Chapter 102: The Transaction is Completed
Meanwhile, Mason, having changed locations several times, was heading further and further away from the downtown slums.
"Looks like this guy's real paranoid. Not only did he refuse to provide a specific route, but he deliberately chose some godforsaken place for the final handoff." But thinking about it, it made sense. Black market energy compound trading was a federal offense.
If discovered, it wasn't just a bullet to the head—the entire supply chain would get rolled up: the supplier, the buyer, and every courier involved in the delivery.
Finally, when Mason arrived at the waste incineration plant on the edge of the lower districts, the address on the metal case stopped updating.
"This must be it." Mason concealed his pistol, wrapped the metal case, carefully surveyed his surroundings, and exited the vehicle.
Dusk had fallen, and there were no lights around—you could barely make out the general shapes of objects.
Mason pulled out a pair of night-vision goggles. He adjusted them slightly, and the optics focused, rendering his surroundings as bright as midday.
This was an external device manufactured by Weyland-Yutani Tech Division. Through specialized light amplification, it allowed the wearer to see normally in pitch-black environments.
This item was a luxury good—neither dirt cheap nor prohibitively expensive. In this era, many cybernetic modifications allowed people to overcome the limitations of darkness. Something this pricey, fragile, and easy to steal wasn't the top choice for most operators.
Mason stood there for a while, then circled the vehicle several times. A full five or six minutes passed without anyone showing.
Suddenly, unease washed over him—a sharp, tingling sensation crawled across his skin. Suppressing the urge to dive for cover, Mason casually turned his back to the direction of the threat, then quickly scanned the area from the corner of his eye.
"Must be him. Guy's overly cautious." After being jerked around like a lab rat for so long and repeatedly tested, Mason felt irritation rising.
He wandered around nonchalantly for a few more minutes, glanced at his watch, then leisurely climbed into the vehicle, started the engine, and drove off.
In a makeshift observation post atop the junkyard, Donovan stared in bewilderment at Mason's actions.
"The goods haven't been transferred yet—why's he leaving?" Now he was the one getting anxious.
He pulled out a small metallic chip, about the size of a quarter, and gently placed it against his watch. A ripple of light flashed as the information from the chip was read. Simultaneously, Mason, parked beneath the trash heaps, also received feedback from the metal case.
"Paranoid son of a bitch!"
Mason cursed under his breath, looking at the new target location displayed on the case's surface. He understood the other party's caution, but anyone would be pissed after being strung along like a chump for this long.
He simply stopped moving, parked the vehicle to the side, and leisurely sat inside to wait.
Donovan waited for a long time, and seeing that Mason hadn't budged, he was fuming. "That low-class piece of trash actually expects me to come to him?" Donovan was a class supremacist—in his eyes, people living in the lower districts were human garbage.
Being in the same environment as them, breathing the same air, made him feel degraded.
Fortunately, although he was in a junkyard, it mainly recycled scrap metal and didn't reek, otherwise, given his attitude, he probably would've lost his mind already.
"The compound's more important. This place might be isolated, but it's not secure. Let's finish this," said Cade, standing beside him.
"Once we get the goods, I'll make that low-rent scumbag pay." Worried about losing the energy compound he was about to acquire, Donovan reluctantly climbed out of his hiding spot.
"BANG!"
Donovan kicked the front of Mason's vehicle. With his augmented strength, the kick instantly created a massive dent in Mason's hood.
"Out of the car! I want to inspect the merchandise!"
Mason stepped out carrying the metal case. Donovan scanned it with his smartwatch, and the information verification completed, confirming he was indeed the authorized recipient.
"Inspect away."
Mason held the metal case flat at chest level.
Donovan placed the metallic chip—about the size of a quarter—onto the metal case. The surface of the case slowly liquified like mercury, actually absorbing the chip placed upon it.
Countless fine metallic filaments emerged from the chip, extending like cybernetic tentacles into the interior of the case.
With a mechanical whir and a soft hiss, the case rose, then unfolded to both sides, revealing a glowing blue vial inside through rising vapor.
In the darkness, the blue compound emitted a faint luminescence, and upon closer inspection, microscopic particles seemed to rotate along a specific trajectory.
Mason concealed the greed in his eyes, watching as the middle-aged man standing nearby reached out and extracted the vial.
He first carefully examined the outer packaging and seal, then pulled out a finger-sized scanner from his pocket, aimed it at the vial, and gently activated it several times.
Donovan watched Cade's actions intently. "Well? Is it legitimate?"
"This compound is extremely temperature-sensitive. Through specialized testing methods, we can induce different levels of chromatic response. Give it a moment," Cade explained calmly.
As soon as he finished speaking, the originally blue liquid underwent a dramatic transformation. The particles that had been drifting in a specific pattern first contracted, then suddenly dispersed, shifting color from blue to red, from red to yellow, then cycling through a sequence of dozens of different hues.
Cade nodded to Donovan. "It's authentic."
Donovan's eyes lit up with excitement. "Excellent. As long as this works, that thirty million will be—"
"Ahem!" Cade coughed, cutting Donovan off.
The vial was placed back into the case, and the metal container automatically sealed itself, returning to its original state. Its surface shimmered, and the authorization key reappeared.
Click!
The bands around Mason's wrists automatically detached. Mason pointed his watch toward Donovan. "Confirm receipt."
Donovan was in high spirits, stepped forward a few paces, and pressed the key in his hand against Mason's watch. The smartwatch automatically read the key signature and matched it with the case number stored in the transaction order. Once the match succeeded, the goods were officially delivered.
Mason felt a burning sensation in his palm—his personal terminal notified him that the real-world mission was complete and 300 Time-Space Coins had been credited to his account.
But just then, Donovan moved closer and caught sight of Mason's face hidden in the shadow of his hood. He startled at first, then his expression changed dramatically.
"It's you!"
Being recognized during such a critical black market transaction was extremely disadvantageous, so both Mason and Donovan had deliberately concealed their appearances.
In that instant of Donovan's shock, Mason subtly adjusted the muzzle of the gun hidden in his tactical coat, aimed it at Donovan's center mass, and squeezed the trigger!
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