The third day after the disaster.
Washington Police Station.
Mike dragged his legs into the hall. His uniform was still stained with burn marks from Xenomorph's strong acid, and his trouser legs were corroded with a row of holes.
He had a written resignation letter in his pocket.
After working as a patrol officer for twelve years, my partner was torn apart by Xenomorph for protecting civilians during the disaster. The police department gave me a funeral subsidy of US$1,200, and I couldn't even afford a coffin.
His wife has diabetes and is running out of insulin.
The two children were waiting for dinner, and there was less than $200 left in his account. He was planning to resign and work as a security guard in the black market.
Pushing open the hall, what comes into view is a long line of people.
Mike was stunned.
There were several people in DYB uniforms sitting behind the counter, with a mountain of cash piled in front of them.
The police officers were holding the signature forms, and their faces were as relaxed as he had ever seen in the past few days.
After waiting in line for almost twenty minutes, it was finally Mike's turn.
Opposite him is a Chinese girl who looks like an international student. She speaks fluent English and can skillfully retrieve his duty records and salary.
"Officer Mike, during the disaster, he worked a total of 78 hours of overtime. Calculated at twice the hourly rate, the total is 3,744 US dollars."
"Cash distribution, please sign here. This money will go through the donation channel without paying taxes."
Mike is holding a thick stack of US dollars, his fingers are shaking.
He first counted out enough money to buy three months of insulin and carefully stuffed it into his inner pocket. He clenched the remaining bills so tightly that his knuckles turned white from the exertion.
After standing for a few seconds, he took out the crumpled resignation letter from his pocket, tore it into pieces in front of the girl at the counter, and threw it into the trash can next to him.
That afternoon, all 26 police officers from the Washington Police Department who were planning to resign tore up their resignation letters.
This is the third day after the disaster. The order of Washington is being re-established with Fu Haoran as the core.
Washington National Guard temporary residence.
Riley walked into the tent with red eyes, holding the dog tags of his comrades tightly in his arms.
His subordinate and comrade-in-arms in the same team were torn apart by Xenomorph while covering the retreat of civilians outside Triple Alliance Building.
The military concluded that the death was "accidental in non-combat conditions" and only approved funeral expenses of US$12,000, which was not even enough to buy a decent cemetery.
The wife of a comrade-in-arms just gave birth to a child, and the mortgage loan is still 280,000 US dollars. The bank has issued a notice of repossession, and she will soon live on the street with her child.
He visited the Military Affairs Office for three days, but what he always got was a cold "Does not meet the standards for recognition of death in action." The officer from the Military Affairs Office pushed a copy of the "Details of Death in Action Recognition" in front of him, with three red lines circled in red pen:
"First, he must die on the spot."
"Your comrade died after being dragged into Xenomorph's lair, so it doesn't count."
"Second, it must be directly caused by the enemy."
"There are no witnesses at the scene to confirm which Xenomorph killed it. It is doubtful."
"Third, the identity must be verifiable."
"The body cannot be recovered. The dog tag can only prove that he was wearing it, not that he was killed in action."
The officer pulled the document back.
"If the three conditions are not met, use Xenomorph's head to issue a certificate, or let your comrade come back to life to fill out the form yourself, otherwise it can only be treated as an accidental death."
Riley clutched his comrade's dog tag and didn't know how to explain it to his brother's family.
After learning that the Asian general was paying overtime pay, Riley planned to try his luck.
"Fake, what kind of beast came up with this condition?" Jimmy couldn't help but cursed after hearing what happened to Riley.
He opened the filing cabinet and took out a stack of standard documents that had already been printed - "Federation Emergency Military Operation Combat Mission Certification" and "Hostile Force Death Site Inspection Report". Fu Haoran's major general title and authorization seal had already been printed at the signature desk.
Picking up a pen, he filled in the name, unit number, time and place of death of his comrades on the document. The cause of death column clearly stated: During the anti-alien invasion military operation authorized by Federation, he was attacked by hostile alien biological fire and died heroically.
