City - Julian Rivers: Holy moly… what did I just see?!
Plains - Xander Reynolds: Wow, it's the Legend Smyth again! That food's insane! A true cold killer.
Forest - Howie Wang: ??? Legend Smyth, why didn't you offer this before? I'm so regretful! So dead!
City - Zachary Lexington: What's going on? What food is that? I've never seen it. Have you?
Wasteland - Ethan Gallagher: Legend Smyth, I'm dying! Can you spare some? I've got the Chill.
The regional chat mirrored the World Channel's frenzy. Astonishment at Thomas's miraculous food. The Chill remover. Since yesterday, everyone had felt the bite of the extreme cold. Many were already afflicted, huddled and shivering in their hideouts. This food was a lifeline.
But few possessed rare items or Classified Intelligence. Desperation bred desperation. The darker side of human nature began to surface. Not just on the World Channel, but in the regional chat too. Snide remarks and accusations flew.
Plains - Sandy: Isn't that stew made from the sheep I sold you? A private message from Sandy. Unsurprising.
City - Thomas: Yes.
Plains - Sandy: No wonder you wanted so many! You owe me a cut of your profits!
Thomas laughed. Good thing he'd waited. The trade was complete. She wanted a cut now? Delusional.
City - Thomas: You're dreaming. Did you hit your head while sheep-herding?
Plains - Sandy: You'll regret this!
Thomas smirked. He ignored her, focusing on the legitimate trade offers.
Minutes later, a message from Ben, with a screenshot attached.
Plains - Sandy: This Thomas guy is a rip-off! He got the mutton from me for next to nothing and now he's charging a fortune! No conscience! If I had his resources, I'd offer it cheap, or even give it away! Greedy profiteer!
Ben: Dude, she's bad-mouthing you. Exploiting the one-message-per-day rule.
Thomas checked the World Channel. Sandy had rallied the disgruntled, twisting the narrative. The regional chat followed suit. The tide of public opinion was turning against him.
He noticed something. The most vocal accusers had all sent him trade requests. Hypocrites. Trying to sabotage his sales so they could lowball him later.
*Thomas: You used your World Channel message yet?*
*Ben: Nope.*
Thomas sent Ben some items and a pre-written message.
City - Ben: Bunch of hypocrites. Check the trade logs. See who's really screwing you over. Don't be played. And Legend Smyth asked me to relay this: everyone spreading those lies is blocked. Permanently. And Sandy, you want to help people? Anyone without food can contact you. You've got a massive stockpile, right? [8 screenshots of Thomas and Sandy's trade logs] [6 screenshots of trade requests to Thomas]
Silence. Then, shock. The sheer volume of the mutton trade – over 100 units of food, mostly canned goods and energy bars, plus 40-50 units of precious medical supplies – stunned everyone. A king's ransom. Most survivors barely had 20-30 units of anything. Medical supplies were even scarcer.
The screenshots revealed Sandy's demands and threats. Her greed was exposed. She'd gotten a great deal, then tried to extort more. And now she was playing the victim.
The survivors weren't fooled. They turned on Sandy, their private messages flooding her inbox. The same fate awaited the other instigators, their identities revealed by their trade requests.
Some still tried to guilt-trip Thomas, but the evidence of his massive expenditure silenced them. He'd earned his profit.
The tide turned completely. Public opinion swung back in his favor.
Thomas barely noticed. He'd just wanted to minimize the hassle. He didn't care what they thought. The items were his. His rules. Take it or leave it. He could wait. Could they?
With the troublemakers blocked, the remaining trade requests were manageable. A smile spread across his face.
"Finally."
A trade offer. A red folder filled with papers.
[Classified Intelligence]
Type: Intelligence Item
Size: 2x1
Description: A folder containing various documents. May be useful to certain individuals.
---
"Yes!" He accepted the trade, despite the high price: a bowl of stew and a bottle of amoxicillin. The other survivor was clearly ill. He didn't want to wait. He had plenty of amoxicillin, and the Medical Station could make more.
He held the folder, a wave of relief washing over him. It had been a long time coming.
He gathered the remaining components for the Intelligence Center. He selected a location. Construction began.
The construction screen displayed a 24-hour timer. 1:30 PM. Tomorrow, Day Seven, at 1:30 PM, it would be complete. He was practically vibrating with anticipation, but all he could do was wait. He hadn't been this excited about anything in a long time.
The morning's work had left him hungry. He skipped the stew, opting for heated milk and beef jerky. He replenished the fireplace, then stretched out on the heated kang, falling asleep.
The World Channel had moved on from Sandy, back to trading and complaining. The City survivors were struggling, especially those with underground hideouts. Not everyone had upgraded their security doors to Level 2 with waterproofing like Thomas. Their hideouts were flooded, freezing in the sub-zero temperatures.
"They're not going to last," he thought grimly.
He stored the newly crafted stew. Despite the evidence of his expenses, few were offering rare items. Mostly common supplies. He wasn't worried. He had time.
He restocked the kitchen with stew ingredients, maximizing the crafting queue. Enough to last until morning. He did the same for the Medical Station, appreciating the auto-stacking feature.
Time passed. 10:00 PM. A red dot appeared on the map, moving from the Crimson Cabaret towards Garden Station through the subway tunnels.
"Huh?" Thomas was instantly alert. Something was wrong.