Chapter 93: Chapter 75: Angelica_2

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The elevator in Bolago’s underground garage opened.

Angelica walked out.

She had a wasp waist and a perky buttocks, with a champagne tattoo stretching from her spine to her waist, long legs wearing slacks paired with high boots.

John secured the weapon case on his back.

Angelica asked him to bring a sniper rifle, claiming it was for bird hunting, but judging by the three full magazine requirement…

The chances of this “bird” being able to talk were quite high.

The garage was colorful.

The neon lights from the entertainment district were flickering, graffiti projected on the walls constantly changing styles, and the VIP parking area had speakers embedded in the walls to enhance the echoes.

The rich clients from the West District would sway their bodies as they got into their vehicles, still feeling like they were immersed in the dance floor before the car doors closed.

At the moment, a new album by some live band was playing.

Angelica swayed to the rhythm.

“If you like listening to music, I have a brainwave version of a demo you can take back and enjoy alone.”

“Using a Super Sensing Chip to listen to music?”

“Seriously? Have you experienced brainwave entertainment… F*ck, look at your expression, I actually guessed right.”

Angelica walked backward, pointing her index fingers at John, brazenly laughing. “Tell me, John, what do you usually use to enjoy movies and music?”

“Subscribed radio stations, cached playlists, stuff like that.”

“Shit, AVI, MP3… What are these outdated storage formats, do you even watch Super Sensing Chips?”

Angelica brazenly inquired.

“Any preferred positions or fetishes, maybe I could recommend some good series, I’m also a business player here, I practically know all the black market brokers and freelance vendors in the mall.”

John felt speechless.

Angelica didn’t mind, she continued to explain.

The playback devices for Super Sensing Chips are constantly upgrading, having become the most basic form of entertainment.

It doesn’t just include visual and auditory elements but complete emotional and tactile information, allowing you to empathize with the videographer.

Imagine:

You’re standing in front of a dazzling stage, at the heart of a live concert filled with thousands of screaming fans, singing alongside your favorite superstars, rubbing shoulders with them, weaving between the bass and guitar players…

Surround sound bursting through your eardrums.

The stage trembles slightly.

Feeling the heat of the spotlight.

These experiences only require purchasing the corresponding chip, then selecting a premium player to lie on the couch and enjoy.

“I used to work in transportation for the company, and the habit of listening to the radio was left over from that time, you can’t expect me to watch movies in my head while holding the steering wheel, right?”

John strolled through the parking lot, hands in pockets.

Angelica nodded with a smile.

“What kind of music do you like?”

[Atmospheric Instrumental. (Optional)]

[Nostalgic Vocals. (Optional)]

[Grunge Rock. (Optional)]

John hesitated, then laughed and shook his head—it was unexpected that even asking preferences would bring up options.

“Road music, something nostalgic, at least tunes written by live humans, sung with real voices.”

John pursed his lips. “I don’t listen to much rock, and as for the singles produced by music companies with software… I’m not really interested. AI mass-produced stuff is all over the place, and my time is valuable, I don’t want to be a gold miner slowly sifting through it.”

“Alright then.”

Angelica appeared thoughtful.

Tipsy Bikini bar’s daily revenue was quite high, and she had her own private garage in VIP Area A.

The electric door opened wide.

“Holy Sh*t!”

John’s eyes gleamed along with the neon lights.

Standing at the entrance, holding a bag, he resembled an underclass repairman who had never set foot in high-end territory.

First, there was a Thunder Miles.

The iron shell operated by War Mother Aelon, which was the Beast MT450 model from this company, a semi-military style, emphasizing protective strength and high-tech systems.

The price of Angelica’s was also astronomical.

Thunder Miles – Jurassic ZT15.

A civilian sector ace, of course, you could modify it into military armor if you got your hands on it.

Its marketing slogan was simple:

Experience the thrill of driving an ancient beast, conquer extreme environments with pure horsepower!

“F*ck!”

John was a bit reluctant to leave.