Jimmy photographed the document in front of Riley and stamped it with the official seal of the emergency headquarters.
"Don't worry, take this document and go to the Pensions Office of the Ministry of National Defense."
"The one-time pension of US$100,000 for those who died in battle, the monthly living allowance for your comrade's wife and children, and the full reduction of the outstanding mortgage loan will not be less."
Riley was stunned. He had been a soldier and had been to Afghanistan. He knew how difficult it was to get a death certificate, and no officer was willing to waste time for the life and death of his subordinates.
Riley came here this time. He actually didn't have any hope. He just wanted to see if he could apply for a few hundred dollars more in relief funds to help his comrade's wife survive this month. But the result now was something he couldn't even imagine.
"Sir, the military said this is not a military operation..."
"Whether it counts or not, it's not them who have the final say, it's General Fu who has the final say." Jimmy pointed to the major general's signature on the document, "The entire emergency command power of Washington rests with General Fu."
"He said this is a combat mission, and this is a combat mission."
"The general specifically told us not to let the soldiers bleed or shed tears."
On that day, the family members of the 17 soldiers who died in the battle all received formal combat death certificates signed by Fu Haoran.
The Pensions Office of the Ministry of National Defense, which had been pushing the envelope before, faced the cordial greetings from Fu Haoran with hundreds of soldiers and a large-caliber "truth" in their hands. They did not dare to raise any unnecessary questions. The full pension was credited to the family's account within 24 hours, and the mortgage bank also received a notice of mortgage exemption from the military at the same time.
The family members who had been desperate before took the text messages of their account receipts and burst into tears at the door of the temporary residence.
In another tent, Vance was lying on a camp bed. His right leg was burned by Xenomorph's strong acid, and all the skin from his knees to ankles was necrotic.
The insurance company of the military medical insurance directly refused to pay compensation on the grounds of "non-combat injury". The hospital said that the amputation would cost 80,000 US dollars alone, and the subsequent recovery would cost hundreds of thousands.
As an ordinary soldier with a monthly salary of 2,000 US dollars, he could only wait to be carried to the operating table to have his legs amputated.
When Jimmy reported the situation to Fu Haoran, Fu Haoran was looking at the sales data of photovoltaic panels without even raising his head.
"All injured military and police officers must issue a "Combat Injury Certification Certificate" in duplicate, one for the insurance company and one for the Military Medical Insurance Bureau."
"If you are willing to go to a domestic University of Tokyo hospital for treatment, let the hospital go directly to the United States military overseas combat injury medical compensation channel, and the entire bill will be charged to Pentagon."
"If you don't want to go, you can calculate the one-time disability subsidy according to the highest military disability standard and let the insurance company pay it."
Jimmy was stunned for a moment, then reacted and couldn't help but get worried. "Boss, Pentagon will definitely investigate afterwards."
Fu Haoran glanced at Jimmy and said, "If they dare to investigate, I will follow their example and let the audit person die unexpectedly."
"Also, please tell the person Pentagon for me that it's okay to let me clean up Messy Situation, but you must follow my request. If you don't accept it, don't come to me to clean up Messy Situation next time."
In the afternoon of that day, all 47 injured military and police officers received combat injury certificates signed by Fu Haoran.
The insurance company that had previously refused to pay compensation did not even dare to say nonsense and immediately opened a green compensation channel.
41 injured military policemen signed an agreement to go to University of Tokyo for treatment. The hospital directly connected with United States military's overseas medical compensation system, and they did not have to pay a penny for the whole process.
When the charter flight took off from Dulles International Airport, Vance was lying on the stretcher, looking at Washington out of the porthole window, and said something with red eyes, "In the past, we worked hard in the army, but they didn't even want to pay for medical expenses."
"General Fu, please tell us the truth. This life is his."
