Through the window, Meteor City passed by in all its cyberpunk glory — neon billboards floating in the air, buildings with moving walls, people walking dogs with hoverboards.
This world was decades ahead.
Cures for cancer, HIV, even brain-degeneration were already mainstream… if you had the cash.
Just last week, a new virus called Nostalgia Flu was trending — it made people suddenly miss their exes. Ugly business.
Meteor City like every successful city was split into two worlds:
The Lower District, where the concrete cracked, the Wi-Fi lagged, and the vending machines gave attitude.
And the Upper District, where rich kids ordered golden bubble tea and took anti-aging pills like Tic Tacs.
Jason leaned against the window, his head resting against the cool glass.
"So," he said, "if I'm about to drop five bucks on a haircut, I better not come out looking like a moldy lettuce head. What style should I go for?"
He still talked because the only way the driver could hear him is if he tapped a red button on the right.
The bracelet pulsed.
『Current status: Jobless. Reputation: Basement tier. Fit: Dumpster casual. Hair: Cotton candy disaster.』
Jason narrowed his eyes. "Bro. Just recommend a hairstyle."
Another screen popped up, showcasing various male haircuts like it was a PowerPoint made by a fashion-obsessed assassin.
There was a fade.
A low cut. A full dreads setup.
A cyber-mohawk.
Then it highlighted one style with a glowing border.
『Recommended Style: Cornrow Braids with Side Design.』
『Reason: You need to look tougher. You currently look like a background character in a sitcom about ramen.』
Jason blinked.
"…That kinda goes hard though."
The bunny on his shoulder bobbed its head in approval, paws crossed like a little hair consultant.
Jason scratched his jaw. "Braids, huh? That's bold. Never had them before. You think I'll pull it off?"
『With a proper haircut and good clothes, you'll go from 'expired burrito' to 'mysterious villain with main character energy.'』
He chuckled. "Well damn. Guess that's worth the five bucks."
『And a tip. Remember—villains don't under-tip their barbers.』
The taxi made a smooth turn, passing under a giant billboard for "SKYRAID: The Luxury Hoverboard Brand for Billionaires."
Jason stared up at it, noticing that the model on the hoverboard wore a suit that didn't look too far off from Anomaly's.
"I'll get there someday," Jason murmured.
『Correction. We'll conquer there someday.』
The HoverNova slowed, descending near a sleek corner shop with a spinning LED sign:
[BladeSpinz Deluxe Barbing Lounge – "Your Head, Our Art."]
Jason stepped out, nodded to the driver, and stood for a moment.
It was a fresh-looking spot with tinted windows and a mural of a lion with a fade.
Inside, barbers wore aprons that looked like tactical vests, and holographic hair previews floated above chairs.
"Okay," Jason muttered. "Time for the glow-up arc."
He squared his shoulders and pushed open the door.
It was time to lose the broke-boy image.
Time to look the part of the Revenant King.
The door chimed softly as Jason stepped into BladeSpinz Deluxe Barbing Lounge.
Clean, neon-accented walls.
Smooth synthwave playing overhead.
A dude in the corner was literally getting a haircut while reading a floating manga, his barber wearing AR glasses and moving like he was in The Matrix.
"Yo!" a voice called from the side.
Jason looked over.
The man waving at him wore a skin-tight sleeveless shirt and black tactical joggers.
His mohawk was sharp enough to qualify as a weapon.
Beard trimmed, expression professional, and movements smoother than a smoothie commercial.
"New face," the man said, grinning. "Name's Marty. I'm your artist today."
Jason gave him a nod. "Yeah, uh… cornrows."
Marty gave a low whistle. "Alright, alright. You got the scalp for it?"
Jason blinked. "Uh… hope so?"
"Sit down, champ. We'll find out."
Jason plopped into the free seat as Marty turned toward the counter, pulling open drawers with cool efficiency — clips, sprays, oils, creams, combs, and brushes, all arranged like a surgeon's tray of scalp weaponry.
The bunny hopped off Jason's shoulder and found a spot near the footrest, giving a long, dramatic stretch before curling up and snoozing.
Marty wrapped a sleek, black barbing cape over Jason, snapping it in place like he was strapping in a fighter jet pilot.
Then —
Click!
A soft mechanical sound as Marty pulled down a visor over his own eyes, displaying a red HUD over Jason's head.
"Alright," Marty said, scanning Jason's scalp with a casual hum. "Let's tame the beast."
Jason gulped.
Marty began with a comb-through — strong hands, swift motions.
He parted Jason's hair with trained precision, picking through curls like he was unweaving chaos itself.
He spritzed some hydrating mist that smelled faintly like mint and thunder.
A screen flickered in front of Jason's face.
『Scalp Hydration Level: 9%. Current Texture: Homeless Hedgehog.』
Jason stared at it. 'Bro you're not even subtle with these insults.'
『Would you prefer honesty or delusion?』
He sighed as Marty began blow-drying and stretching out his hair.
A hot comb glided through the strands, occasionally tugging a little too hard.
"Damn!" Jason flinched.
"Too hot?" Marty asked.
"Nah, nah," Jason lied, gripping the armrest like he was on a rollercoaster through pain.
Another screen popped up.
『Tolerance Level: Paper thin. Pain Resistance: Below Average.』
He flicked it away with his finger.
"Hey man," Marty said, still combing, "you from around here?"
Jason shrugged. "Lower district, yeah. Worked at Frymart until yesterday."
Marty winced. "Damn. Condolences."
Jason nodded solemnly. "I survived the canned bean aisle riots."
Marty barked a laugh. "Respect."
Then came the real work.
Marty's hands moved fast — clean parting lines, sectioning, oiling, and then braiding.
Not lazy YouTube braids either — tight, even, and neat enough to pass inspection from a Wakandan elder.
Jason watched in the mirror as his messy mop started transforming into rows of power. His hair was being disciplined.
A screen hovered into view.
『Hair Structuring: 70% Complete.』
Jason muttered under his breath. "I better look like a damn villain protagonist after this."
Marty chuckled without looking up. "You say something?"
"Nah, just talking to my… bracelet."
"Fair."