Some people said, "Being a corporate dog is better than running wild on the streets," and even began comparing which companyâs benefits were better.
But the fact is, the world isnât just composed of giant corporations, and even if you donât finish school, joining a company would only make you a thug, and not necessarily for a giant corporation.
Even finishing school doesnât guarantee much. Reaching Mattâs fatherâs level was already quite impressive, probably earning a few thousand bucks a year, just enough to support the family with a string of insurances while enjoying a high-tech life in a skyscraperâ
Saving money? Forget about it. In this era, a legal citizen without debt was a miracle.
But borrowing money to speculate in stocks... letâs just say Mattâs mom was a bit off.
"Alright, next up is the stationary jump." Lille tapped on the tablet beside him, signaling Matt to start another round of data collection.
All of Mattâs body data and prosthetics information would be integrated into the handheld terminal, serving as an agent-specific athlete ID for sports medicine checks.
"Raise your performance if you want to buy your dad out!"
Lille was tired of Blaisâs weird remarks and silently noted them down.
Matt was only 10 years old; large-scale prosthetic modifications were not advisableâJack could inject large amounts of titanium into his bones for skeletal enhancement, but kids couldnât.
Actually, most prosthetics wouldnât grow with the body. So, the normal doctrine didnât support children using prosthetics beyond brain-machine interfaces.
The prosthetics on Matt, however, were different. Essentially, Lille had only cut away part of his tendons and connective tissue, then stitched in artificial tendons made of human-lizard cells to match his strong bones.
Matt had been wandering the streets for almost two years. If school dropout time was counted, it was even longer. From the moment he dropped out, he no longer participated in the project.
His physical fitness, far better than his peers, would weaken without systematic nutrition and training, although muscle atrophy would happen faster than bone degeneration.
From the outside, it looked like there were only some hormone injectorsâ designs considered, with micrometer-scale automatic injectors added to these implanted parts, smaller and less power-consuming than the monitoring standards set by FIFA, thus not needing detailed checks and control.
A series of numbers appeared on the screen:
[Name: Matt]
[Age: 10]
[Gender: Male]
[Basic Athletic Performance:]
[100-meter dash: 11.27 seconds (Excellent)]
[5 kilometers: 24 minutes 32 seconds (Good)]
[Vertical jump: 73 centimeters (Excellent)]
[Gymnastics: Cartwheel, backflip, single-arm handstand up completion rate average (Average)]
[Weightlifting: 90 kilograms squat (Good), 50 kilograms bench press (Below average)]
After finishing three rounds of tests on the machine, Matt lay directly on the floor, not caring how dirty the unfinished room was.
Not bad. Matt adapted pretty quickly. Though he was average in physical coordination, his speed, endurance, and jumping were maxed out.
Speed and jumping spoke for themselves, but todayâs football players could carry a certain degree of endurance supplements. Human-lizard cells were extremely efficient at utilizing biomass energy, needing only cheap glucose.
"Not bad..." Lille examined the terminal and then handed it to Blais, "Youâll be his fitness coach for the time being, and guard the base too."
"Alrightâbut bro, shouldnât you pay the labor fee for this period?"
Lille glanced at V, who rolled his eyes at him.
[Transaction: -âŹ50,000]
Counting this money, Lille had spent 450,000 euros since arriving in Dog Town.
According to Burger Kingâs new rules, the three would split the bill, leaving Lille still owing V 150,000, bringing the total debt to 1,150,000.
Blais nodded with satisfaction, picked up Matt from the floor with one hand, and walked into the training room.
Sitting nearby, V suddenly put his hand on Lilleâs shoulder, "I say, this kidâs physique is better than yours."
"Knowledge is power," Lille shook his head, "Those who know, know. Those who donât... stop bothering me. I need to make a call."
As Lilleâs wheelchair rolled away, V grabbed nothing but airâ
Looking incredulous, "That wheelchair is really fast!"
Jack, slightly surprised, squeezed the back of the wheelchair. There was a spot that seemed designed for pushing, and when he grabbed it, it rose to just the right height for him to push.
"Perfect, push here."
Jack obediently grabbed on; the prosthetic eye displayed Da Maiâs navigation markers.
"Um... Lille, is the advanced feature of this thing honestly just being pushable? Where are we headed now?"
