A few days later.
Kansas, Kent Farm.
Following the sound of a dog barking, Martha Kent, Martha Wayne·Kent, who was worrying about the bank statements in the house, quickly got up.
"Dusty! Who is here?"
Martha Kent took off her glasses, opened the door and looked outside. The border collie she raised was looking ahead warily.
There is a red Ferrari sports car parked on the roadside.
A man wearing a dark green suit and a small round hat was taking pictures of the surroundings with a camera.
Seeing this scene, Martha Kent's heart skipped a beat. Could it be a staff member of the bank?
The family's financial crisis is very serious, and she has fallen behind on many bank bills, although she has worked hard to repay them.
But she is the only woman running the farm, and she has no room to live in. Her beloved son Clark is far away from Metropolis.
She doesn't want to cause trouble to her child either...
The man who was taking pictures turned his head and looked over, with a kind smile on his face wearing gold-rimmed glasses, and raised his hand to say hello.
"Ma'am, is this your farm? Is it all corn?"
"Uh, yes."
Martha Kent smiled unnaturally, feeling uneasy. The farms here are planting large areas of corn.
Harvest the corn when it is green and make it into highland barley feed, or wait until it turns yellow and mature to sell the corn kernels that have been removed from the bones.
"This is great. Let me meet you. I am the general manager of Arkham Supermarket. We want all your corn."
The man came over and took out a gold-plated business card from his pocket with a long list of titles on it.
From the strategic consultants of MW Group, they are densely arranged to the very end, covering the entire surface.
Martha Kent puts on his glasses and holds his business card.
After reading for a while, I found the general manager title of Arkham Supermarket from the long list of English phrases.
The reverse side is the name, Edward·Nygma.
"Um, you mean, you want to buy my corn?"
"Yes, ma'am, to be more precise, we have to buy the corn in your entire town. The price is three times the market price, but there are conditions. We are only responsible for transportation. You have to harvest it, put it in bags, and put it in the car."
Nygma As he spoke, he took out his mobile phone and called up the satellite map, which showed the corn planting range of the town.
"We have a special transportation fleet. I just took a look at the amount of cornstarch here. It is very good. The grains are full and ready for harvesting. If so, we can sign a contract."
"Wait, this... so fast?"
Martha Kent was a little stunned. She was just worried about the bank's collection bill. Why did she have to sign a contract now?
Nygma put the phone back into his pocket and said seriously, "Madam, do you know how many people there are in Gotham?"
Martha Kent shook her head. This was the first time she had heard of the place name Gotham, let alone how many people there were.
"Gotham is a super metropolis, and allowing every Gotham City citizen to eat a fresh, delicious and healthy corn in the morning is our latest advertising line for Arkham Supermarket."
"To tell you the truth, madam, I calculated that the corn in your town can supply Gotham for at most one and a half months. But it is a long way to go to ensure that every Gotham City citizen can eat corn!"
"This..." Martha Kent was a little confused.
She also probably understood something, that is, it is unheard of for people to be stupid and have too much money to buy corn at high prices and advertise.
However, if you can make money, you can sell your corn!
The contract was printed on the spot, and the gorgeous-looking Ferrari sports car actually contained a full set of office equipment.
There is also a set of lawyer's certificates that can be authenticated on the spot.
"Okay, Martha Kent, can you do me a favor and ask the people who grow corn around you to come over and sign a contract?"
Nygma said as he opened the passenger door.
I took out three suitcases from inside and put them on the roof of the car. When I opened the boxes, they were all filled with green banknotes.
"Pay the bill on the spot, but you need to work overtime. I'll take a look."
Nygma pulled up his sleeves, looked at a self-defense electronic watch that he assembled by himself, and nodded, "I hope it can be loaded and transported before tonight, and it can be delivered to the dining table tomorrow morning!"
So, after Martha Kent drove the car straight to the surrounding farms, I heard that someone was buying corn at a high price.
To be honest, not many people believe it.
But when they saw the boxes of green banknotes, their passion for struggle was instantly ignited.
The first one to harvest is Kent Farm.
The corn has matured, its leaves are very green, and it is growing vigorously. Originally, we had to wait until the autumn when the corn leaves dried up before harvesting.
Now we have begun to break the corn, almost all by hand.
It is difficult to operate the machine, but with the joint efforts of the residents of the town, packaging started at 3 p. m.
The transport fleet contacted by Nygma has also arrived, with more than a dozen heavy-duty trailers and professional transport vehicles.
"Edward, you are fast enough here!"
Deadshot Lawton, wearing sunglasses, looked out of the car window and said, then turned to look at the lush cornfield.
I don't know if it's because of his skin color, but Lawton is a little uncomfortable with it, but he's not here to work.
He came here to escort the car and act as a bodyguard.
In a car behind.
Ratcatcher Otis, who was wearing a suit, got out of the car, and a big mouse that looked like a puppy also jumped out.
Otis picked up a piece of corn wrapped in green skin, broke it open in the middle, and handed half of it to the big mouse behind.
I pulled open the green skin and took a bite. The corn was not too old, just right, and still had a slightly tender texture.
"Pack it up and load it all into the car!"
Otis turned around and shouted.
The stevedores who came from behind were tall and thick-set, wearing Arkham Supermarket aprons with advertising slogans on them.
"Arkham Supermarket, feels like home."
Bags of corn were passed to the car and all piled up. The sun was setting in the west, and the sky was filled with red flaming clouds.
"This corn tastes good, but is it necessary to put in so much effort? I don't think anyone would rob several carts of corn."
Deadshot squatted next to the tire of the cart, chewing a piece of corn in his mouth, and patted the gun on his waist hard.
It feels a bit like killing a chicken with a bull's-eye.
"What do you know? This is the 41st new supermarket to open in Arkham Supermarket. Besides, who said this thing can't make money?"
Nygma was using a computer nearby to design the wrapping paper and product introduction. With a slight smile, he pasted a photo on the corn wrapping paper.
"What does this mean?" Deadshot stood up and asked, looking at the computer screen. He seemed to have remembered something.
"In the mayoral election next year, how much will they give us if you ask for a stick of corn? The corn mayor that everyone knows?"