

Talia and the remaining camp members were mortal enemies of the Exile. Having survived in the wasteland for so long, often facing dangerous prosthetic bodies, they all had the experience of hunting cyberpsychos.

They formed a crossfire formation.

The Electric Eel was being pulled, relying on the Sianweistan prosthetic body to blink continuously like a large lightning orb, capable of teleporting long distances each time.

It lunged at faces, the high-intensity alloy prosthetic limb swinging out an electrified stick.

The reaction time was extremely short.

Even a glancing blow resulted in broken bones.

A slight distraction leading to direct hits, the insulating coating would directly explode, causing the prosthetic body to overload due to electricity, or it would be knocked down by its stick.

The gunfire never stopped.

But people in the camp continued to fall.

John and Talia were very tenacious, bearing the primary output and critical cover; the two electromagnetic rifles made the Electric Eel spark incessantly.

Its movements grew increasingly sluggish.

John primarily relied on having enough potions to barely maintain, various hormones acting in his body, suppressing pain and injuries to keep him conscious.

Talia purely trusted the hardness of her subcutaneous armor.

She had temporary insulation protection on the surface, with built-in implants having electric resistance.

The Electric Eel suddenly blinked right in front of John.

“Fu…”

John gritted his teeth and lifted his gun to withstand a stick swing.

[Scope [Damaged]]

He couldn’t care about the fleeting weapon alert, using the gun as a shield to counteract the opposing force, swinging the gun stock into the Electric Eel’s face.

“Die, you!”

An electric arc burst forth.

Sparks fell on John’s body, leaving burn marks near the data slots on his arm and neck.

The Electric Eel staggered and retreated two steps.

This guy has been soaked in electricity for a long time, with no good skin left on his body; the synthetic leather is scorched and stuck to his flesh.

The tactical goggles, forcefully hit by John, are now comically sunken into the depths of his skull.

His voice is hoarse, letting out strange noises as he swings the stick in his hand incessantly.

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

The Electric Eel’s prosthetic eye seems fried.

He starts teleporting aimlessly, his operating system already on the brink of collapse is now overloaded.

Boom!

A loud explosion is heard as flames rise fiercely from Electric Eel’s body.

“John!”

Talia loudly warns him to dodge.

Then this Russian girl, using her broken arm to support a machine gun she picked up, aims fiercely at the center of the flames.

“Screw yourself, you scumbag.”

She wishes she could shove the gun barrel into Electric Eel’s mouth until that corpse falls heavily, and the flickering electric arcs gradually extinguish…

Click, click, click.

The magazine is emptied.

John waves away the smoke and approaches the charred, smelly corpse.

Apart from Talia’s heavy breathing and the pain-filled groans around, only the sizzling sound of evaporating grease remains.

Electric Eel’s death was far from peaceful.

Ironfoot Kelp conducted inhumane experiments on him, and all his prosthetic bodies overloaded and were scrapped.

In his current ghastly state, even a Ghoul would exclaim…

Impressive, what a shame.

[Retrieve the spoils. (Not Achieved)]

Talia pulls up her injured companion.

Those who can still move don’t have time to rest, all climb up and head to the depths of the warehouse.

The intelligence was very accurate.

The Exiles had already packed up everything, all stuffed into a gigantic black transport truck.

No time for on-site plunder.

The number of drivers dwindled sharply, and injuries had to be distributed among the available vehicles, further stretching the resources thin.

This type of truck is military, with a heap of buttons and systems besides the steering wheel.

John became the most suitable driver, forced to climb into the driver’s seat, carrying Talia with her injured arm, to stamp on the gas pedal, knocking away the remaining half of the iron fence and zooming off.

Camp members return to their respective vehicles.

They flee on the dust-filled wasteland, just departing the factory gathering place, when two rows of armored cars emerge from an abandoned farm in the distance.

Heavy machine guns atop aim fiercely at them.

[Eliminate the pursuers. (Not Achieved)]

[Escape pursuit. (Not Achieved)]

“A bunch of fucking dogs, biting and not letting go, huh? I’m gonna smash your teeth…”

Talia adjusts her weapon in the passenger seat.

John, however, can’t hear clearly.

His clothes are drenched in sweat, his spine aching, and chillingly cold, with multiple fractures and internal bleeding; the act of breathing feels like sipping boiling water, only manageable in small sips.

“John, John! Now’s not the damn time to collapse and sleep, you’ve still got the steering wheel in your hand.”

John slightly regains clarity.

He notices the whole vehicle is wobbling, the load making the wheels slightly off the ground, constantly at risk of tipping over.

The companions escorting him on either side are forced off the main road, driving into the sand while entangled with the Exiles.

Just as he steadies the car body, his vision begins to blur again.

“My meds… Give me a shot, quick.”

John’s forelimbs weigh heavily on the steering wheel, and as he lowers his head, he glimpses:

Two of his fingers are broken, including the prosthetic limb with its electrical grip disconnected, the connection of the alloy skeleton to his nerves needing adjustment.

“Uh, ah!”

John suddenly raises his neck.

“Whew, whew, holy shit!”

He doesn’t know when Talia snatched the potion, only feeling a slight sting near his neck, followed by numbness on his scalp, and changing lights.

“Whew, I feel a lot better.”

John sees the road conditions clearly.

He stomps the accelerator to the floor.

But deep down, fear arises: his injuries are particularly severe, unable to be fooled by emergency medication anymore.

His consciousness gradually becomes chaotic, and everything happening around him fragments into discontinuous scenes.

Talia was still holding the syringe just now.

Next second she’s already lifted a machine gun out the window.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Don’t sleep, just keep driving forward!”

“F—ck—off—sucker!”

…

Explosions occur continuously on the road.

Bullets strike against the glass.

Dangerous scenes appear in John’s vision one after another, every time waking up he’s teetering on the edge of overturning and crashing.

He dodges obstacles one after another by instinct, maneuvering the cumbersome box-shaped truck to ram desert armored cars…

Debris falls at his feet.

Someone takes over the steering wheel.

Talia carries him out of the driver’s seat, spitting blood all over the ground as the scarf is ripped off.

The sky is gray.

Noise.

Nando appears with a gun on his face.

“Damn it, he’s about to check out!”

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