But why you, a newcor?
Because you’re handso?
But for the sake of trading, there’s no choice. The demands aren’t exaggerated, at least they don’t make you temporarily store your weapons like those sex doll clubs do.
Of course, it’s because the agency isn’t famous enough yet. Once it gains notoriety, Lin Miao will also demand that entrants hand over their equipnt and may even forcibly shut down your cyberware to establish a peaceful zone.
At Gustav’s request, all the Valentino gang mbers unlocked their safeties anyway. When not in use, they have to be unlocked to prevent misfires in their pants.
Upon entry, everyone’s eyelids twitched in Jack’s crew; it had more caras every three steps than the company building.
Generally speaking, both companies and bars often have surveillance blind spots for employees, leaders, and custors to conduct private transactions, but the agency had full coverage surveillance except for the bathroom and private reception room on the second floor—leaving even a secret code on the wall was impossible.
However, they weren’t in the mood to head to a bar for a drink; settling the money and goods issue was most crucial.
Aside from the agency and employee quarters, the venue also had a factory for rebranding and a warehouse, but the vast empty ground was yet unused. Lin Miao was already waiting for them there.
Behind him stood Lucy, Gloria, and a group of players. It’s a pity they weren’t wearing the agency-issued gear; the new players were too scared to wear it out after hearing the equipnt could explode. The batch outsourced to the military uniform factory hadn’t arrived, so they wore casual clothes.
Still, the old players’ aura of battlefield ferocity was no less than any gang’s elite mbers.
"Welco, mbers of the Valentino gang."
"Wow, quite the grand entrance." Jack jumped down first, with a giant killing shotgun strapped to his back, courtesy of budget firepower company gear that emphasized quirkiness.
"Where’s the goods? Let see what’s enchanting my brother Gustav so much."
Lin Miao pointed to the right where players were already demonstrating in exoskeletons.
"Dios mío (My God)!!!"
Jack gazed in awe.
Unlike the Sixth Street Gang’s United States soldier-style helt, the exoskeleton helt prepared for Valentino was a fully covering open-and-close type with a black and white skull painted on the mask, stylistically matched with the mask’s features.
The whole exoskeleton was rich in xico’s Day of the Dead and Catholic artistic styles, adorned with vibrant gold gems and red petals encasing the white skeleton paint, holding a large shield in the left hand.
The shield depicted a skull deity wrapped in orange marigold, the revered death deity to the xican people, while the shield’s inner side had two rows of Spanish inscriptions.
"Death is not the end of life; forgetting is."
"Death is rely the start of our next journey."
A single-handed hamr was strapped to the right thigh, looking unremarkable, but upon striking soone, you’d be surprised to hear Hallelujah from the battery system on your back.
Yes, my equipnt might not match those big companies in stats, but I attack their dullness on an artistic level. Chains-bound souls could never create real art, while players are among the most free and creative minds in this world.
You say you’re using AI to run?
Run ahead, but wait until you reach 20,000 euros a set first.
And it wasn’t over yet.
After players moved the remaining nineteen exoskeleton crates to the empty ground, suddenly hymns echoed from the agency.
Under the stunned gaze of the Valentino gang mbers, an aged priest and two clearly augnted nuns slowly walked out from the factory.
Jack stared, "La...pater Leon? How’s he here?"
Gustav stamred, "How would I know?"
Leon was a priest in a Haywood church, known to many Catholics who’d go pray there on weekends.
Yet Lin Miao loved the saying from this world—if you have money, even God will be your listener.
The priest led the nuns before the 19 crates of exoskeletons and the player. Father Leon dipped a bit of water from the Holy Grail held by the nun and sprinkled it on the open equipnt crates.
"You are divine warriors; wearing divine armor shall make you guardians of the Lord, wielding its blade with invincibility."
He repeated it until all twenty exoskeletons received the ’Lord’s blessing,’ then nodded to Gustav and Jack before leaving.
Though religion has gradually declined, becoming purely a profit tool in this money-driven age, it still holds a place in the hearts of the lower classes. Lin Miao rely spent five thousand euros to do so product marketing using this trend; the priest naturally welcod such ’devout’ followers.
Just sprinkle so water.
Not a big deal.
Blessing equipnt was a tradition left from the Eastern Orthodox Church’s Tsarist Russia era, where they even blessed servers to avoid a ruble crash, although it still fell 52 points that day.
Yet Lin Miao was promoting traditional culture.
Lucy couldn’t bear it anymore, covering her eyes and stepping aside, this was extre shalessness, a rchant’s shalessness.
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