America: Starting with Daily Intelligence
Chapter 99 Poor Old George

Chapter 99: Chapter 99 Poor Old George

Leaving the Bridge No. 19 campsite, Allen said goodbye to Sieg and headed alone to the apartment community at No. 126 Wisdom Forest District.

Upon arriving, he discovered there were no guards at the entrance of the community, nor any patrolling officers, and the location was part of a poorer neighborhood.

Allen went straight into the community and began to check the house numbers one by one.

He quickly found Apartment No. 369, a standalone building with a yard, a fence, a lawn, a faucet, and an old pickup truck parked in the garage.

In the front yard, there was a barbecue grill, a sofa, cardboard boxes, a gaming chair, and all sorts of items scattered around.

Allen didn’t disturb the residents or rashly cross into the yard, but instead eagerly rummaged through the old items outside and found a pair of red and white sneakers in a cardboard box, signed by Dr. J.

They were relatively well-preserved.

"Hey! Do you need any help?" The door to the apartment opened, and out walked a tall, skinny boy wearing glasses.

Seeing Allen browsing through the old items, he approached enthusiastically and asked, "Is there anything here you need?"

"Man, I just think this gaming chair is pretty nice. And these sneakers, are you sure you want to throw them out?" replied Allen.

"These sneakers were part of my dad’s collection. I think they were from some Black basketball player? But I’m not too fond of him, I like James. We’re moving out soon, and indeed, this gaming chair is great; it’s been with me for years! If you want it, just take it," said the bespectacled boy optimistically, believing the chair to be more valuable than the sneakers in his perspective.

Allen didn’t know much about gaming chairs, but this one looked to be from the brand Pirate Ship, complete with multi-directional adjustment features. He took out his phone, took a photo, and searched; it seemed to have a retail price of around 500 US dollars.

The second-hand price would be much lower. A used gaming chair for a few years might not even be worth a few dozen dollars.

Such an expensive gaming chair.

What kind of family is this? Could it be a Zero-Dollar Purchase?

"You guys are moving out? For what reason? Is there a problem with this community?" Allen expressed surprise, starting a conversation.

"Nothing of the sort, on the contrary, it’s for a good reason. Do you know about Valorant?" The tall and slim boy smiled slightly. Seeing Allen’s hesitant expression, he pushed his glasses up, "Well, you might not follow the gaming scene much. I’m an FPS game streamer, ranked among the top hundred empowering tiers in the US server, and I recently signed with a professional team and achieved some results in competitions, earning some money. So our family is planning to move to a new house soon. We’re probably not coming back here after that."

"Congratulations, buddy. Such a promising future at a young age!" Allen was happy to congratulate him.

Being born in this sort of hellish environment and managing to make it out of the poor streets, that’s talent right there.

"I wish you a beautiful tomorrow as well," the boy answered cheerfully. "Everything in this house that we can’t take with us is being sold cheaply or given away. If you’re interested, you can pick a few more items to take with you."

"This sneaker is pretty nice," Allen said, shaking the sneaker in his hand. "If I really take it, you’re not going to want it back, right?"

"It’s just a single sneaker. I’ve earned enough money to buy hundreds of these!" The boy laughed. "Are you sure you don’t want this gaming chair? It’s got my autograph on it, and once I become famous, it’s sure to have collector’s value."

"Buddy, you really have confidence!" Allen admired that kind of attitude.

However, he had no talent for gaming and hardly touched competitive games; he just stuck to robbing the garden bank and being a virtuous good guy in Western American Iaido.

"I can’t take this stuff with me right now, maybe I’ll let a friend know to drive over and pick it up? Hopefully, it’s still here by then."

"What’s your gaming name? I’ll look forward to the day you become famous!" Allen said.

"I’ll keep it for you," the boy told Allen his gaming ID.

Allen also followed him on the spot, indicating that he’d definitely watch his matches if he had the chance.

The boy was very pleased and even enthusiastically took photos with Allen, making Allen feel a bit socially awkward.

After saying goodbye to the esports boys, Allen Zhang headed straight to George’s pawnshop, only to discover it was closed.

He searched online and found out George’s pawnshop had also become popular in a short video—robbed by Blacks! A tragic incident with 2 dead and 3 injured ensued.

The perpetrators were a gang of Black people from the neighboring Sixth District, who had already been arrested and imprisoned. George himself was injured by glass and had gone to the hospital for bandaging.

Well, isn’t Texas’s old gambler having a taste of his own medicine? Isn’t this retribution for the villainous merchant?

Allen Zhang clapped his hands in delight, but he could only try his luck at another pawnshop now.

"Welcome to Magic Flute Pawnshop." After searching for a nearby pawnshop on the map, Allen Zhang walked in and saw a pink-haired girl in bizarre attire behind the counter.

One glance, and all he could think was pure evil.

"Saraphine?"

"You recognized me?" the girl said in surprise, then explained, "It’s our boss’s requirement."

"Your boss must be an interesting person," Allen Zhang nodded in agreement. So today is a crazed symphony of salamanders?

"Customer, are you here to sell something? Or to buy?" The shop assistant enthusiastically began to introduce the merchandise in their shop.

History is nonexistent, fame is exaggerated, and the blue-and-white porcelain is fake. Allen Zhang glanced over and wasn’t interested. He took out a sneaker from a cardboard box and introduced, "This is NBA legend Julius Erving’s autographed competition sneaker from the 1970s. I want to sell it here."

The shop assistant picked it up, took a look, took a photo, and sent it, "How much do you want to sell it for?"

"$2,500," Allen Zhang gave a reasonable asking price. After selling so many things, he knew the rules—and besides, this shop might not wield the Dragon Slayer Sword as skillfully as George’s pawnshop.

"$400," the girl casually slashed the price, making Allen Zhang’s scalp tingle.

Allen Zhang’s lips twitched, "I’m not selling."

Damn, this shop is even shadier than old George’s! He was about to leave with the sneaker when the shop assistant quickly tried to retain him, "Customer, we can negotiate if you’re not satisfied with the price!"

"You’re not sincere at all, how can I negotiate?" Allen Zhang was very dissatisfied.

He laid it out directly, "If it weren’t for the neighboring George’s pawnshop being closed for the day, I would never come here to sell!"

The shop assistant fell silent for two seconds, then patiently explained, "This shop is owned by George’s son, and the one who just gave the price is our boss, Mr. George himself."

"..."

Isn’t this a monopoly then!

No wonder it felt familiar.

Allen Zhang never imagined George’s turf was so expansive. He was impressed, "If you can do $2,000, I’ll sell."

"Please wait." The shop assistant picked up her phone for another round of operations, and then said contentedly, "Our boss says, in consideration that you are a regular customer, $2,000 is acceptable for the transaction! And we can’t go any higher."

"Give me the money; I want cash."

Allen Zhang compromised, traded the shoes for money, and for once, George actually behaved decently without further bargaining.

Perhaps the encounter with the Blacks had smoothed his rough edges, and lying in the hospital, his killer instinct wasn’t as intense.

Poor old George, hehe.