Open Scheme

The mechanical servant had a loudspeaker strapped to it, looping Fu Haoran's surrender policy on repeat, the sound booming through the entire factory floor.

The gang members in the factory froze, exchanging glances, none daring to move.

"Is that Governor an idiot? Actually sending us food?"

"Could it be poisoned? Trying to kill us off?"

A peripheral member mustered his courage and approached.

His name was Ronan, formerly a technician at the factory, forcibly conscripted by the Iron Hand Gang, long fed up with their oppression.

Ronan grabbed a sausage from the truck bed, took a bite, and chewed cautiously, terrified it might be poison.

The others watched him intently, full of anticipation.

Seconds ticked by, Ronan's expression calm.

"Ronan, what's the deal? Is the food safe or not?! Say something!"

Ronan didn't answer. Instead, he looked at the food, then said gravely, "This food is suspicious. I need to test it further."

With that, he started sampling other items, taking a bite here, a nibble there, then grabbing a bag of beer and chugging it down.

"Damn! This guy's hogging it all!" The crowd erupted and swarmed forward.

Knowing he couldn't hide it any longer, Ronan stuffed several items into his own clothes.

Ronan knew full well this food wouldn't go far, so he struck first, grabbing what he could and tucking it away.

He pushed through the crowd to a small group: "Here, share this, go easy on it. This is beer—I already drank some, it's not poisoned."

The dozen or so people in front of him were Ronan's former coworkers from the factory, all forced into the gang like him.

Ronan had been their leader before, and now he was the backbone of this little team.

As Ronan was distributing the food, he was suddenly kicked from behind and sent flying.

Before he could get up off the ground, he heard cursing behind him: "You bastards, you find food and don't report it first, and you dare to hoard it!"

"Hand it over now!"

The newcomer was a full-fledged gang member, Locke, Jack's trusted man.

Seeing the crowd still scrambling for food, Locke didn't hesitate—he opened fire on the spot, gunning down several of the looters.

Watching their comrades fall with holes blown through them, lying in pools of blood, the crowd finally quieted down.

Locke was pleased with the effect. He spat, aimed his gun at Ronan, and said, "Hand it over!"

Ronan clutched the food, not moving.

"We've been starving for two days. Please, leave us something to eat."

"Starving's your own damn fault! This food is only for core members! You trash don't deserve it!" Locke said matter-of-factly, seeing nothing wrong with his words.

Ronan stared at Locke, then handed over the food he'd stashed.

It seemed like things were over, but Locke felt he needed to make an example today, so he kicked Ronan square in the head.

Ronan fell again, and this time he wasn't so lucky—blood streamed from his crooked, broken nose.

"Ronan, you okay?"

His comrades helped him up.

Seeing Ronan had a dozen people backing him, Locke finally backed off, since he only had three men with him.

"Tch. Lucky break today."

Locke finished looting this group, kicked aside someone else, and kept pillaging.

Ronan wiped the blood from his nose, staring at Locke's retreating back.

In the eyes of the surrounding workers, fear and hunger burned like fire.

Suddenly, the mechanical servant's recruitment broadcast came again: "Bring ten men to surrender and receive the rank of corporal, bring a hundred to receive sergeant. Surrender and live..."

Ronan was stunned for a moment, then made a decision:

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

"Give it here." Locke grabbed the last of the food, satisfied with his haul.

"Meat and booze, but not enough for us to feast on for a few days. That idiot Governor's so stingy—couldn't he have sent more?"

Locke grumbled, never considering that this food wasn't meant for just a few people.

Loaded up, Locke and his men pushed the cart away, when suddenly Locke heard footsteps behind him.

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

"Kid, do you know what you're doing? Touch me, and you won't live to see tomorrow!" Locke tried to scare him off with threats, but it didn't work.

"I'm borrowing your head." Ronan pulled the trigger.

Locke's harsh words splattered onto the cart along with his brains.

More gunfire followed in the blink of an eye, and Locke's men were riddled with holes too.

The scene quickly fell silent as everyone stared blankly at Ronan and his group.

Standing behind the cart piled with food, Ronan roared, "They treat us like cattle! The Governor's giving us a way out—why not rebel?!"

The silence around them stretched for a moment.

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

Ronan had expected some to be afraid. He said bluntly, "I'll go surrender with my brothers first. If we don't come back alive, treat everything I said as bullshit."

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

On the road to the exit, Ronan had over twenty men behind him.

Some genuinely wanted to surrender with him; others only believed what they saw with their own eyes.

"Ronan, how sure are you?"

Faced with his companion's hesitation, Ronan finally said, "Either go out and gamble on a way to live, or stay here and rot. I choose the first. Anyone afraid of death, don't follow."

"There's a hidden exit in Channel Three. Not many guards there. I'll go out first; if there's no problem, you come after."

When Ronan stepped out of the channel, 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 stand on ceremony—he filled his stomach first.

After eating and drinking his fill, Ronan followed the signs into a temporary passage made of barbed wire and came face to face with a Planetary Defense Force soldier behind a pane of glass.

"Surrender or trade for food?" the soldier asked.

Ronan placed a human head from his belt onto the counter. The soldier glanced at it and said matter-of-factly, "Drop it in the window over there. Here's your reward."

With that, he pushed out three cans of luncheon meat.

"Aren't you going to verify who it is?"

The soldier sneered. "No need. The Governor doesn't care—he only wants results."

Ronan didn't leave in a hurry. He said, "I want to join the Punisher Reserve Squad."

This time, the soldier finally smiled. "Smart choice. Come register."

Ronan returned to the factory floor, but this time he wore the uniform of the Planetary Defense Force. He hadn't been issued any armor, but he'd received an old standard-issue lasgun.

Even though the lasgun was wrapped in tape, Ronan was more than satisfied.

When he arrived at the agreed meeting point, he shouted, "Come out, it's me."

Dozens of figures emerged from the shadows. When they saw Ronan's uniform and weapon, every single one of them wore an expression of disbelief.

A stir ran through the crowd.

Someone couldn't believe it. "R-really? They gave you food?"

Ronan handed out the bread he'd brought before speaking. "Alright, now who's willing to come with me to pledge allegiance to the Governor?"

In the command post, Fu Haoran watched the system display [Surrender Count +37].

[Ding, Available Officer +1, Loyalty (Under Observation)]

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