It is worth mentioning that on the day the disaster ended, Washington's power grid was still completely paralyzed.
The wealthy areas are supported by generators, and gasoline is priced at the same price every day and is still hard to get.
Anyone who can afford it chooses to escape.
But there are still some people who have to stay.
Ordinary residential areas are completely plunged into darkness, mobile phones are out of battery and disconnected from the outside world, the food in the refrigerator is rotten, and even the fan cannot be turned on in the weather of over 30 degrees Celsius.
Just then,
Dozens of mobile charging vehicles with the DYB logo are driving into various communities.
The loudspeaker plays in a loop. "Free charging, no limit on model, no limit on duration, open 24 hours a day."
The next second, every mobile charging vehicle was surrounded by water.
People held up their dead mobile phones as if they had found water in the desert.
While charging, everyone noticed the GG printed on the car: Plug and play balcony photovoltaic panels, no need to apply for a power grid permit, a set of 899 US dollars, powering mobile phones, refrigerators, and small air conditioners on the same day, and free replacement if it breaks.
There is a line of small words printed under the GG card: Disaster special price, limited to 7 days.
The first ones to buy were families in wealthy areas.
George City's lawyer, K Street lobbyist, Poto Mark retired military officer by the river...
After using it for a day, I posted a photo in the community group: the refrigerator turned on again, the phone was fully charged, and the fan started running.
More than two thousand units were sold that day.
The next day, ordinary families started grabbing.
DYB's offline store at Washington had a long queue at 4 o'clock in the morning.
Single-day sales exceeded 10,000 sets, and the factory was open 24 hours a day to supply goods.
The store manager's voice was excited when he called the headquarters, "Boss, the inventory is gone. We need more goods."
Some people are even reselling it at a higher price outside the store. A set of basic models priced at US$899 has been sold for US$1,500, and there are still people rushing to buy it.
A week flies by.
More than 60% of the households in Washington are equipped with DYB's balcony photovoltaic system.
People find that two components can only meet basic needs, and a more powerful system is needed to drive home appliances throughout the house.
Fu Haoran takes advantage of the trend to launch a whole-house photovoltaic package, and cooperates with banks to launch a "photovoltaic loan" with 12-month interest-free installments.
The order is scheduled for three months later.
Fu Haoran didn't take these incidents seriously.
Si-Sai IV Planet, Alpha Hive City.
Fu Haoran passed through the portal with a batch of new materials, and Servo-Skull was transporting 2K World's precision machine tools and photovoltaic panel production lines into the warehouse.
Wade ran quickly from the other side of the corridor.
"Sir, the spaceport's deep space monitoring station has just sent an emergency report."
Fu Haoran stopped.
"Seven Hive Alliance's main fleet broke away from Warp and was captured by our deep space array. It is expected to arrive at Si-Sai IV Planet in two weeks."
System Panel popped up in front of Fu Haoran.
[Main mission update: Fight for air supremacy]
[Mission goal: Before the arrival of the Seven Hive Alliance fleet, obtain at least one intra-atmospheric air force that can be put into actual combat.]
[Current air superiority assessment: 0, not a disadvantage, but no. Literally zero. You don't even have an aircraft that can survive three minutes in the sky.]
[Estimated enemy air units: heavy landing craft, intra-atmospheric fighters, orbital bombing platforms. Hive City airspace is completely open, welcome to bomb at any time.]
[Penalty for failure: Orbital blockade, ground forces are completely suppressed. You will spend the rest of your life in the fortress counting cans in stock - if the cans have not been burned to ashes by orbital bombardment.]
[PS: Two weeks for Warhammer World, and about five months for 2K World. That's enough for you to buy a second-hand airplane, if the seller doesn't dislike you for bargaining too hard.]
Although there are only two weeks left for Warhammer World, the effect of the jet lag prop for Reincarnator is still there. Two weeks for Warhammer World, and about five months for 2K World.