"Youâll understand when you see it. As for us, now that we have a young sports star, itâs time to look for a stage where he can shine.
Dog Town has a black market for sportsmen. They trade kids with potential, about Mattâs age. We should look to connect with them, introduce our product, bring them good stuff, and use their channels to buy things."
Jack pushed the wheelchair, and V, with arms behind his head, walked beside Lille, "Donât we still have an outstanding job? The one with the Network Surveillance?"
"Right, thatâs our second task, but Network Surveillance mightâve already infiltratedâHansen doesnât want Network Surveillance here, but this forsaken placeâs network security mainly relies on the Voodoo Gang, whose tech is...
All I can say is that Europeans are better at technical monopolies, so first, the Voodoo Gang couldnât block all Network Surveillance.
Secondly, I burned down the Sea Godâs intranet on the outskirts of Taiping State, which will surely interfere with the local network operation here.
So before contacting Blais, we need to determine Network Surveillanceâs strategy, specifically how many people theyâve sent here."
"Doing two tasks at once?"
"Preferablyâhowever, let me probe around first and then decide."
Boomâ
They had just taken the elevator down and walked out of the building when a tremendous blast echoed from the EBM Stadium.
Lille frowned...
That place was the most down-to-earth part of Dog Town, and one of Hansenâs valued black markets.
Whatâs happening...
[Munemasa: Little Flat Headâs current monitoring shows devices going offlineâlarge-scale offline. Should I check it out?]
[Lille: Be cautious. Iâll use my methods to investigate.]
[Contact: Mr. Hans]
[Beepâ]
[Mr. Hans: Burger King? Youâve arrived? Taking the stadium route?]
[Lille: I came from there, but I arrived yesterday.]
[Mr. Hans: If it wasnât you, then who was it?]
...
[Lille: It wasnât me.]
Mr. Hans sat in his chair, frowning deeply.
Based on reports from his informants, a firefight had broken out inside the EBM Stadium.
All this information came from lookouts outside the stadium, claiming they felt tremors there, likely from some kind of concussion weapon going off inside.
The EBM Stadium... one of Hansenâs valued black markets.
Who was stirring up trouble on their turf?
...
The EBM Stadium, already shattered by an explosion, had just witnessed a gunfight, ending with a blast.
Amid the smoke, you could see the ground littered with the corpses of Netherlands Dogs and residentsâ
Shattered flesh, sparking prosthetics, scars left by large-caliber firearms, and charred black pieces, the results of the explosion.
A Netherworld Dog Mecha, one leg blown off, knelt with its remaining cannon aimed at the street.
Most black market shops had activated emergency defenses, protecting their stalls, goods, and, most importantly, the proprietors inside.
Yet the blast was still strong enough to deform every door.
The worst hit was Sofiaâs armory shop, the largest black market arms dealer in the EBM Stadium, with an assortment of technical weapons, especially military tech essentials, like Achilles rifles, selling in bulkâ
But now, it was all reduced to ashes, as the explosion originated right there.
Their small warehouse was ignited; someone had detonated the explosives inside, with skillful and practiced hands, and...
The timing was perfect.
Sofiaâs head lay not far away, with only the indestructible prosthetic skull slowly blackening in the flames.
A Netherworld Dog, missing its lower half, leaned against the mecha, frantically calling for reinforcements:
[Netherworld Dog Sergeant #0089: Requesting reinforcements! Requesting reinforcements! There are some maniacs here!]
[Netherworld Dog Sergeant #0089: Requesting... Hansen, fuck you! Iâve long wanted to quit this place!]
The message couldnât be sent out.
"Fuck... Brothersâoh shit!"
Bang!
The Netherworld Dog Mecha suddenly trembled violently, and before the sergeant could react, it performed a 360-degree rotation, with the gun barrel radiating heat, sweeping off the sergeantâs head!
No Netherworld Dog remained alive in the black market. The vendors hiding in their safe houses trembled, clueless about who was unleashing mayhem here.
But it seemed, they could hear footsteps; the steps were not heavy, as if they hadnât even seen the assailant, yet a hail of bullets had shattered the streetâs... transactions.
The sound of Netherworld Dog armored vehicles roared like thunder, clearly not the type that waited for intel before acting.
But...
They were still too slow.
The assailant could have easily escaped before they arrived.