Besides this big guy in the garage, there were also two extremely rare motorcycles on the market.

Detroit International’s racing bikes.

Italian Company’s handcrafted vehicles.

“You must be a millionaire, right?”

John scrutinized the girl before him once more. “Can the profits from running a bar really reach that level? F*ck, your stash in this basement could outright kill the mercenary industry…”

“Who doesn’t have some side business and hobbies?”

Angelica laughed as she brushed against the wall.

The lift and electromagnetic bio-lock were disengaged simultaneously, and the fuel hose automatically detached after filling, projecting the recent vehicle inspection report onto the wall.

“Do mercenaries earn so little? How long have you been in the game? Silver Rider 577 and RCH aren’t exactly cheap.”

“That’s all illegal profit,” John explained.

Angelica bared her teeth again. “These vehicles weren’t purchased through tax channels either.”

She straddled the motorcycle.

The racing bike tires produced by Detroit Company were quite thick, with a very narrow rear seat. Early models didn’t even consider tandem riding, the inward curves would make John’s posture awkward.

Angelica laughed leaning against the handlebars.

“Hahaha, put away your gun, John, we’re heading to a respectable place now.”

“Why do you always like to tease me?”

John silently held her waist, standing on the ground, dragged her to the rear seat, then circled back to straddle the driver’s seat.

Angelica slung on a gun bag.

She calmly embraced the rider, her cyber eye flickered, projecting coordinates directly into the navigation system.

Buzz—

The racing bike’s special engine started, the sound waves subtly adjusted through attachments, giving off a blood-pumping roar.

The vehicle shot out of the basement slope.

The shock absorption apparatus dismissed the drop as nonexistent.

Slowing down for a wide turn, then picking up speed in a straight line.

Various numbers projected onto the curved glass screen.

The touchpoints in John’s palms received information through the grips, the vehicle status appearing in the lower right corner of his vision.

They sped along the city, arriving at the edge of the West District.

This was already very close to the outer ring road.

Major corporations had built massive factories here.

Every building was constructed, renovated, and then finally blasted apart and left idle, leaving the surroundings in ruins.

It only took fifteen minutes to leave Eden City District through the highway and checkpoints.

The number of gunfights erupting due to smuggling was just as high as the company competitions occurring overtly and covertly.

Chimneys were riddled with bullet holes.

They relentlessly spewed pollutants.

[Eden City – West District Industrial Park (Old)]

Angelica’s coordinates led to an old mechanical processing plant.

It occupied a vast area, right on the city edge, even the dust storms from the suburbs could pile up on the factory grounds.

From the appearance, it was a cube.

The huge code and old logo were already peeling and faded.

Industrial wastewater ran down from the gaps in floors and the detached drainage outlets, drawing brown and black lines on the walls.

John parked the bike, glancing around.

He saw the busted open wire fence.

The air was filled with not only the dizzying exhaust fumes but also the scent of blood and burnt explosives.

The street surroundings and building surfaces were peppered with bullet craters.

“This place looks like a battlefield.”

John hoisted a bag onto his shoulder, approaching Angelica, guarding against a sudden appearance by a few waylaying junkies from the corners.

“Unless you’re mixing bullet shells into the stew, I can’t fathom what raw materials require sourcing from such a ghostly place.”

“Follow me.”

Angelica led him through the elevated structure.

Through the spacious unloading channel, they came to several elevators covered with surveillance cameras and hidden sentries.

She swiped her biometric info to open the cab.

John followed her all the way up, and the elevator door suddenly became transparent after passing ten floors.

Thus, he glimpsed inside the factory.

It was surprisingly well-lit, and under the care of machines were astonishing vegetable planting fields.

Real land!

According to Angelica’s explanation:

Many farmers on the city edge suddenly acquired farming skills—clearing abandoned wastelands, searching for less polluted and recoverable soil.

By dismantling waste, modifying equipment, they created a spray system that could collect and filter acid rain.

Within a few years after Eden City’s independence war, these people started secretly attempting to grow vegetables.

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