[Lighting] Level 2
Type: Hideout Facility
Effect: Provides basic lighting for the hideout.
Next Stage: [Lighting] Level 3
Upgrade Requirements: [Lighting] Level 2, [Generator] Level 2, LEDs x15, Capacitors x10, Wires x6, Light Switches x5.
Upgrade Time: 90 minutes
Upgrade requirements met. Upgrade now?
[Ventilation - Safe] Level 2
Type: Hideout Facility
Effect: Ventilation performance +40%, indoor hazardous gas expulsion rate +30%.
Next Stage: [Ventilation] Level 3
Upgrade Requirements: [Generator] Level 2, [Ventilation] Level 2, Fans x4, Motors x4, Wires x14, PCB Chips x5, Assorted Parts x5, Battery x1.
Upgrade Time: 120 minutes
Upgrade requirements met. Upgrade now?
Thomas immediately confirmed.
[YES]
A shimmering light enveloped the lighting and ventilation systems, signaling the start of the upgrades.
The other two facilities, the Refugee Treasure Chest and Level 3 Hideout Security, required a Level 2 Intel Center and Level 3 Lighting, respectively. He'd have to wait for the lighting upgrade to finish before enhancing the security.
After a quick wash, he replenished the fireplace wood and the mutton stew ingredients in the kitchen. He then headed to the heated sleeping platform. The temperature had plummeted. Despite the constantly burning fireplace, the hideout was nearing freezing.
Bundled in a thick wool pajama set, Thomas placed lit logs into the fire pit and waited. Ten minutes later, the pit radiated a noticeable warmth. He pulled the thick quilt over himself and drifted off to sleep.
Past 10 PM, Sparrow City was a maelstrom of snow and wind. Ping-pong ball-sized snowflakes, driven by the gale, sliced through the air like tiny blades. Trees groaned and snapped under the relentless assault. The temperature had plunged to -50°C, burying the city under a meter of snow.
The four hundred or so surviving residents of the White Tower District huddled in their hideouts, shivering against the cold. Some burned everything flammable, desperate to survive the brutal night.
Ben Walker, however, clad in a bearskin coat, observed the distant 4S dealership through night vision binoculars. He munched on a ramen brick, his confusion growing.
"Strange. Why is Legend Smyth so interested in this place? Specifically asking me to keep watch tonight."
"Well, it's a chance to help him…" He tossed the ramen aside, gripping the binoculars with both hands, his focus sharpening.
The world through the lenses was bathed in an eerie green, turning night into day. Two figures, bundled in heavy winter coats, emerged from the shadows. They dragged a wooden plank bearing a corpse across the snow, cautiously scanning their surroundings. The deep snow hampered their movements as they made their way towards the 4S dealership entrance.
The refugees usually patrolling the perimeter had retreated inside due to the blizzard. No one expected anyone to be out in this weather. The two figures, taking advantage of the empty streets and the cover of the swirling snow, slipped through the dealership's doors.
Ben lost sight of them, but figured they'd reappear soon. He waited patiently.
Ten minutes later, just as his arms began to ache from holding the binoculars, the figures emerged. The corpse was gone. They meticulously erased their tracks in the snow before disappearing into the blizzard.
Ben stared, dumbfounded. "What the hell…?" His mind raced. What was the meaning of that? Dump a body and run? Could this be what Legend Smyth wanted to know? Remembering his instructions, he quickly messaged Thomas.
Meanwhile, The Butcher, observing through his own telescope, saw the prearranged light signal from his men.
"Mission accomplished. Proceed as planned!" he cackled. "Now let's see how Mad Dog and Ghostface react." He winked at a subordinate, who nodded and vanished into the blizzard on skis.
Thomas, roused by Ben's message notification, had only slept for a few hours. Seeing the sender and the time – 11:05 PM, almost exactly as the intel predicted – he knew the show was about to begin.
[Ben Walker: Legend Smyth, holy crap… you won't believe what I just saw…]
After hearing the full account, Thomas drew a sharp breath.
"I need to eliminate The Butcher. He's a snake, and he can't know about me." That was his first thought. The Butcher wasn't just treacherous, constantly plotting against his own boss; he was downright ruthless. Thomas almost preferred Mad Dog, who seemed genuinely lost without his underlings.
[Thomas Smyth: Good work. Stay sharp. There should be a fight at the 4S dealership tonight. Keep me updated.]
He traded Ben three bowls of Invigorated Nourishing Mutton Stew. You had to feed the mule if you wanted it to grind.
Ben, delighted by the stew, accepted without hesitation. He still had two bowls from before, but he wouldn't refuse such a valuable commodity. He was starting to understand Thomas's ways.
[Ben Walker: You got it, Legend Smyth! Should I call you when the fight starts? Any specific instructions?]
