Chapter 69
Chapter 69
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 69
Chapter Title: How to Survive in Fusion Punk
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Crisp footsteps approached steadily.
A vintage light brown jacket over jeans.
Tall leather boots.
And stylish sunglasses to top it all off.
The blonde woman striding toward him, hair swaying, evoked the image of a trucker cruising America's Route 66.
Of course, hardly any real truckers looked that put-together.
Crossing thousands of miles across the continent was basically a 3D job from hell, after all.
What style could you expect from folks with mountains of dented canned coffee piled up in the passenger seat? Honestly, that was asking too much.
But if you sweated every little detail like that, you couldn't survive in this world.
What mattered was the vibe? The aura?
That indefinable something words couldn't quite capture!
Back in Jin's hometown, they called it "physiognomy."
Juicy features, puppy face, snake eyes.
All sorts of types.
So why not an American West vibe?
And the woman who now settled onto the opposite sofa embodied exactly that.
"...Hard to even catch a glimpse of your face these days."
She slipped off her sunglasses with a faint smile, her eyes meeting Jin's.
"Long time no see, Jin."
"Ah. It was you."
Jin clapped his hands without thinking.
A forgotten memory flashed through his mind like a panorama.
Natasha Vermouth.
The Level 3 solo trucker who'd kidnapped the linker who betrayed him, sparking a chaotic chase.
He recalled suggesting she drop by Anecdote when they parted ways—maybe even land a new gig there.
Ah, right. That's how it went.
Jin's face cracked into a grin just as—
"You actually remember me?"
Natasha's expression shifted.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, full of skepticism.
"Not just something you heard beforehand?"
"What, want me to flash my abs like last time to prove it?"
Natasha snorted at Jin's quip as he tugged at his shirt.
"Guess you haven't totally forgotten."
For the record, they'd exchanged numbers before parting.
Of course, the device with Natasha's contact had heroically melted in his old scrap with Killgear.
Whether she'd tried reaching out since was uncharted territory.
Whatever.
Jin greeted her brightly.
"Love this place. Owner bakes killer cookies."
"......Jin?"
A low voice from behind made Jin flick his eyes sideways, then snap them back.
"Anyway, good to see you. Thanks for coming along."
"Gotta help out. I owe you from before."
"Oh, right, speaking of which—"
Just before the question about his owed cash slipped out—
Ding-a-ling.
The shop door swung open as a stranger entered.
"Ahem."
Unfamiliar space, unfamiliar faces.
And eyes now turning his way.
The young man, large backpack slung over his shoulders, cleared his throat softly amid the sudden attention.
But he was short.
Even standing ramrod straight, he barely reached Jin's chest—generously, early 160s? Maybe less?
And Jin knew the guy's name.
Thanks to Dandre's heads-up.
Something about not freaking if a shortstack shows up...
"Massimo?"
The man turned at his name.
Maybe the short-cropped hair?
His round, berry-like face hustled over on short strides, hand extended.
Gripping it, Jin felt the calluses—plenty tough.
"Yeah, that's me, Massimo. Nice to meet you."
"Jin. This is—"
"Natasha."
She added a casual nod.
"You're the carrier, huh? Heard a lot about you."
Jin eyed Massimo anew.
Guy's got some rep, huh.
"Looks like everyone's here. Time for a quick briefing."
Kalifa peeled off the wall, confirming the three solos assembled.
And as her heels clicked toward the sofas—
Ding-a-ling.
The door again.
Who now?
Beyond the turning heads, a reggae-haired linker appeared!
"......?"
"Ignore me. Carry on."
He wagged his fingers at Kalifa's narrowed eyes, then crossed his arms at a distance.
And just stared, dead serious.
Sharing the same air mattered.
"Why'd he come all the way here?"
Massimo cringed hard.
"...Anyway, let's start."
Kalifa shot a what even is this guy look but resumed the briefing.
Tunnel locations, Underheart org chart, intel on squads deployed there.
Not that it was long.
"That's all I can give you right now. Not much is known, and we didn't dig too deep."
She met Jin's eyes.
"So don't push too hard."
"Why look at me?"
"Who else?"
"Ah?"
Briefing ended on Jin's blank stare.
Natasha spoke first.
"Ride in my truck, then?"
"Ooh, cargo hauler." "Sounds good."
The other two nodded.
As the trio rose naturally—
"Jin."
A voice over his shoulder; Jin turned to find Dandre, notebook extended.
"What's this?"
Jin took it, popping the clasp and asking.
"Remember that guy who spilled intel to you? Henato."
"Yeah."
"Compiled all his loose talk there. He was sick of tunnel runs, so a little prodding and he'd ramble org secrets. Hope it's useful."
Jin glanced down: Damn.
Underground cross-sections, crew info.
Dense script drew a whistle.
"I'll use it. Thanks."
Pocketing the notebook, Jin patted Dandre's shoulder lightly, waved to Kalifa and Poh, and turned.
