Chapter 48: Opportunity
When Mason left the gym, it was already past 8 PM. Border City was less peaceful at this time of night. Along the way, Mason witnessed two muggings and three thefts, observing them silently.
This society was technologically advanced, yet its people were morally bankrupt. Behind the material wealth lay a growing spiritual emptiness and a rising tide of crime.
He had talked with Rico for a long time and learned about Prime Warriors and mega-corporations. Society was a dense web, with biotechnology and cybernetic technology being the most advanced. Based on these two core technologies, major corporations competed for resources.
Many small companies without core technologies could only survive at the mercy of the mega-corporations, eking out an existence in the margins. Corporate espionage
was rampant.
To protect their core technologies, corporations had to raise entry requirements, requiring multiple layers of screening before accepting new employees.
Furthermore, employees were not allowed to leave for life.
Mason's enhanced body made him a minor prodigy—if he actively joined a corporation, he should be able to secure a decent contract.
But he harbored a secret and couldn't adapt to the extremely restrictive system within these corporations. He could only secretly accumulate power, searching for other paths to become a Prime Warrior.
In this world, people are disposable—if you want to live better and protect your secrets, the best approach isn't to rot in the gutter, but to climb upwards, carefully improving your strength.
After much negotiation, Mason spent almost all his savings to buy a short-term training package.
For the next two months, he would receive one-on-one instruction from Rico, learning combat techniques.
Although some commercial areas in the lower city had training facilities with android instructors,
these places required proper identification, and the android courses were relatively limited, failing to meet Mason's needs.
Rico had simply demonstrated a couple of moves—despite his young age, his skills were extremely refined, and his control over his body amazed Mason.
Furthermore, Mason felt this gym wasn't simple. He'd delivered goods there several times, and each package seemed to involve prohibited human augmentation technology.
Since Donovan's father sent him here to train, it meant that this gym, hidden deep in Elm Street, probably possessed some genuine secrets.
Mason didn't think he'd learn anything extraordinary from the money he spent, but more exposure and broadening his horizons would be beneficial.
Nothing more was said that night.
Early the next morning, Mason arrived at Donnie's repair shop.
Seeing him enter, many people couldn't help but keep their distance, and a few runners even huddled together in a corner, pointing and whispering.
"Hey, Mason, you're a local legend now!" George greeted him with a smile, then offered him a cigarette.
Mason didn't take it, waving it away with a smile.
Although this era had more potent recreational substances, tobacco—this ancient relic—still stubbornly maintained its presence.
"Yesterday you cleanly and efficiently tore off Mad Dog Johnny's jaw. You wouldn't believe it—when I took him to Doc Dodd, everyone in the clinic was stunned!" George gave a thumbs up.
"You're brutal, man. If that blade in his face had been just an inch higher, it might've hit his brain," George said, sounding somewhat regretful.
"And that slash you made in his back—it cut right at the junction of his cybernetics and flesh, damaging a crucial neural connection unit. That stuff is expensive as hell; Donnie spent a fortune to fix it."
George chuckled. "You wouldn't believe it—when I got the bill and saw the number, Donnie's face turned dark as coal. Guess what he said?"
Before Mason could answer, he continued, "Is this mad dog made of platinum? Should've just dumped him in the trash instead of letting him waste my money!"
"Ha!" George laughed, but as he laughed, he suddenly realized everything had gone quiet, and a chill ran down his spine.
He turned around abruptly and saw Donnie staring at him with a grim expression.
"Is it funny? Get out of here and clean the shop outside!"
George's face went pale, and he slunk out dejectedly, giving Mason a reproachful look as he left.
"Mason, come with me!"
Seeing Mason, Donnie's expression softened slightly, and amidst the envious gazes of the crowd, Mason followed Donnie into the office.
"He's the one who took down Johnny yesterday? This kid doesn't even look like he could bench press a hundred pounds!" someone muttered nearby.
"Hmph! You can try him yourself if you don't believe me. I saw it with my own eyes yesterday. That guy was lightning-fast—he tore Johnny's jaw off in seconds. If the boss hadn't arrived in time, Mad Dog would be dead right now!"
"I'd say it's better if he were dead, so we wouldn't have to..." one of the runners muttered.
"Shut up—do you want to die? Johnny may be gone now, but he'll be back sooner or later!" The man's companion hurriedly covered his mouth, and the two whispered as they left.
In the office, Donnie sat imposingly in his chair.
"Sit down, Mason!"
"Boss Donnie, just tell me what you need. I can stand." Mason sensed something was off. He positioned his hand near his blade and spoke softly.
"Sit down, enough with the drama!"
"Yes, sir!"
Mason reluctantly sat down, but only on the edge, ready to spring into action at any moment.
He only knew Donnie's marksmanship was superb, but he'd never seen him fight hand-to-hand, so he wasn't sure if he could take Donnie down and escape if things went south.
For some reason, he felt there was something unusual in Donnie's gaze.
Donnie lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.
"I've sent Mad Dog elsewhere. You two won't be crossing paths for a while. I hope you can both cool off. After all, you're both part of my operation—don't give outsiders something to laugh about."
Donnie's first sentence made Mason pause slightly. His words seemed to imply that Mason was also a member of the Gear Gang. It's important to understand that Mason wasn't even a peripheral member—he was just one of many independent contractors.
"Some things have happened recently. The lower city is a bit unstable. Several other gangs have encroached on our territory. I sent Mad Dog to cover things, but we're short a capable person around here." Donnie flicked his cigarette ash, staring intently at Mason.
"Boss Donnie, you don't mean... you want me to..."
Donnie nodded. "You're not a member of the Gear Gang yet, but it's only a matter of time. So I talked to the bosses upstairs about you, and they agreed to my request. I hope you can seize this opportunity!"
Mason lowered his head, deep in thought. He had a feeling things weren't as straightforward as they seemed, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
Just then, he heard Donnie say casually, "Oh, by the way, regarding that delivery you made the night before last, this gentleman has a few questions for you."
Mason's expression suddenly changed, his head still lowered. How did this circle back to that murder case again?!
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