America: Starting with Daily Intelligence
Chapter 156 - 128: Beasts

Chapter 156: Chapter 128: Beasts

Allen Zhang got the money and the receipt from old George, his entire fortunes now amounting to $29,831. His backpack was so stuffed he even considered getting a bank card.

Having left the pawnshop, he drove his pickup truck back towards the bridge tunnel camp.

At a stoplight, while waiting for it to change, he spotted a street performer band and immediately recognized Sandy, the lead singer with blue-dyed hair, sitting on a suitcase, a dog tethered to her side.

He waved out the window to get her attention. She noticed him, smiled, and waved back.

Allen didn’t linger. As soon as the light turned green, he stepped on the gas and left the street behind.

Two blocks away from reaching the camp, Jennifer sent him a message.

Jennifer: Some drug junkies from the neighboring camp came looking for you, said they want to discuss something.

Allen: What’s their attitude like?

Jennifer: Pretty good. But they seem to be in bad shape, like they’ve been beaten up.

Allen: I’ll be right back.

In a few minutes, he was back at the bridge tunnel headquarters, parking the pickup on the side of the road.

Getting out of the car, he saw familiar figures at the camp. Jennifer was sitting under the awning of a camper, dressed in a light tank top and shorts, her legs crossed, sporting sunglasses, holding a magazine, with a chilled plum juice on the table beside her.

"Life’s treating you well, huh?"

Her relaxed demeanor hardly resembled that of a homeless person, more so like a bored affluent star on a camper van vacation!

It took Allen a while to figure out which one in the crowd was Feis Modern.

Their group looked battered and bruised, unrecognizable even to their own mothers.

Feis Modern’s leg was tightly wrapped up like a mummy, sprawled on a stretcher needing support to move, yet never leaving his cigarettes aside.

Isn’t he the boss of block 9 bridge tunnel camp? What happened to him in just a few days?

Feis Modern, holding a cigarette, took a deep drag, felt a bit dizzy, and greeted with his only functioning hand, "Hey! Buddy! How’s it been lately?"

"Pretty good, I’ve been making money every day since taking over your turf. What about you? Seems like you’re not doing so well."

Allen was clueless why this guy, whom he had beaten up, came seeking help from a former rival.

They were still competitors, and just a few days ago, Beggar Gang snatched their territory, yet this guy didn’t seem to care at all. Was he that indifferent?

It must be the epitome of apathy, a trademark of the West Coast fun-seekers.

"Not just bad, I almost didn’t make it to see you, buddy! Those Mexicans are downright cruel, I tried dealing with them, and they played tricks on me, not only did they trick me, but they also took advantage of their numbers and beat us up!" Feis immediately started to rant in his rapper tone.

"Boss, when have we not been beaten up following you?" a white homeless man with panda eyes pointed at his scarred ear, "Look, my earring got torn during a fight with them just a few days ago!"

...

Allen watched their pitiful plea unchanged and emotionless, almost on the verge of laughter.

"What are you doing here, Feis Modern? We might be in the same line, but you’re no honest man, stepping on my turf without permission. I have every reason to beat you up again." Allen showed no sympathy for his pitiful state.

"Come on! I can barely walk in this condition! How could I possibly cause you trouble!" Feis Modern said, somewhat bitterly, "I was already disabled, and now I’ve broken a leg, I can only rely on a wheelchair for the next two months. Luckily, I have painkillers and cigarettes for solace!"

"As I see it, you were the one who broke the rules first. You sold your subpar ice on the streets without those Mexicans’ consent, getting your peers in trouble. You deserved that beating. If it were me, I’d have thrown you into a blender, ground you up, and used you as fertilizer for the countryside!"

Allen bluntly exposed his lie.

Seeing that his grievance gained no traction, Feis turned serious and said, "I want to make a deal with you."

"No drugs."

Allen pulled up a chair and sat down.

After a brief silence, organizing his thoughts, Feis finally spoke, "Hanberger Juan Jin, don’t you want to monopolize the Fifth Street streets entirely, to become the undisputed boss of the scavengers of Fifth District?"

"Currently, among the well-known scavenger teams on the streets, you’ve already absorbed one and crippled another, only a bunch of tailless dogs living in unfinished buildings and those small teams holding a few streets are left. Don’t you want to take their turf as well?"

"No. My territory is big enough already." Allen said insincerely.

"No! Buddy, you do! You’ll eventually do it because I’ve never misjudged a person! Those homeless who can’t even afford a meal every day have no chance against your temptation. If you’re not doing it now, it’s only because your income doesn’t entirely depend on the can collections, your subordinates are the ones who rely on them. You know exactly what kind of people they are, why they ended up this way, just give them a little of what they need, and they’ll gladly follow you." Feis struck a chord with his words.