At the northeastern corner of Wasteland Camp, beside the camp occupied by the intact transport aircraft HG-01156, stood a semi-permanent steel warehouse welded together from scrap metal plates. Beside its warehouse doors, several large crooked words had been scrawled:—Logistics Supplies Exchange.
That's right!
This was currently the only quartermaster station in Wasteland Camp, and also the place where players could exchange supplies.
Unlike the bustling and lively logistics office for recovered supplies two kilometers away, this exchange station was exceptionally quiet. Sometimes, an entire day would pass without a single player coming by.
That was hardly surprising. This was where military rations, C-14 Spike Rifles, and ammunition were exchanged. For the current players, rifles costing tens of thousands and food and ammunition costing hundreds apiece were not things ordinary people could afford to exchange for or consume!
Furthermore, the quartermaster responsible for exchanging cold weapons and ordinary steel armor had already moved beside that logistics office for recovered supplies, so this place naturally became deserted.
Of course, whether that had anything to do with the five players who had successfully stolen firearms before was a matter of opinion.
In short!
At present, the middle-aged noncommissioned officer sitting at the warehouse entrance—a man in his forties with the rank of corporal—was the person in charge here.
He was one of the most relaxed and idle staff members in the camp. He did not need to stand guard, patrol, or help build the command center that was being rushed to completion. Every day, he only needed to make himself a cup of tea, then sit there all day without having to worry about anything.
After all, the current players were all a bunch of paupers. They could not afford rifles, ammunition, or even the camp's military rations and other "fine provisions," could