Bzz!
Toward evening, as olive-green jeeps slowly crossed the plains, a vast convoy of jeeps and trucks headed toward the distant coastline amid swirling yellow dust.
Snap!
In the back seat of a jeep near the middle of the convoy, John's scalp tingled from the jolting beneath him. He casually picked up a kerosene lighter he had swiped from the baron's estate and lit a Red Bird cigarette.
Just as he was about to take a puff, he seemed to remember something. Turning toward Major General Conrad beside him, who was watching him with an amused smile, he held out the cigarette pack.
"Would you like one, Major General Conrad?"
"No, thank you. I usually only smoke cigars. Cigarettes don't interest me."
Conrad smiled and waved a hand in refusal.
He knew that commanders like John often relied on cigarettes while making decisions, using them to stimulate dopamine production and keep their minds active.
But Conrad himself disliked that sort of addiction. Even with cigars, he only smoked a few puffs during social occasions with superiors. He always stopped after a taste. He was nothing like John and Dormammu, those old smokers who felt miserable if they went a day without smoking.
Still, after hearing him, John silently put away the cigarette pack, his expression turning somewhat complicated.
Realizing that his words and actions might have been a little rude, Conrad thought for a moment before adding,
"If Major John is interested, I can have someone send you a few boxes later."
"Thank you."
John said nothing else. On the surface, he thanked him with a smile that did not reach his eyes, but inwardly, he had already cursed Conrad, that filthy rich bastard, to hell and back.
Especially when he remembered that he had once possessed 679,453D and could