"......"
Dandre watched them go silently, then plopped into a nearby chair.
He turned to Kalifa and Poh eyeing him.
"No need to thank me. For my team's success? This is nothing. That's what linkers do, right?"
Even he thought it was a cool line as he rose slowly.
"...Gonna be a long night."
Poh called after him, hands in pockets.
"Since you're here, coffee on the house—"
"Nah."
Kalifa cut in.
Her glare fixed on the linker exiting.
"Just let him enjoy it."
Wanted criminals.
Put another way: scum marked by City Hall.
Though the gap between them was vast.
Take Styx.
Members who could flip a whole district solo.
Face Collector.
Old evils with grudges against the gov piled up over years—rewards starting at 10 billion baseline.
Some even hit 100 billion.
Jin would faint on the spot from cosmic dread.
But those bounties were mostly symbolic.
A way to quantify unfathomable danger with universal cash value.
No idiot bounty hunter threw their life at that money.
Clashes here stemmed from deep grudges or convictions.
Of course, clueless analysts loved ranking them—
30 bil stronger than 20 bil.
30 bil weaker than 50 bil.
Peddling simplistic number games, but whatever, let it slide.
Not entirely wrong, if nitpicking.
Back to it.
If monsters used bounties as keywords flaunting their rep,
Then there were the run-of-the-mill types too.
Real prey, constantly hunted.
Realistic sums, realistic strength.
Thus, tons chasing their necks.
Ambiguity was the worst.
Not untouchable powerhouses, and this city overflowed with bigger fish just a glance around.
So what to do?
For middling crooks guarding their hides.
The answer, timeless across eras: band together!
Form groups, build structure.
Make it untouchable for pursuers.
Underheart was one such crew.
Criminals ruling Area 40 subways.
War criminals from corp-house wars who'd coalesced; decades later, their own kingdom.
Some called them underground scavengers.
Leader: Bomber Damir Habovic.
2nd-circle mage mastering explosions, key in reclaiming the tunnels...
Jin flipped the notebook.
Eyes darting, brimming with interest.
Rare for him—three-line summaries or bust.
This was gold.
"...Dude organized it properly."
Jin muttered, glancing back at the tiny rest nook behind shotgun—the truck bed spot.
"Dandre's better at his job than I thought?"
Massimo, lounging there, replied.
"He's always meticulous with work. Image is just trash."
"How'd he end up like that?"
"Look at him. Straight-up loan shark boss. Recruiting solos with that face? Wrong crowds swarmed. Linker's gotta filter smart, but he tried hugging 'em all. Even wiped asses for deadweight, handled solos' tossed gigs himself maybe."
Jin nodded.
Got the vibe.
Turning frontward:
"Gotta make it worth his while, then."
"We'll see. Clear the trash around him first."
Massimo shrugged sourly.
His height let him lotus on the bunk without grazing the ceiling.
Yet that backpack dwarfed him.
Why lug person-sized gear in the cab over cargo hold? Jin couldn't fathom.
Attachment pack, I guess.
Then—
"So why're you two hitting the tunnels?"
Massimo's question; Jin eyed the notebook, answering.
"Ah. Got something to find."
"Helping Jin. Owe him from before."
Natasha glanced at Massimo via rearview.
"You?"
"Nothing special. Figured poke ancient underground ruins, snag a usable artifact maybe. Late to the party though..."
Berry face side-eyed Jin shotgun-side.
"Still, supernova here's along for it."
Tiny mutter.
Jin missed it, oblivious to his skyrocketing rep, eyes glued to the notebook.
His one distraction: sibling chatroom pings.
Apologized at length for ghosting Rum Pump Pump Pump takeout weeks running.
[Don't get hurt]
[Fighting!]
Snickering at replies, Jin powered off, leaned head to window.
The truck reached destination late night.
Area 41, Untitled Town.
Once a dreamed planned utopia, now skeletal girders crouched in dark silence.
Center: round, rusted sign.
[Metro Web / 40th Division]
Screech, screech.
Signpost rattling.
Stairs plunging underground.
"...Kinda creepy."
Massimo shivered, flicking flashlight.
Click.
Beam revealed only curving stairs downward.
"Not too late, hopefully."
"Let's go."
Jin stepped down.
Ruins on B3, platform.
Then one more below.
Recalling intel, they descended—suddenly in the subway proper.
Greeted by thick blood reek.
Metallic tang of death.
Vibrating everywhere.
Headache-inducing.
"......"
Jin pressed on.
Cradle of criminals, their kingdom subway.
How far through the half-ruined depths, holding breath?
Spotting floor bloodstains, Jin tracked the filth slowly with flashlight.
To the wall.
Red handprint message.
[Turn Back!]
Eerie words as status popped before eyes.
Changed form.
Dungeon?
Jin pulled his face close like a squinter, reading.
Dungeon indeed.
Then, closing eyes slowly, he muttered inwardly.
We're fucked.