The night was deep, and the daylight had not yet broken.
The neon chaos of Eden City was in a sensitive and fragile time.
The roar of engines had vanished, the sound of gunfire diminished.
The most exciting radio shows had ended, familiar and unfamiliar faces seemed to have all drifted away from him...
Everyone curled up in a corner of the steel city.
The world and time were their own.
Until the sky gradually turned gray, the dawn seemed to steal away one's most peaceful times, uncovering the night wanderers' protection.
Good morning, Eden City...
The car radio came on, the male host fervently impassioned, supposedly required by the station to take drugs before officially starting their shift.
The Black Spider ended its nighttime standby state.
Its indicator lights turned on, all curled mechanical appendages extended, then climbed to the top of the metal scrap heap to find the sun and start a day of treasure hunting.
John held out in the car all night.
He drove back to the Black Engine Restaurant for a meal, devouring the overcooked meat sauce spaghetti.
Genius came over with a beer, and sneered, "You look just as terrible as your eating habits."
"Phew~"
John swallowed hard. "Propping your feet up on the dashboard to sleep is the dumbest idea, sports cars are not fit for that position, I felt numb for over twenty minutes."
"Saw your legs off and replace them; alloys don't have that problem, nor will they give you a chance to show off your ride."
Genius raised a middle finger expressionlessly and said seriously.
"Last night, two acquaintances from real estate came by the restaurant, I saved their numbers. If needed, you can get in touch, mention my name for a discount."
"Got it, thank you."
"Find a good place to sleep, free up the lounge, your occupying the bed means I can't hire female servers, the night shift's killing me!"
"I sleep during the day, you hiring won't affect me."
"Women from Oil Barrel Street will break your dick."
Genius cursed under his breath.
John escaped into the shower for a wash.
He turned the news volume up on the electronic screen, hoping to hear about last night's cyberpsycho report.
Perhaps he missed the morning peak, as the host coldly broadcast the latest news on urban development...
Frequent violence events in nearby neighborhoods, with many new residents moving into Oil Barrel Street, escapees from the southern city also seeking work opportunities.
John could feel it too.
The foot traffic at the Black Engine Restaurant increased, definitely needing extra hands.
Genius was a kind-hearted big guy.
When John was at the end of his rope, he received Genius's help, only washing two dishes initially, never being asked for any further payment, often getting free drinks instead.
"I can't trouble Genius anymore."
He resolved to find a place to rent once this commission was completed.
John washed up and drove the Silver Rider out of the city.
He had promised to meet Alonna last night for a commission, but Ryan the doctor's request interrupted it.
Double book appointments were tiring.
But there was no way; Lone Wolves in Eden City had to work harder, startups need jobs first before gaining credibility and eligibility to be selective.
John sped up on the suburban highway.
Outside the window suddenly opened up, street scenes changed from skyscrapers to rocks and wild grass, drought-resistant plants akin to cacti scattered like grave mounds everywhere.
The Silver Rider's windshield hadn't been repaired yet.
The hot wind, laden with debris, whooshed past his ears.
The radio tuned to a nostalgic channel, the hoarse voice of an old cowboy came out, with guitar and trumpet creating a melancholy atmosphere, that which could never be enjoyed among the skyscrapers of Eden City—
The healing solitude of men, sports cars, and intercontinental highways.
[Eden City - Damascus Camp]
John had sent Alonna a message in advance.
Just as the Silver Rider approached the outskirts of the camp, he encountered a blockade line, the sentry on the rock gave a passing gesture from afar, the barricade was moved aside, and camp members came over to tap the hood and pointed in a direction.
John parked in a public berth.
All that met his eyes were monotonous colors, as long as the sky remained bright, it all seemed like dusk.
John lit a cigarette, sitting on the hood, observing everything, able to see a vast area of signal receivers, mobile power sources, and even...
Military-grade armored vehicles.
The core members of the camp dressed like Western ranch owners.
Those with the oldest qualifications had lost everything in the land wars, still keeping the wide-brimmed cowboy hats and gun holster attire.
Checked shirts worn open, revealing muscles.
Sleeves rolled up, mechanical prosthetics with heat dissipation stripes exposed, termed as macho fashion.
The camp was always on the move.
Transitioning between cities, seeking development and work opportunities, every car had a professional modification and legendary owner.
Box trucks with the head removed rested on supports.
Tents nailed and pulled up became cozy little homes, campfires and abandoned car frames forming gathering points.
Crates and miscellaneous items could be seen everywhere.
Seemingly chaotic, yet all in order.
"Hey, John, welcome."
A muscular powerhouse approached the sports car.
John's gaze turned, instinctively activating the scanner.
[Name: Nando Brahimi]
[Faction: Damascus Camp (Leader)]
Nando bit down on a cigar, lightly punched his shoulder with a fist, "Been waiting a while, sorry, my friend, the camp's mouths to feed are growing, I'm overwhelmed."
[Scan: Heavy subcutaneous armor, blood pump]
[Bounty: Public hazard]
[File: Nortonian, widowed, 172 violence records, established family in '75 gang war, split the next year, leading Damascus Camp, unlike other rover groups, he rejected smuggling and drug business, hoping to find other means of survival...]
"Equipped with quite a bit, huh?"
Nando could see John was scanning, pupils still flickering, but he didn't mind, rather watching with keen interest.
"New gun, new arm, new eyeball... Oh, wait, is that the Eisenberg Silver Rider? How did it end up such a wreck."
"I'm a pragmatist."
John shrugged and asked, "Alonna didn't say much, just 'come,' what exactly is the job?"
"Uh-huh, anxious, not bad."
Nando took a deep draw on his cigar. "Tomorrow morning, we are scheduled to receive supplies outside the city, crucial to the camp."
"Trading outside the city? Sounds risky."
"That's right, plus gang members are threatening to cause trouble, we'll be armed with guns and bullets."
"Grudges?"
"A bit, will discuss in detail later... If it turns into a skirmish in the wilderness, a high-speed chase is unavoidable, and the camp's drivers are frequently injured, those left have gone to take up arms."
Nando handed over a cigar box. "Driver positions open, so Alonna mentioned your name."
John declined the cigar.
Nando was generous with payment, straightforward—explaining potential risks before work, already making him a very conscientious employer.
"I have no objections, driving is my living."
John agreed readily, yet he wasn't naive. "As long as we agree on the reward in advance, I'm willing to take this run."
"Money's fine, but I have a better offer."
Nando pushed John out of the car, lifted the Silver Rider's hood, arms folded stood in front inspecting carefully.
"Hohoho, what a hot little number."
He bit down on his teeth, shook his head in amazement, looked up at John and said,
"The camp is the best garage. Ever heard of that? If you're willing, we can fully upgrade your ride."
[Mission: Wildfire]
[Reward: Vehicle modification (variable)]