North American colony, Governor's Office.
Sitting in the chair that originally belonged to Zhou Guoping, Black Skull put his feet on the desk, picked his teeth with a toothpick, and played with the badge in his hand under the sunlight from the window.
The bronze badge glowed with a faint golden edge under the sunlight. The three letters NAC, as well as a sword and a shield, were clearly visible. Black Skull didn't know what this badge symbolized, and he didn't want to guess. He had taken it off the captain's body and considered it an interesting loot.
Black Skull stuffed the badge into his pocket and yawned lazily.
There was no dry sand, no deadly poisonous scorpions, only a slightly salty sea breeze and warm sunlight. He had never dreamed of such a comfortable life, but now it was incomparably real.
The entire container was filled with canned food and compressed biscuits, and the hills of rice and potatoes were piled up. The abundance of supplies even made him think of the extravagant idea of "using some of the food to make wine", but he couldn't find anyone skilled in this field, so he gave up on the idea.
As for the NAC that might cause him trouble …
To be honest, he was not very afraid of those Asians.
He admitted that they were powerful. When they used their full strength, even the National Guard had to admit defeat. However, he was also confident that he was the local boss here, and he was the one with the biggest fist.
Even if the NAC army marched to North America to settle the score with him, who could find him if he hid in the desert of Nevada? He had prepared four to five abandoned shelters to hide in.
Just then, there was a knock on the door.
"Come in."
His inept advisor, the crippled Beals, and the muscular Slavic man with the mohawk, Rodney, came in. One of them became the mayor of Outpost Town, and the other became the police officer of Outpost Town, in charge of logistics and slaves.
Naturally, he, the Black Skull, was the biggest one.
As for what title to give himself, he hadn't thought about it yet.
"The Mud Crab breeding base has been cleaned up. How do you think the heads of those Asians grew? Why didn't anyone think of raising this thing before?" Rodney touched the tuft of hair on his head and wondered.
Before the group of Asians came to North America, no one had ever tried the crab roe of the Mud Crabs. Most people's choice of food was either nutrient supply with all kinds of strange ingredients or beef from the double-headed Brahman cow that tasted like sand.
No one would have thought that under the hard shell that was stronger than the power armor, there was such a delicacy hidden.
Of course, the opposite of delicious food was fatal danger.
While cleaning the pond where the Mud Crabs were bred, Lodney saw several slaves being dragged into the water and bitten to death by the powerful crabs. Even he couldn't help but feel his scalp tingle when he saw their miserable deaths.
"I don't care how their brains grow, I only care about when my farm can resume production," Black Skull said with a yawn, disapproving of Rodney's puzzlement. From his point of view, no matter how smart and creative those yellow-skinned monkeys were, they would still end up as his wedding dress. He was the wisest and strongest person on this wasteland. There was no doubt about that.
"It has been restored. I have arranged twenty slaves inside. Whoever is lazy will be fed to the crabs." Rodney grinned and smiled cruelly.
"What about your side?" Black Skull looked at Beals and said lazily, "Have all the supplies been counted?"
"It has been counted, and all the supplies are recorded on it." Beals flipped the account book in his hand to the table of contents and handed it to the boss respectfully. "Converted into bottle caps, these supplies are worth at least 70 million. You are already the richest man on the West Coast."
"Hahaha." Dry laughter filled the room. Black Skull, who had laughed enough, sat down on the chair again.
He was quite satisfied with the title of "rich man", especially after adding the prefix of "richest", it made him more satisfied than ever.
Looking at the account book in his hand, Black Skull nodded repeatedly and praised, "Good job, very good."
"We have plenty of supplies now. I suggest we take some canned food to Liberty City to exchange for arms and slaves." While the boss was happy, Beals grinned and suggested while the iron was hot, "We must be prepared early. The National Guard will come to us sooner or later, and there are also NAC's people. We looted their entire freighter."
"Slaves?" Black Skull picked his ear and waved his hand disapprovingly. "Those things are everywhere. Why do we need to exchange them with canned food? Rodney, you take a couple of truckloads of our boys and go round town, catch some men who can do the work, and get me a couple of Caucasian horses. "
"Okay, boss, leave it to me," Rodney said excitedly with a bloodthirsty light in his eyes.