Thomas frowned, considering.
[Thomas Smyth: No need to call. Just tell me the casualty count of the attacking side after it's over.]
Ending the conversation and disabling Ben's message notifications, Thomas went back to sleep. The outcome was all he needed to know. Given The Butcher's character, he'd undoubtedly instigate a conflict between Mad Dog and Caban, the leader of the 4S dealership refugees. It was all part of his plan. And it played right into Thomas's hands.
Regardless of who won, both sides would suffer losses. Especially in this extreme weather, any serious injury in the open was practically a death sentence. He actually hoped Mad Dog's forces would be decimated. It would create the perfect opportunity to infiltrate the Trading Center. The greater Mad Dog's losses, the better his chances.
Silently thanking The Butcher, Thomas drifted off to sleep, murmuring, "You sneaky bastard, I owe you one."
Meanwhile, Ben pondered Thomas's final message. "What does he mean?" Focus on the attackers? Did Thomas have a grudge against them? A plan? Or…
A chilling possibility struck him. "Holy… could this all be orchestrated by Legend Smyth? Is his goal to spark a conflict between these two factions?" He was startled by his own deduction.
"But that doesn't make sense. He only learned about the refugees at the 4S dealership this afternoon. He sounded like he'd received intel about tonight's events and wanted me to confirm it."
"But his message did show a strong interest in the attacking force. His next move must be related to them. That's why he wants the casualty count – to plan accordingly."
As a specially trained operative for the base city, Ben's analytical skills were sharp. He'd pieced together the truth from a few seemingly innocuous messages. If Thomas knew about Ben's deductions, he'd probably be impressed.
Understanding the situation, a grin spread across Ben's face. "Looks like the more casualties the attackers suffer, the easier Legend Smyth's job will be." He raised his binoculars again, a daring idea forming in his mind.
Inside the Sparrow City Trading Center, on the twentieth floor, Mad Dog and Ghostface, shrouded in shadow, stood facing each other, their faces grim.
"Still haven't found Stephen?" Ghostface rasped, his voice laced with barely suppressed fury. His gaze bored into Mad Dog. His suspicion had reached a boiling point.
Black Dog's sudden death had been a shock. Black Dog was cautious, never one to put himself in harm's way. His entire twenty-man squad being wiped out meant someone had planned it meticulously. And Mad Dog was the prime suspect. Black Dog had always resented Mad Dog, often ignoring his orders. He only tolerated him because of their boss. But did that mean he harbored no resentment? A man who betrayed his former leader to become chief… Ghostface didn't believe Mad Dog was one to turn the other cheek.
And now, Stephen, their boss's younger brother, who was under Mad Dog's protection, had been kidnapped. This cemented Ghostface's suspicions. Only their boss, Black Dog, and Mad Dog knew Stephen's location. Even the guards were assigned directly by their boss. Ghostface himself only knew Stephen was somewhere in the White Tower District.
Their boss was away, Black Dog was dead, Stephen was kidnapped, and his guards were killed. All signs pointed to Mad Dog. Ghostface could barely contain his killing intent.
Mad Dog, sensing the palpable hostility, subtly reached behind him, towards his Colt Python revolver. A glint of malice flashed in his downcast eyes. The tension in the room crackled.
Just as the situation threatened to explode, the door burst open. A subordinate froze, taking in the scene, then turned to Mad Dog with a look of triumph.
"Boss, we found a trace of the guy from the Pinewood Hotel!"
Both Mad Dog and Ghostface snapped their heads towards the newcomer.
"Where?" they demanded simultaneously.
The subordinate, flustered by their intensity, stammered, his gaze darting between them. They stared at each other, then back at him, their expressions a mixture of urgency and interrogation.
Sensing the charged atmosphere, the subordinate blurted out what he knew.
"So, someone from Caban's group took Stephen? Is that it?" Mad Dog asked, his voice heavy.
"Yes! The guy's outside. I brought him up!"
Mad Dog and Ghostface rushed out. A man, his face pale with cold, his lips blue, stood shivering uncontrollably. A medic-looking refugee withdrew a thermometer, checking the reading.
"Boss, he's got a high fever. Needs treatment fast."
Ghostface, ignoring Mad Dog, strode towards the man, pulling open his shirt to reveal a gunshot wound on his right chest, already scabbed over.
"This wound is at least three or four days old!"
Mad Dog, recognizing the man's face, exclaimed, "You… you were one of Stephen's guards!"
Ghostface finally realized this was the man who disappeared with Stephen from the Pinewood Hotel. Hearing Mad Dog's voice, the man's clouded consciousness began to clear. He gasped, struggling to speak.
"Hurry… 4S dealership… Caban took… Mr. Zhou… danger…"