Fu Haoran turned to look at Kallen.
"Kallen, follow me back to Garden World."
DYB headquarters.
When Li Jianguo was called in, his eyes were bruised from staying up late, and he was a bit thinner than when Washington was preparing for the F-22 production line.
Fu Haoran didn't talk nonsense and directly projected the holographic parameters of the RX-92-00 Mars composite engine on the screen.
"The engine is ready. The Warhammer STC printer can be directly mass-produced."
"I need a fighter plane that can mount this engine. I must get the first batch of finished products within five months."
Li Jianguo stared at the engine parameters on the screen,
His Adam's apple rolled. He didn't ask where this thing came from. He just asked, "Is the thrust data true?"
"The speed in the atmosphere is two thousand kilometers per hour, and the thrust-to-weight ratio is enough to carry a medium-sized fighter jet."
Li Jianguo was silent for a few seconds and then raised his head.
"Mr. Fu, I must tell the truth about the situation of the F-22 production line."
"All the tooling equipment has been dismantled, and the domestic alternative plan for the supporting supply chain has been finalized."
"But it is impossible to resume production within five months."
"The molding process of the fuselage titanium alloy integral wall panels alone requires at least eight months of debugging."
"We are still doing sample testing on the formula and spraying parameters of the stealth coating."
"The domestic chip adaptation of the avionics system requires more than 10 million lines of code rewriting."
He paused.
"Five months can only guarantee that we can start construction, but it will take at least one or two years before the first verification machine comes off the production line."
The conference room was quiet for a few seconds.
Fu Haoran didn't get angry, he knew that Li Jianguo was telling the truth.
The F-22 is the industrial crystallization that Lockheed Martin company spent more than ten years and hundreds of billions of dollars to accumulate. The Li Jianguo team used the domestic supply chain to catch up from scratch. Two years has been the result of desperate compression.
But the Alliance fleet arrived five months later, without air superiority, and Hive City was an isolated island.
Fu Haoran tapped his fingers twice on the table.
"I will not build a new aircraft. I will use the existing airframe to modify it. I need a platform that is sturdy, cheap, can be mass-produced quickly, and can fly after being installed with an engine."
Li Jianguo raised his head.
"Give me three days. I will screen all the main models currently in service and retired around the world. Those that can be modified and adapted within five months will be listed as Manifest."
"You only have two days."
"Okay."
Fu Haoran Stand up.
"The F-22 production line continues to advance, don't stop."
"In addition, notify Jimmy and ask him to prepare global channels for purchasing retired airframes. Manifest will definitely come down and lock the supply immediately."
Li Jianguo nodded, turned around and walked out of the conference room, his steps twice as fast as when he entered.
Fu Haoran picked up the encrypted communicator and dialed the channel of Jimmy.
"Jimmy. Two things. First, contact the channels of retired fighter jets from major arms dealers around the world, and prepare to purchase airframes on a large scale."
"No finished product, just a retired machine with a complete body structure. Manifest will give it to you in two days."
"Second, let Cheng Beixiao go through Triangle's aviation supporting supply chain. List the fly-by-wire flight control chips, hydraulic servo systems, and avionics replacement parts needed for airframe modification. Manifest will sign an exclusive supply agreement within three months."
Fu Haoran hung up the communication and dialed the channel of Kallen.
"Kallen, mass production progress of RX-92-00 engine."
"Sir, the STC printer has completed parameter calibration of the core components of the engine."
"The first batch of engine casings will roll off the production line within 72 hours."
"I calculated that one week of full load operation can produce a complete engine."
Fu Haoran is not satisfied with this result. To put it bluntly, the STC he owns is just a 3D printer, not an assembly line, and its production capacity is naturally not high.
The F-22 production line continues to advance, which is the long-term layout.
But the air supremacy after five months will have to be filled by modified aircraft.
Which machine to use? Li Jianguo will give him the answer in two days.