[There is someone here.]

[Have you scanned?]

[The biological information isn't on the list, damn it, we'll just have to rely on the city council and police department.]

The bionic eye refocuses.

The language detection system is still diligently translating, directly delivering the captured dialogue to the retina.

John's consciousness fades in and out.

He can't command a single muscle in his body, not even the pain is clear—sometimes it's so painful he passes out, sometimes he's entirely numb, feeling cold, feverish…

Occasionally, voices can be heard.

There are even clear footsteps passing by him.

Those boots sink into the soil of the green area, the vibrations spreading throughout his body, yet no one stops for him.

[…Hey, F*ck.]

[Here's another one with a broken arm.]

The sky shifts from gray to a pale white.

His throat is full of bitterness.

Sometimes John wakes up suffocating, his mind then struggles to breathe during those few clear seconds.

The nostrils weakly twitch a few times.

His lungs drag other organs, his viscera a mess due to heavy impact and collision.

Each time John regains consciousness, he's surprised to find he's still alive.

He hovers on the edge of unconsciousness, repeatedly considering giving up, yet within him, a continual will to survive emerges.

[Here's another… damn it…]

[What's the deal with these medical tubes?]

[Looks like someone's trying to rescue him.]

[Then why not just lift him onto a stretcher and take him away?]

[I scanned him already, he's not a client in the package, the municipal rescue is still busy clearing debris, probably can't get on the list either.]

[How about we give him an injection, let fate decide, I guess that's what these drugs are for.]

John can't see who's having the conversation.

From the blurred outlines and red markings, he guesses it might be an emergency rescue team or a similar medical organization.

[Are you f*cking crazy?]

[How to write the rescue report, conscience doesn't help you score full performance evaluations, F*ck, forget it, by the looks of it, he probably won't last a few hours.]

[Just let him fend for himself?]

[Otherwise, we're not the first ones to pass by, nobody can spare the effort, don't burden yourself with it.]

[We…]

[Go! Now!]

The footsteps gradually fade away.

Tears roll down John's cheeks.

In the warmth, there's an itching pain, a gnawing discomfort.

[Recalibrating.]

[143rd scan, poor vitals, reassessing body status and recalibrating carrier information.]

[Significant consciousness fluctuations detected…]

[Emergency protocol fifteen in progress… merged with protocol twenty-seven, search radius expanded by fifty meters…]

The sound of the hydraulic module starting up can be heard.

John tries to lift his gaze, only to roll his eyes back, a beam of red light then blocks the chaotic bushes and city sky.

The Black Spider constantly lurks, only moving before John when no one else is around.

Its mechanical legs elevate, the scanning lens retracting and extending.

Two rows of red lights converge into an intersecting cross halo.

Plop!

"Cough… Ah…"

John's throat feels encased in sandpaper, his body arches slightly, his back soaked in blood, seeming glued to the grass, a tearing pain spreads from all over his body.

"Huff… Huff… Ah…"

He gasps heavily, the pain twitching the corners of his eyes, and when he turns his head, he sees the ground littered with medicine bottles.

All kinds.

A stack of unused syringes is piled next to the Black Spider, it's uncertain where they were gathered from.

The medication starts taking effect.

John feels blood gushing from his throat and nostrils, finally understanding how he's been enduring this.

The Black Spider is executing some command to save him.

John's breathing speeds up, his vision steadies, and he sees spotlights occasionally sweep past him.

His hearing and awareness slightly recover.

Dense footsteps and engine noises come from all directions, most still at a distance.

The wails of sirens arise everywhere.

Lights illuminate.

The hot air sweeps across the land, seemingly something massive is burning, the flames lighting up almost half the city.

Splashes of water knock down shrubs, dripping with dust, occasionally falling on John's cheeks.

[Mission target update]

[Make a call to someone in the contact list. (Unfulfilled)]

Words float directly into the depths of his mind.

John focuses, trying several times, barely managing to awaken his contact list.

But then the iris page flickers and goes out.

[Bionic eye malfunction detected, significant disconnection in brain signals, device reboot in progress…]

John clenches his teeth, face contorted in pain, emotions uncontrollably turning to anger.

Stimulated, his consciousness becomes clearer, the process of pulling up the contact list is again smooth.

But what follows is an unbearable intense pain, and a renewed wave of weakness sweeps over him.

The effect of the medication is waning.

John has but one chance to call for help.

Dizziness crashes over his mind like waves, and subconsciously, before slipping into unconsciousness, he dials a number, not even choosing—it automatically calls the last contact.

[Contact - Oulos Grenada]

[…Damn it, are you still alive? Why haven't you responded to my messages… is Hugo there? Right now… John?]

"Hle…"

John musters all his strength to utter just half a word.

In the effort to work his throat, more blood wells up, adding a dark crimson to the grass.

[Call interrupted [exception]]

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