Location: Arasaka Academy, Corporate Plaza
Time: 6:00 p.m.
Another day of dull classes finally crawled to an end. As the bell rang, Lin Mo lazily removed his Braindance headband and slipped it into his pocket.
The bright classroom dimmed the moment the bell sounded, as if to remind the students:
Don't waste your time lingering here.
Your tuition only pays for lessons up to this hour.
Turning to the classmate beside him, Lin Mo yawned and asked in a languid tone,
"David, we heading over to Old Bug's place later?"
David gave a faint nod, his expression blank—utterly devoid of emotion, like a hitman who'd forgotten what feeling was.
Lin Mo just chuckled. He wasn't surprised.
It had already been a week since that night's operation, though the events of that mission had clearly left their mark on the boy.
After that night, David had changed.
He was no longer the reckless kid he'd been—his movements, his speech, even his gaze had grown steadier.
After all, during that final battle with Arasaka's security forces, despite being surrounded by skilled veterans eager to rack up kills, David knew exactly how many men he had personally gunned down.
The shock of taking a life for the first time—blood, screams, torn flesh—
Scenes that only exist on a battlefield.
It was enough to transform any rookie completely.
Even David was no exception.
The change became most obvious when that clown Katsuo—who used to mock him in class—tried it again one morning.
David shot him a single, icy glance, and Katsuo froze like a chick caught by the throat.
After class, David made sure the lesson stuck—with his fists.
From that day on, Katsuo learned a painful truth: there was no one left he could bully.
The tables had turned—David, once the butt of the joke, had become the one others feared.
It was a small victory, but it was his.
Still, old habits die hard.
Though the blood on his hands had sobered him a bit, Lin Mo could tell the psychological ripples of that night were already fading.
At least, to Lin Mo's eyes, David was still the same impulsive kid—and honestly, he was glad.
He didn't want his friend to become a cold-blooded killer overnight. That would make him feel unworthy of Gloria's trust.
The two left the classroom and made their way to the parking lot, where the familiar Caliburn sat waiting, gleaming as always.
The only difference this time—the driver was David.
That had been his request after the operation: he wanted to start learning how to handle vehicles himself.
Lin Mo certainly didn't object. One more chauffeur meant one less thing for him to worry about.
The Caliburn glided along the highway, the lights outside rippling across the windows like waves of neon reflected on dark water.
Taking advantage of the calm, Lin Mo asked casually,
"The cyberware Victor installed for you—any rejection symptoms yet?"
"Nope," David replied with a mild smile. "Uncle Vik's the best. He's got skill and he's a good man—way better than that greedy bug-eyed bastard. With him in charge, how could I have problems?"
Lin Mo nodded, saying nothing more.
David glanced at him. "Those implants you asked him to fit me with... I don't think the side effects are as bad as people say. Lin Mo, when do you think I can upgrade to better gear?"
"Heh. Not anytime soon," Lin Mo shot back bluntly. "You're not ready yet. Drop it. Even easygoing Jackie wouldn't say yes to that."
The implants he'd chosen for David were modest but effective:
Ballistic Co-Processor – lets the user track remaining ammo and calculate firing trajectories via neural link.
Kiroshi Optics – a must-have for any serious operator; light on system load.
Visual Cortex Support – enhances aim and target tracking.
Subdermal Armor (Localized Reinforcement) – protects vital areas.
Self-Defense Shock Discharger – a compact, Chinese-made implant that automatically releases a surge of electricity when the user takes damage, shocking nearby enemies.
Each piece had been carefully selected—small, practical, and safe.
For now, they were more than enough for a rookie like David.
Neither Lin Mo, nor Kitagawa, nor Jackie wanted the kid stuffing himself full of chrome too quickly.
Seeing his mentor's firm refusal, David sighed and dropped the subject.
The Caliburn sped smoothly toward Santo Domingo, passing the stretch of barren ground where it had all gone down that night.
Lin Mo looked out the window, his gaze settling on the litter-strewn field. A faint sigh escaped him.
The battle there had been brutal. Even with careful planning, Arasaka's security troops had been no joke.
Without Lin Mo stepping in, it had taken Maim and his crew considerable effort to clean up the field.
Forty-three dead, all wiped out on that patch of earth. Weapons, cyberware scraps, tech debris—practically a junkyard of loot.
Lin Mo, of course, hadn't let it go to waste. He had Maim and the others play scavengers, combing the battlefield for anything valuable.
And during the cleanup, there'd been one amusing moment—Lucy helping sort the wreckage with such effortless skill that the others couldn't help wondering:
Why the hell is she so good at picking through trash?
Once the loot was packed, Regina's people arrived to collect the research data and the six comatose cyberpsychos.
Afterward, Lin Mo had Pilar plant explosives, destroying every vehicle on-site — including the Behemoth — until not a trace of evidence remained.
Now, a week later, the wreckage was gone.
Whoever had come after must've stripped it for scrap long ago.
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