He had been watching the slaves work for the past few days, and he was bored to death.
Deep down, he was a warmonger. Although the life here was comfortable, it was not the life that he, Rodney, wanted. Only plundering and killing could make him feel joy from the bottom of his heart. Only then could he feel at ease.
Seeing this, a bitter smile appeared on Beals' face. He sighed in his mind that his boss was destined not to become a warlord. Even if NAC left him an entire city, it would become a fortress for raiders in his hands. Once NAC's legacy was squandered, they would most likely have to return to the desert.
Beals still wanted to say something, but he finally closed his mouth and retreated with his head down.
Although his boss occasionally listened to opinions, when it came to matters of principle, there was no way to persuade him. From him, all the shortcomings of black people could be found, such as laziness, stubbornness, stupidity, and never thinking about tomorrow …
If it was before the war, this kind of idiot would definitely starve to death in the slums.
But there was no other way. Now it was the apocalypse, and this was the wasteland. Violence was the only rule. Whoever had the bigger fist could be the boss …
…
On the other side, Jiang Chen returned to Santa Monica Airport with his guards before the sun set. As soon as he walked into the airport building, he saw two overseers, who had been recruited, dragging two corpses out of the ticket gate.
Judging from the tattoos on the bodies, most of them were raiders planning to escape.
Jiang Chen didn't need to be polite to the raiders who tried to harm him. He had already instructed his guard captain and Han Yue that if they encountered a disobedient leader, there was no need to talk nonsense and just kill them.
Walking into the waiting room, Zheng Shanhe was sitting on a chair, holding a map and studying it. Jessica marked all the survivor settlements, raider camps, and even fallout shelters she knew on the map of Los Angeles attached to the airport brochure.
When he saw the general come in, he immediately put away the map, stood up, and saluted.
"How's the situation on the runway?"
When Zheng Shanhe heard Jiang Chen's question, he immediately reported to Jiang Chen, "After a few disobedient leaders were killed, those foreigners are much more obedient. Now the runway has been repaired by 40%. If we work overnight, it should be no problem to repair it by noon tomorrow."
"Very good." Jiang Chen nodded.
Looking at the people squatting in the corner of the waiting room, Zheng Shanhe then asked Jiang Chen, "What should we do with those people? Do we have to bear their rations all the time? "
"In a while, you call them downstairs and ask if they are willing to work for NAC. If they are willing to stay, they will be given three nutrient supplies a day. After two months, we can discuss the treatment. If they are not willing, they can leave. Don't be a hindrance here. "
The price of three nutrient supplies ranged from five to ten bottle caps. Most survivors could barely fill their stomachs with two a day. For these poor people who didn't even know what to eat next, this treatment was very generous.
Originally, according to the rules on the wasteland, NAC destroyed the Airport Gang, and these captives who originally belonged to the Airport Gang would continue to be slaves as NAC's spoils of war. Now that NAC was willing to discuss treatment with them, they would most likely kneel down in gratitude.
After incorporating these fifty or so people and arming them with a few guns, it wouldn't be a problem at all to form a cannon fodder troop.
"I'll go now."
"Wait a minute, there's no hurry." Jiang Chen stopped Zheng Shanhe, who was about to walk to the wall, found a chair to sit down, and continued, "I have more important things to discuss with you."
Returning to Jiang Chen's side, Zheng Shanhe respectfully waited for Jiang Chen's next words.
"I plan to take the colony back from Black Skull. According to Han Yue, they should have a lot of our captives in their hands, and these people are likely to be alive. And the supplies that were taken away by them are simply a waste in their hands. "
"Just the few of us?" Zheng Shanhe took a moment to process this, and his forehead began to sweat. "This is too risky. Let's wait for the expeditionary army to come …"
"For the expeditionary army to land in North America, it will take at least a month, and by then, they will use the captives as hostages, and the problem will become more troublesome." Looking at Zheng Shanhe who wanted to say something, Jiang Chen smiled and said, "And, who told you it's just the few of us?"
You've already exceeded your reading limit for today. If you want to read more, please log in.
Login
Select text and click 'Report' to let us know about any bad translation.
