Chapter 1,392 Who Told You There Were only a Few of Us?

North American Colonies, Governor's Mansion.

Sitting on the boss's chair that originally belonged to Zhou Guoping, Black Skeleton put his feet up on the desk, picking his teeth with a toothpick and playing with the badge on his hand in the sunlight from the window.

The bronze badge has a faint gold edge in the sunlight, and the three letters NAC, as well as a sword and a shield can be clearly seen on it. It’s not clear what the black skull this badge symbolizes, and I don’t want to guess. He took this from the captain and thought it was an interesting trophy.

He stuffed the medal into his pocket and yawned lazily.

There was no dry sand, no deadly poisonous scorpions, just the salty sea breeze and the warm sunshine. He had never dreamed of such a comfortable life, but now it was extremely real.

An entire container was filled with cans and compressed biscuits, and mountains of rice and potatoes were piled up. The supplies were so plentiful that he even had the extravagant idea of ​​"moving some of the grain to make wine." But he couldn't find anyone who was good at this. That’s when he gave up.

As for the NAC that might cause trouble for him...

To be honest, he was not very afraid of those yellow people.

He admitted that they were very powerful and even the National Guard had to bow to them when they used their full strength. However, he is also confident that he is the local snake here, and he is also the one with particularly big fists.

Even if they take ten thousand steps back, the NAC army marches to North America specifically to settle accounts with him, a little ant. If he hides in the Nevada desert, who can find him? He had prepared four or five abandoned shelters for hiding.

At this moment, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

The ones who came in through the door were his dog-headed strategist, the lame Biers, and the strong Slavic man with a mohawk, Rodney. One of the two became the mayor of Outpost Town, and the other became the police officer of Outpost Town, in charge of logistics and slaves.

And his black skull is naturally the biggest one.

As for what specific title he should give himself, he hasn't decided yet.

"The mud crab breeding base has been sorted out. How do you think those yellow people's heads grow? Why has no one thought of raising these things in captivity before?" Rodney touched the tuft of hair on his head. He said somewhat puzzled.

Before those yellow people came to North America, no one had ever tried the roe of a mud crab. When it comes to food choices, most people either choose nutritional mixtures with strange ingredients or beef from two-headed Brahman cows that taste like sand when chewed.

No one expected that such a delicious food was hidden under the hard shell that was stronger than power armor.

Of course, the opposite of delicious is fatal danger.

While cleaning the pond where mire crabs were raised, Rodney watched as several slaves were dragged down into the water and bitten to death by those powerful crabs. Even seeing the miserable death made his scalp numb.

"No matter how long their heads are, I only care about when my breeding farm can resume production." Black Skull said to Hatcher, dismissing Rodney's confusion. In his opinion, no matter how smart and creative those yellow-skinned monkeys are, they will eventually become his wedding dress. He is the wisest and strongest one in this wasteland, there is no doubt about it.

"It has been restored. I have arranged twenty slaves inside, and whoever is lazy will feed the crabs.

Rodney grinned and said with a cruel smile.

"Where are you?" Black Skeleton looked at Biers and said lazily, "Have you finished counting all the supplies?"

"The inventory has been completed, and all the supplies are recorded on it." As he said that, Biers turned the account book in his hand to the directory 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, and the black skull, who had had enough laughter, sat firmly on the chair again.

He was quite satisfied with the title "rich man", especially after adding the prefix "richest", which made him more satisfied than ever before.

Looking through the account book in his hand, Black Skull nodded repeatedly and praised, "Well done, very good."

"We have plenty of supplies now. I suggest taking some of the cans to Liberty City and exchanging them for arms and slaves." While the boss was happy, Biers grinned and suggested while the iron was hot, "We must make preparations early. Sooner or later, the National Guard will come to trouble us, as well as the NAC people, and we looted their entire cargo ship."

"Slave?" Black Skull picked his ears and waved his hand disapprovingly, "Those kind of things are everywhere, why exchange them for cans? Rodney, you will take a few truckloads of brothers around the city later. , grab some who can work, and get me some big horses back by the way."

"Okay boss, take care of me." Rodney said excitedly with a bloodthirsty glint in his eyes.

