The black motorbike darted through the shadows of the city buildings, advertisements and engines compressed into distorted noise by the fierce wind.

[Mission Objective Updated]

[Proceed to the criminal hideout. (Not achieved)]

This wasn't the only way to solve the vehicle issue, but the collaboration with Barry had prompted new mission information.

If John didn't accept the task, there were other methods still.

The contact list scrolled past Barry, revealing several backup options.

For instance, Jilead and the Black Gold Gang's chop shop.

Or Raphael and the Kaufoglandon Auto Sales Center.

If all else fails, head to Damascus Camp and let Screwdriver arrange something.

They surely have idle vehicles; it should be no problem to find an understated, durable vehicle without distinctive paint for delivery based on connections.

The few options mainly differed in vehicles and payment methods.

John didn't think much about which was the best choice.

He pushed aside his thoughts and focused on the mission.

The motorbike cruised at a steady speed, the glaring sun obscured by skyscrapers just five or six minutes earlier, and by raising his gaze along the street, light zones cut by the sun could be seen on the surrounding glass facades.

The iconic super skyscrapers came into view.

Upon entering, John felt a stinging sensation in his nose, as if the mucous membranes were scorched by some irritant gas, followed by overall discomfort, an itchy throat, and even a shooting pain extending to his brain nerves.

He pulled up his windproof scarf, lifted his head.

This skyscraper was a multilayered factory, with another one of equal scale located in the outskirts of the East District.

Being an industrial building, it lacked glass facades or cloud-reaching holographic advertisements, only suffocatingly high gray walls.

It obscured most of the view, retaining the dark tone of construction materials, devoid of embellishments and creative contours, with only a few alphanumeric identifiers.

Stains dripped along the grooves and vents.

[Eden City - Palmer Avenue]

This was a dead-end street in the city's planning, where commercial zones were transformed into industrial-dense areas, a literal slum.

Wires and pipes clung like proliferative tissues to the bases of skyscrapers, elevated bridges and intercity train tracks pierced the sky, with smog and dust evenly cloaking the view, trending towards settling down...

John crossed streets filled with gunpowder smoke and shell casings.

He rode the black motorbike past large areas of graffiti and buildings stripped down to rusting metal.

Surrounding him were fierce desperados and stateless refugees with nowhere to land.

Though the high-end motorbike drew some attention, it wasn't overly focused on.

The staple of Palmer was thick muscle-bound figures and combat prosthetic bodies from unknown origins.

Being near high-end vehicles wasn't unusual, as they were likely stolen goods needing urgent dispatch to chop shops or containers.

In the Palmer Avenue tin houses and dense warehousing-apartments, the presence of ordinary civilians was minimal, with a concentration of car thieves and escorted arrivals.

They lived in the most dangerous world, having touched luxury cars and bombshells, smoked limited-edition cigars, and smuggled weapons and explosives...

Everyone had seen the world.

Alloy RCH wasn't anything remarkable.

John looked up at the buildings indicated by the coordinates.

A complex built with red metal panels and cement, once a factory, likely divided internally into numerous crude apartments, with limited open spaces for communal areas.

Windows were either damaged or obscured by grime, with some clothes hanging in the chemically polluted air.

There were at least ten garages under just this dilapidated building.

They were rented out for days to anyone.

Customization enthusiasts might use them for storage, but mostly they were temporarily used by criminals to stash stolen goods.

John coasted the bike closer to the alley, spotting more fierce and bizarre individuals.

Metal shutters and prominent auction advertisements were pasted around.

Overdue unpaid warehouses here would be put on auction, Palmer Avenue's most famed form of gambling.

John parked his motorbike close to the target building, carrying all the equipment with him.

[Weapon: Nova (Kinetic Energy Rifle)]

[Weapon: Raft-Vaptive Runner]

[Weapon: Raft-Silence]

John finished his inspections hidden in the building's shadow, adjusted the fit of his work jacket, and stealthily ascended the steel stairs, navigating through the corridors piled with various materials.

He attempted to find internal surveillance but discovered Palmer Avenue's intricate network of building materials and extensions had scarcely any cameras.

"Phew~ alright, makes sense."

John busied himself for over half an hour, still unable to pinpoint the car thieves' exact residence.

He leaned against a rusty railing, his gaze wandering through the dense architecture.

Behind him, tenants frequently entered and exited, lingering.

Several workers chewed on something, trying to hook him with suggestive glances.

"Lost? I know a place."

They needed transitional work until they found a new spot in Eden City or secured their position on the street.

These girls' faces bore no excessive surgical traces, and no faceplates were embedded, with natural waists and hips exuding primal physical allure, athletic bodies paired with healthy skin tones, their words and looks full of character…

Indeed, a premium choice for Eden City's hedonists looking for a change.

But John wasn't in the mood.

Perhaps because he frequently turned down several girls, a Czech man with slicked-back hair, exposing a smooth chest, approached John.

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