The Grand Scheme

A servitor carried a loudspeaker, repeatedly broadcasting Fu Haoran's surrender terms. Its booming voice echoed throughout the factory.

The gang members inside the factory froze and exchanged glances. No one dared to move.

"Is that governor an idiot? He's actually sending us food?"

"Could it be poisoned? Is he trying to kill us?"

One of the rank-and-file members mustered his courage and approached.

His name was Ronan. He used to be a factory technician, but the Iron Hand Gang had forcibly recruited him. He'd long since had enough of the gang's exploitation.

Ronan grabbed a sausage from the truck bed and took a bite, chewing cautiously, afraid it might be poisoned.

The others watched him without blinking, full of anticipation.

As the seconds ticked by, Ronan's expression remained calm.

"Ronan, how is it? Is the food safe?! Come on, say something!"

Ronan didn't answer. Instead, he looked at the food, then said solemnly, "There's something wrong with this food. I need to test some more."

With that, he tried the other food, taking a bite here and a bite there. Then he picked up a bag of beer and gulped it down.

"Fuck! He's hogging it all!" The crowd erupted and rushed forward.

Realizing he couldn't keep up the act, Ronan grabbed several food items and stuffed them into his arms.

Ronan knew there wasn't nearly enough food to go around, so he had to get his share first. He grabbed whatever he could and stuffed it against his chest.

Pushing through the crowd, Ronan reached a small group. "Here, let's share it out. Make it last. This is beer—I've tried it. It's not poisoned."

The dozen or so people in front of him were his former coworkers at the factory. Like Ronan, they'd been forced to join the gang.

Ronan had once been their leader, and now he was the backbone of their little group.

As Ronan handed out the food, someone suddenly kicked him from behind, sending him flying.

Before Ronan could get back to his feet, he heard someone behind him cursing. "You bunch of wretches! You found food and didn't report it right away—you even dared to keep it for yourselves!"

"Hand over the food!"

The newcomer was Locke, a full-fledged gang member and one of Jack's trusted men.

When the crowd still wouldn't stop grabbing for food, Locke didn't hesitate. He opened fire, killing several people on the spot.

Seeing their companions with gaping holes in their bodies, lying in pools of blood, the crowd finally fell silent.

Pleased with the result, Locke spat and pointed his gun at Ronan. "Hand it over!"

Ronan held on to the food without moving.

"We haven't eaten in two days. Please, leave us something."

"Then starve! Only core members get to eat this food! You worthless pieces of trash don't deserve it!" Locke said matter-of-factly, seeing nothing wrong with his words.

Ronan stared at Locke and handed over the food in his arms.

It seemed the matter was over, but Locke decided he had to make an example of someone today. He kicked Ronan in the head.

Ronan fell again. This time, he wasn't so lucky. Blood streamed from his crooked nose.

"Ronan, are you all right?"

His companions helped him to his feet.

Seeing that Ronan had a dozen people with him, Locke finally backed off. After all, he had only brought three men.

"Spit. You're lucky today."

After robbing this group, Locke kicked aside the people nearby and continued looting.

Ronan wiped the blood from his nose and watched Locke's retreating back.

Fear and hunger burned like fire in the eyes of the workers around him.

Suddenly, the servitor's surrender announcement sounded again: "Surrender with ten men and receive the rank of corporal. Surrender with a hundred and receive the rank of sergeant. Surrender, and you will not be killed..."

Ronan froze for a moment, then made up his mind.

"Are you willing to take a gamble with me?"

"Hand it over." After snatching the last of the food, Locke was very pleased with his haul.

"Food and drink, but not much of it. Won't even keep us fed for a few days. That stupid governor's so stingy. Couldn't he send down more?"

Locke grumbled, never considering that the food hadn't been meant for just a few people.

Locke and his men pushed the cart away, their haul piled high. Suddenly, Locke heard footsteps behind him.

The back of Locke's head went cold as a gun barrel pressed against it.

"Kid, do you know what you're doing? If you touch me, you won't live to see tomorrow!" Locke tried to scare his assailant with threats, but it didn't work.

"I'll be borrowing your head." Ronan pulled the trigger.

Locke's threats and brains splattered across the cart.

More gunshots followed. In the blink of an eye, Locke's men were riddled with bullets too.

The scene soon fell silent. Everyone stared blankly at Ronan and the others.

Standing behind the cart piled high with food, Ronan roared, "They treat us like cattle! The governor's offering us a way out. Why shouldn't we fight back?!"

The crowd fell silent for a moment.

Then someone shouted, "But what if they're lying to us?"

Ronan had expected some people to be afraid. He said bluntly, "My brothers and I will surrender first. If we don't come back alive, you can say I was talking shit."

"But if I do come back alive, I don't want to see any cowards."

On the way to the exit, more than twenty people followed Ronan.

Some genuinely wanted to surrender with him. Others would only believe what they saw for themselves.

"Ronan, what are our chances?"

Faced with his companions' hesitation, Ronan finally said, "We can either go out and gamble on a way to survive, or stay here and rot. I choose the former. If you're afraid of dying, don't follow me."

"There's a hidden exit at Channel Three. There can't be many guards there. I'll go out first. If everything's clear, you can follow."

When Ronan emerged from the passage, he found no one guarding it. The only thing there was a table, piled high with bread and disposable cups of water.

Ronan didn't hesitate. He'd fill his stomach first.

Once he'd eaten and drunk his fill, Ronan followed the signs into a temporary passage made of wire fencing. There, he saw a Planetary Defense Force soldier behind a pane of glass.

"Are you surrendering or trading for food?" the soldier asked.

Ronan placed a severed head from his belt on the counter. The soldier glanced at it and, as if he'd seen it a hundred times before, said, "Put it through the window over there. This is your payment."

As he spoke, the soldier pushed three cans of luncheon meat through.

"Aren't you going to check the person's identity?"

The soldier scoffed. "There's no need. The governor doesn't care. He only wants results."

Ronan didn't hurry to leave. "I want to join the Punisher Reserve Squad."

The soldier finally smiled. "A wise decision. Come register."

Ronan returned to the factory. This time, however, he wore a Planetary Defense Force uniform. He hadn't been issued any protective gear, but he'd received an old standard-issue lasgun.

Even though the lasgun was wrapped in tape, Ronan was already very satisfied.

When he reached the agreed-upon spot, he shouted, "Come out. It's me."

Dozens of figures emerged from the shadows. When they saw Ronan's uniform and weapon, all of them looked incredulous.

The crowd stirred.

Someone could hardly believe it. "T-they really gave you food?"

Ronan handed out the bread he'd brought with him, then said, "All right. Who's willing to come with me and join the governor?"

In the command center, Fu Haoran saw the system display [Surrendered: +37].

[ Ding. Available officer +1. Loyalty (under observation) ]

Fu Haoran smiled. He knew his grand scheme had worked.