He has been watching the slaves work these days, and he has already been so idle that his balls ached.

At heart, he is a militant. Although life here is comfortable, it is not the life he wants. Only looting and killing can make him feel happy from the bottom of his heart and make him feel comfortable.

Seeing this, Biers couldn't help but have a wry smile on his face, sighing inwardly that he, the boss, seemed destined not to become a warlord. Even if the NAC left him an entire city, it would become a fortress for looters in his hands. When NAC's legacy is squandered, they will probably have to retreat to the desert.

Biers wanted to say something else, but finally closed his mouth, lowered his head and retreated.

Although I, the boss, can occasionally listen to my opinions, when it comes to issues of principle, I can't persuade him at all. From him, you can find all the shortcomings of black people, such as laziness, stubbornness, stupidity, and never thinking about tomorrow...

If it had been before the war, this idiot would have starved to death in the slums.

But there is no way, now is the end of the world, this is a wasteland, violence is the only criterion, whoever has a bigger fist will be the boss...

…

On the other side, Jiang Chen returned to Santa Monica Airport with his personal guards before the sun went down. When he just walked into the airport building, he happened to see two recruited supervisors walking out of the ticket gate carrying two corpses.

Judging from the tattoos on the corpse, it was probably a predator planning to escape.

Jiang Chen has nothing to be polite about those predators who try to use their crooked ideas on himself. He had already asked the captain of his personal guard to explain to Han Yue that if you encounter a disobedient thorn, don't talk nonsense and just kill him directly.

Entering the waiting room, Zheng Shanhe was sitting on a chair, holding a map and studying it. Jessica marked all the survivor colonies, predator camps, and even shelters she knew on the map of Los Angeles that came with the airport brochure.

When he saw the marshal coming in, he immediately put away the map, stood up and gave a military salute.

"How's the situation over there on the runway?"

Upon hearing Jiang Chen's inquiry, Zheng Shanhe immediately reported to Jiang Chen, "We have killed a few disobedient thorns. Those ghost guys are much more honest. Now 40% of the runway has been repaired. If we work overnight, we can It should be fine if it’s fixed by noon tomorrow.”

"Very good." Jiang Chen nodded.

Glancing at the people squatting in the corner of the waiting room, Zheng Shanhe then asked Jiang Chen for instructions, "What to do with those people? Do we have to bear their food rations?"

"After a while, you call them downstairs to lecture them and ask them if they are willing to work for NAC. Those who are willing to stay will manage three nutritional supplements a day and will discuss their salary after working for two months. Those who are not willing can leave on their own. Don’t get in the way here.”

The price of three nutritional mixtures ranges from five to ten bottles. Most survivors can barely fill their stomachs with two bottles a day. For these poor people who have not yet had their next meal, this treatment can be considered very conscientious. .

Originally, according to the rules of the wasteland, NAC destroyed the Airport Gang. These prisoners who originally belonged to the Airport Gang will continue to be slaves as NAC's spoils. Now that NAC is willing to negotiate treatment with them, most of them will kneel down and sing conquest with gratitude.

After recruiting about fifty people and arming them with a few guns, there will be no problem at all in gathering a cannon fodder unit.

"I'll go now."

"We'll go back later, it's not urgent," he called Zheng Shanhe, who was about to walk towards the wall. Jiang Chen found a chair and sat down, and continued, "I have more important things. I need to discuss it with you."

Returning to Jiang Chen's side, Zheng Shanhe respectfully waited for Jiang Chen's next words.

"I plan to take back the colony from the hands of the Black Skull. According to Han Yue, they should have many of our prisoners in their hands, and there is a high probability that these people are still alive. There are also the supplies that were kidnapped by them. What a waste on their hands.”

"Just the few of us?" Zheng Shanhe was stunned for a moment, sweating on his forehead and said, "This is too risky, we should wait for the expeditionary force to come..."

"When the expeditionary force lands in North America, it will have to wait until a month at the earliest, and by then they will hold the prisoners in front as hostages, and the problem will become more difficult." Looking at Zheng Shanhe who was hesitant to speak, Jiang Chen smiled and continued, "Besides, who told you there are only a few of us?"

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