In this rotten-to-the-core city, starting a business will always encounter trouble, especially when the restaurant's main clients are those lawbreakers with money.
John was interrupted by a sudden pop-up message.
He waited a few seconds, but didn't see any follow-up — tasks usually provide a rough [target], but this time there was nothing written; does it mean he can handle it however he wants?
The one trying to flirt with Wenna at the bar was a street kid.
The two companions around him were of the same ilk:
Simple prosthetic body configuration, weapons exposed, new tattoos, and shiny jackets with no obvious affiliations, probably hadn't joined any major factions, just started their lives as edge walkers, and maybe got lucky enough to earn a bit of money.
Once they have money in their pockets, people can easily become blindly confident.
John took only a few seconds to "dissect" them cleanly.
These people also noticed the presence of a mercenary and his unabashed anger.
