Jacks's electronic eye didn't flicker.
"This is a black market clinic. Not an undercity brothel. We don't accept 'neural-sensory payment.'"
His mechanical vocal cords ground out the words like alloy scraping alloy.
"I only want your right eye's optical sensor. Later, when you scavenge enough high-grade parts from the scrap heaps, you can buy it back."
The girl's staticky eyes flashed blue-screen warnings. Desperate. Distorted whimper escaped her throat.
"O-okay... Waaah! My hardware specs are getting downgraded!"
---
*Few minutes later.*
**[System Notification: You have obtained rare-grade hardware — Bloody Lolita's Right Eye Optical Sensor x1.]**
**[Hardware Parameters: Bloody Lolita's Right Eye — Implantation unlocks special protocol "Devouring Stomach Sac." Body energy conversion rate +10%. Side Effect: Prone to abnormal hunger pangs.]**
**[System Notification: Contract complete. Reward: Credits x50 | Black Market Surgery Experience +50.]**
**[Special Reward: Bloody Lolita Fear Level +30 | Imitation Doll Fear Level +50 (Indelible shadow code implanted in core logic).]**
---
Jacks washed his mechanical hands in a basin of industrial cleaner. The smell burned. He didn't react.
He picked up the eyeball sensor—neural cables still dangling—and dropped it into a glass jar filled with pale blue preservation fluid. Grabbed a mechanical pen. Wrote a serial number on a label. Stuck it to the jar.
Then he turned.
The girl stood there, one hand clamped over her empty right socket. Coolant leaked through her fingers. Streaming down her cheek.
Jacks gave a slight bow. Professional. Precise.
"Welcome back anytime. Iron Saw Prosthetic Clinic. Always providing the most direct physical upgrade services."
The girl hugged her repaired doll with a ( x﹏╥)o face. Stumbled through the heavy blast door like she'd just escaped a horror movie.
Through the acid rain mist, Jacks caught her fading electronic static:
"I'm going... to find Host Mother... never coming here again... sob... format black market shop..."
**[System Prompt: Hidden High-Risk Protocol Triggered — Search for the Lost Matriarch.]**
**[Mission Objective: Help Bloody Lolita find her missing 'Host Mother'.]**
**[Mission Reward: Bloody Lolita Favorability +200 | Android Doll Favorability +100 | Mysterious Enterprise-Grade Chip x1.]**
**[Current Code Parsing Progress: 2%]**
---
Jacks's electronic eye flickered.
He stood at the entrance. Gazed into the pitch-black wasteland swallowed by neon light pollution. The girl's figure was already gone. Even infrared couldn't find her.
*2%?*
He withdrew his gaze. Looked down at the stainless steel tray on the operating table.
Inside: the residue from the girl's 'Shredder Stomach Pouch.'
[Synthetic Hair of Unknown Model x50]
[Silicone Ears of Unidentified Android x2]
[Rusty Multi-Function Comb x1]
Jacks: "..."
His logical algorithm ran the numbers. Combined with her extreme hunger during cyberpsychosis. The conclusion was obvious. And utterly inhuman.
*The waste recycling mechanism in the lower districts is truly primitive to the point of nausea.*
He snorted coldly. Rinsed the biological components. Sealed them in an evidence bag. Tossed it into a password-locked storage locker. Leverage. For when she came back.
Then he pulled up his system panel.
The contract reward had landed. [Black Market Surgery] gained 50 XP. His private offline account gained 50 credits.
The 20 credits the girl paid? Clinic account. Boss Rex's money. Jacks wouldn't touch that if you paid him. Not unless he wanted to become the clinic's next consumable.
So his personal assets? Totally his own?
**150 credits.**
Credits were the only universal equivalent in this cyberpunk abyss. Upper districts. Lower districts. Corporate networks. Everyone took credits.
But in two years since Rex dragged him back, Jacks had never once stepped past the signal amplifier at the clinic's door.
He just hadn't had the chance to spend.
But in the black market? Preparation was the only truth. Computing power determined life and death. Credits bought computing power.
---
Time crawled. Neon tubes flickered. High-frequency currents hummed.
Jacks closed his only organic eye. His electronic eye dropped to low-power sleep mode. He sat in the high-backed chair behind the console. Right hand wrapped around the vibration blade's handle.
A metal statue. No vital signs.
