Cyberpunk: Cross-dimensional Science and Engineering

Glass shards burst forth, lacerating Ellicon's face as a small fissure opened in the heating pipe from the minor explosion.

The rush of hot gas blasted Ellicon's face, scorching his eyes shut and searing half of his face.

"Damn... this is messed up..."

By the time he remembered to check on Rigordo, he saw that he had already fallen to the ground.

The shot must have affected his accuracy, but it still wasn't so far off; it hit Rigordo squarely in the thigh, blood pouring out.

"Ah— you little bastard..." Rigordo pressed against the wound on the ground, in both disappointment and pain.

"You brought this upon yourself..." Ellicon looked at Rigordo rolling on the ground and reloaded once more.

However, he couldn't bring himself to fire that last shot for a long time—he suddenly remembered the good stuff the gang had given him.

It was a few blue pills; the boss had patted his shoulder while giving them to him, speaking earnestly:

"This job is tough to a certain extent, if you feel like you can't go on, take some of this. We call these 'Courage Pills,' they're damn expensive.

Oh, yeah, take them one by one, no one of us brothers has ever experienced them all at once."

Without any hesitation, Ellicon shoved the pills into his mouth and instantly felt the world spinning around him.

He saw naked beauties surrounding him, he saw gangsters bowing before him, he saw an endless supply of booze.

He saw stacks of blue "courage" piled in front of him, and he had a scoop in his hand, intended for serving ice cream, though he didn't know why he would need that.

He picked a pill with the scoop, and just as he was about to put it in his mouth, he suddenly heard Rigordo's voice.

"Dad?" Ellicon slurred, "I'm so happy to see you—you're such a coward, have some courage to perk you up..."

Bang!

Ellicon passed a pill to Rigordo, then handed one to himself.

He just didn't understand why his old man made such a big fuss when swallowing the pill.

"That's good, Dad, that's really good. You should have tried some courage sooner..."

Bang!

....

The charade came to an end in the afternoon.

The NYPD finally had a breakthrough in the case of the landlord killed by a toothpick—the surveillance captured the perpetrator, Target Eye, committing the crime in the street.

Since Target Eye was a professional criminal, he had been caught many times, which also implied he had been involved in many unsolved cases, now providing new leads for those.

All thanks to Lille's surveillance, because without it, no one would have been able to identify Target Eye after being run over by the dump truck.

The street murder was eventually classified as organized crime within the NYPD, and while Kingpin's name might not have been discovered yet, people knew there had to be someone like him.

Ironically, the fearsome toothpick murderer who had the audacity to hunt down a lawful citizen on the street, met his end by charging through a red light and being struck by the United Construction Company's dump truck.

The only ones held responsible were the overloaded and speeding dump truck from that day, and the United Construction Company behind it.

"... that same night the NYPD found several other bodies in different locations—these were real gang members.

Car thieves, electricity thieves... all petty criminals with records, it seems they were dealt with internally by the gang—do you have any clues?"

Matt read through the summary with a relaxed demeanor—he too was hurt, but only wrapped in some bandages.

Not like Lille, hooked up to all the life support devices and breathing oxygen.

"Well... I guess someone got them to cut the surveillance power line, and after they did the deed, they found out it was useless."

Lille answered Matt's question—the backup power supply for the surveillance had been a new installment by him.

The gang's tech guys were amateurs, never considering such a possibility.

"Then I must say, as a security consulting firm, Bloom Company really started making a name for themselves. I guess you'll be moving out soon."

"Cough cough!"

In another bed within the hospital room, old man Rigordo coughed a few times.

He had cheated death—shot in the thigh and face but was quickly saved by tenants who rushed over.

Ellicon too was dead—collapsing in his home, the forensic report concluded he'd overdosed on a potent hallucinogenic and committed suicide by swallowing his gun.

Incredibly improbable, yet not impossible for a first-time user of such a powerful synthetic chemical, as people high on such drugs could even accidentally strangle themselves, let alone the fact that the kid had a gun in his hand.

"Relax." Lille smiled, "Mr. Rigordo, I'm not moving away. At the very least, I need to repay the debt my mother owes you.

How's John doing?"

Skye immediately answered: "Well... his condition isn't great, but he was treated in time. There might be some lingering damage to his lungs and throat, but luckily, he's not going to die.

Although his voice might be a bit hoarse thereafter."

The so-called 'timely rescue' wasn't from an ambulance but by a passing landlord.

Thanks to a newfound physical reputation, he was saved by a taxi driver who passed by, assuring him that he would get John to the hospital in time—a scene still imprinted in Skye's memory.

According to the doctors, had it been a few seconds later, even if John had woken up, his brain would have suffered permanent and severe damage due to oxygen deprivation.

"But I guess he's not having a good time right now—Anthony's taking care of him, and that guy's singing every day, even teaching little John to sing along."

"Then he's definitely not in high spirits."

In the hospital room, everyone burst into laughter at this.

Chief Stacy George Stacy, watching from the side, cracked a smile as well.

For some reason, this kid always brought a sense of vitality wherever he went.