Cyberpunk: 1702 Repair Shop

In the black iron area, life is the most valuable consumable. Helen, the top killer, felt the same way when she had a big hole blasted out of her abdomen and fell into the acid rain to be scrapped. Until she was dragged into an old repair shop that didn't even have a basic defensive force field. "The micron-level neural pipeline has been welded." The young male boss wiped the water stains from his hands with a dry towel. Helen grasped the heavy hand cannon hidden in the dark: "How to calculate the surgery fee?" "A ceramic water purification filter element from the old era." The man didn't even look up. "If you happen to still find it, add an unopened jar of natural spices." In this cyber wasteland where even mice have tumors and acid rain can dissolve all seeds. A pinch of natural pepper, used for cooking, is rarer than a military Gauss rifle. To pay off this ridiculous debt. Downtown's deadliest ghost has lowered its fangs. She went to the black market to buy scrap-level information, took on a low-level janitor job for 80 credits a day, and rummaged through poisonous swamps and ruins to find the remains of the old era that no one wanted. Outside the rolling shutter door, there is a cyber purgatory with flashing neon lights and painful flesh and blood; Inside the rolling shutter door, the soldering iron splashed tiny sparks, and the old-fashioned floor lamp was dim. Helen originally thought that this was just an equal exchange of each getting what he needed. Until she pushed open the rolling door with "1702" painted on it again and again, covered in gunpowder smoke and black mud. She gradually realized that in this steel jungle that was completely drained by plutocrats and gangs... The most incredible thing may never be the resurrection from the dead.