Outside, the signal amplifier's red light pulsed. A protocol rule of the lower districts: *This is private territory. Advanced firewalls. Physical defense systems. Any malicious intrusion faces limitless retaliation.*
Most rogue wandering spirits? Driven by program errors? They didn't choose head-on confrontation when the amplifier was at full power.
Inside the electromagnetic field, the defender could fry any invading AI or cyborg with high-power microwave pulses. Turn them into scrap metal. Instantly.
But there were always exceptions.
Some frenzied modified beings had severed their pain nerves. Violence coded into their underlying logic. They didn't care about protocols.
For them? One rule only: *Whoever has more firepower wins.*
---
*Boom. Boom. BOOM.*
The heavy blast door shuddered. The whole clinic's metal walls vibrated.
Jacks's eyes snapped open. Red light locked onto the door.
A piercing hydraulic hiss. The door slammed open.
A giant stormed in. Over two meters tall. Built like a heavy armored vehicle. His head was implanted with an ugly wild boar gene module—half-flesh, half-metal pig face.
One eye socket was charred black. Hollow. Optical cable violently torn out. Blue sparks still sizzled. Black blood dripped.
He wore a custom leather apron. Soaked in fresh machine oil. Crimson blood. In his right hand? A massive high-frequency cleaver. Still dripping. Bone fragments. Flesh. Freshly used.
Jacks's retina flashed red.
**[Target Confirmed: Iron Pig (Iron-Hog)]**
**[Level: 21]**
**[Race: Severely Illegal Bio-Mechanical Augment (Thug Class)]**
**[Alignment: Lawful Evil (Chrome-Tusk Gang Executioner)]**
**[Threat Rating: EXTREMELY HIGH. Compliance advised unless you want to be disassembled and sold for parts.]**
**[Profile: Notorious supplier in the meat and cybernetics black market, Lower District 99. Your extremely 'nuclear-friendly' neighbor. He loves sharing freshly dismembered prey. Or making you the prey.]**
---
**[System Alert: Intense physical pressure detected. Jacks' Sanity -5]**
---
"WHAT A FUCKING PIECE OF BAD LUCK!"
Iron Pig's electronic roar was deafening. He stomped in cursing, one massive metal hand caked in meat scraps covering his smoking eye socket.
"All because I couldn't find any valuable industrial scrap for that damn scavenger hag?! That bitch actually hacked my firewall! Yanked out my Mark-V Optical Sensor! Next time I upgrade my armor, I swear—I'll chop her into mincemeat with a chainsaw!! Pah!"
He spat. A mouthful of highly corrosive machine oil phlegm hit the metal floor. Sizzling. Hissing. Eating through the surface.
**[System Alert: Iron Pig's High-Risk Protocol triggered — Match and install suitable high-grade sensor for damaged eye socket.]**
**[Quest Reward: Credits x50 | Advanced Black Market Surgery Experience +50 | Iron Pig Favorability +20 | Special Modification Part +1]**
---
"Come in."
Jacks's voice didn't waver. Not a single hertz. He stayed seated behind the console. Only his mechanical fingers, hidden in shadow, had silently pushed the vibration blade's power to max.
Iron Pig advanced. Heavy steps. A moving metal hill.
Outside, the signal booster's red light flickered violently. Whirring under intense electromagnetic interference.
The smell hit. Decomposed meat. Rusted metal. Low-grade lubricant. A toxic mix that triggered physiological rejection. Jacks's respiratory system wanted to reboot.
Iron Pig slammed down onto the superalloy chair in front of the counter. The seat groaned. In agony.
His single remaining pig eye—fierce red light—fixed on Jacks. Swept across the empty clinic. Then he roared:
"Where's that old lunatic Rex?! Tell him to get his ass out here! I need a top-tier military-grade sensor! I got primo goods—just stripped off some corpo-dog from the upper levels! Trade!"
Jacks met that murderous gaze. Unflinching. Hands crossed on the console. Tone flat as dead water:
"Boss is up top collecting a debt. Your interface isn't completely fried yet. Whatever you need, you tell me."
Iron Pig paused.
That massive pig head slowly turned back. His single eye narrowed. Dangerous. Electronic pupil frantically focused. Scanned Jacks's pale, gaunt frame. Like appraising a slab of low-grade synth-meat about to go into a slicer.
"Oh...?"
A low rumble. Engine-like. Strange laughter from his throat.
**[Warning: Lethal Hostility Detected! Threat Level Spiked to 89%!]**
---
Jacks's heart rate got forcibly taken over by some cold algorithm. But outwardly? Corpse-like composure.
