John was sure he had been shot through.
Pain seeped through every nerve with each breath.
The Harbor Company tactical team fired back, the voice channel filled with various information.
The medic dove into the cover circle.
He unfastened John's bulletproof vest, skillfully staunching the bleeding, checking for bullet fragments, and treating the wound.
"Prepare for surgery."
The medic's prosthetic eye flickered, the diagnosis was grim, yet just as he was about to link the life-support equipment...
John raised his hand to stop him.
He was drenched in cold sweat, his face pale, yet his mind was clear—the Internet Surveillance might have come for Black Light, and if any physical hack was detected now, things would become very bad.
"Do you want to die?"
The medic frowned, staring at John.
Eden, wearing a tactical vest, walked into the encirclement, stepping over John's spilled blood to look down at him.
"What have you done?"
"I... don't... know."