Not bravado. Pure logical deduction.
If he'd lied. Said Rex was in the back repair bay. Iron Pig would scan. Thermal imaging. Radar. Detect the lie. And that high-frequency cleaver would split Jacks in two. Instantly.
But this? Unflinching honesty? It created logical conflict in paranoid cyber-psycho motherboards. Made them wary.
"What model sensor you need?"
Jacks turned slowly. No threatening movements. Raised his mechanical arm. Pointed to the display wall behind him. Filled with electronic and bio-eyes suspended in nutrient fluid.
"We got bionic eyes. Military-grade thermal imaging pig eyes. Night-vision necro-eyes. High-frequency bat eyes. Even Bloody Lolita's signature psychic-attack eyes. Pick your interface protocol. Different refresh rates. Different resolutions. Different prices."
Iron Pig didn't look at the wall.
He bent down. His massive shadow swallowed Jacks whole. Fierce light erupted in his eye. He grinned. Alloy fangs smeared with minced meat and bloody threads. Toxic breath blasted directly into Jacks's face.
"I just ran a scan..."
Iron Pig extended a long, barb-covered gray mechanical tongue. Licked his chapped lips. Perverse.
"I think... that electronic eye in your socket looks to be exceptional quality. High refresh rate. Infrared penetration. An absolute gem."
**[System Alert: Extreme Mental Contamination! Jacks' Sanity -10!]**
**[Alert: Host Body Facing Destructive Strike! Danger Level Spiked to 91%!]**
---
Jacks knew the black market. Bargaining was a test of nerve. If his expression faltered for even a microsecond? If his pupils trembled with the slightest hint of fear? Iron Pig's cleaver would chop off his head. And personally dig out that eye.
"You want mine?"
Jacks slowly turned his head. His electronic eye glowed red. Gazed calmly, without a ripple, into Iron Pig's single eye brimming with violent cruelty.
Then.
Right under that intense, murderous stare—ready to shred everything in sight.
Jacks slowly raised his cold mechanical right hand.
He didn't reach for the weapon on the table.
Instead, right in front of Iron Pig, he brutally drove three sharp titanium alloy fingers directly, deeply into his own right eye socket!
*Click! — Tear!*
A horrifying mechanical snap. Nerve fibers tearing. Being forcibly severed.
Blood mixed with blue coolant instantly streamed wildly down Jacks's pale cheek.
His expression showed not a trace of pain. As if it weren't his own organ at all. Like disassembling a part from a broken radio. He wrenched his own high-end bionic eyeball—still connected to the optic nerve—completely out of its socket!
*Zzzt — Zzzt —!*
**[System Issues HIGHEST-LEVEL RED ALERT: Host Vital Signs Compromised! Pain Suppression Module Forcibly Activated!]**
**[System Issues HIGHEST-LEVEL RED ALERT: Host Core Optical Hardware Missing! LOGIC ERROR!]**
---
A few seconds passed.
Deathly silence. The entire clinic.
Jacks faced Iron Pig. His right socket now just a black hole. Severed cables dangling. Then he slowly opened his palm. Offered the still-dripping, red-light-flashing bionic eyeball right under Iron Pig's enormous snout.
**[System Alert: Detected EXTREMELY ABNORMAL SELF-DESTRUCTIVE BEHAVIOR! Severe logical conflict in Iron Pig's central processor! Sanity -20!]**
Jacks's face was expressionless. His voice didn't tremble. Not one bit.
"This sensor costs two thousand credits. If it throws an error after plugging it in. Or causes your motherboard to fry."
*Pause.*
"No refunds."
Iron Pig was completely stunned.
The high-frequency cleaver in his grip trembled slightly.
His simple, brutal killing logic had never simulated this scenario. He couldn't comprehend how this seemingly fragile, bottom-tier human apprentice—someone he could smash into scrap with one punch—could possess such terrifying self-destructive tendencies?!
Right in front of an enemy. Plucking out his own core hardware. Without flinching?!
When that old scavenger woman in the Scrap Zone ripped out *his* eye, he, Iron Pig, had howled in pain for a full ten minutes. Nearly burned out his cooling system.
And this kid... still maintained this dead-calm composure?!
*This guy isn't human... This is definitely a perverted monster wearing human skin!!*
**[System Alert: Threat neutralized. Iron Pig's will to fight has been completely shattered. Crisis level plummeted to 50%!]**