A keyboard, a crowbar, and Old Dog

Lunch break.

It was called a lunch break, but it really meant two cheap chicken sandwiches per person, plus half an hour of free time.

The workers gathered in twos and threes, their only topic of conversation the spectacular "paint show" that morning. Rick's humiliation had provided a rare bit of spice in their dreary lives. Although he had gone around furiously looking for trouble after washing off the paint, he could hardly punish everyone, and under those circumstances, no one could produce evidence that someone had caused it.

Zhao Fan sat alone on a broken wall at the edge of the ruins, holding a sandwich that was a little hard to choke down, but his gaze was not focused on the food.

Although that morning's strike had been perfect, it had also exposed a problem. His Basic Precision Throwing was accurate, but its power was limited. In a real fight, a nut could at most put out Rick's eye, not inflict a fatal wound. And without suitable surroundings to exploit, like that precariously balanced metal bucket, his means of attack were actually very limited. It seemed he needed some items specifically for throwing.

"What are you thinking about? Still savoring that bucket of paint?"

Old Dog limped over, sat beside him, and casually tossed him a bottle of water.

"I'm wondering what happens if he isn't so lucky next time." Zhao Fan unscrewed the cap and took a gulp. The water still had that familiar taste of purification tablets.

"Luck is a kind of strength, too." Old Dog gave a meaningful smile. "And I think your luck might just keep getting better, kid."

As the two chatted, a somewhat timid figure slowly edged toward them.

It was the fat guy, Benjamin.

He had changed into a spare set of work clothes, which still fit him very poorly. Although he had washed his face clean, a little blue paint still clung to one arm of his glasses. He tightly clutched half an unfinished sandwich, looking nervous to the extreme.

He approached Zhao Fan and Old Dog, hesitated for a long while, then finally worked up the courage to speak quietly. "Um... well, thank you."

Old Dog raised his eyebrows and looked at him teasingly. "For what? For that bucket of paint not landing on your head?"

The fat guy shook his head. Instead of looking at Old Dog, he stared straight at Zhao Fan. Although he was trembling, his gaze was unexpectedly firm.

"What are you thanking me for?" Zhao Fan raised an eyebrow. "The rack fell over on its own. Everyone saw it."

"No, it wasn't an accident." The fat guy raised his head, a shrewd gleam that did not match his appearance flashing in the small eyes behind his thick lenses. "I studied mathematics and computer science. The angle of that rack's tilt, and the trajectory of the solvent bucket... unless an external force struck a particular support point, it should have fallen inward, not outward onto that bastard's head."

Zhao Fan's movements paused slightly. He turned his head and scrutinized the fat guy seriously for the first time.

Zhao Fan put down his sandwich and slowly stood up. He leaned forward slightly, giving off an overwhelming sense of pressure.

If this secret got out, not only would Rick go berserk, but Mike would also make him pay dearly. He was considering whether to make this fat guy keep his mouth shut forever right now-through threats, of course.

"No one helped you." Zhao Fan's voice was cold, but it carried a brutal truth. "It was just an accident. Like everything that happens here. If you want to survive, forget about that nut."

As though sensing the killing intent coming from Zhao Fan, the fat guy stumbled back a step in fright and waved his hands repeatedly. "Wait! Don't get the wrong idea! I... I'm not here to tell on you! I won't tell anyone! I swear!"

"Then what are you here for?" Zhao Fan asked coldly.

"I... I want in." The fat guy swallowed and said something that left both Zhao Fan and Old Dog stunned.

"In?" Old Dog sounded as if he had heard a joke. "Kid, what do you think we're doing? The Avengers? We collect garbage!"

Ben froze for a moment, and the light in his eyes dimmed a little. He lowered his head, looked at his lunch, and mumbled, "I know... good people don't live long here, but I... I don't want to keep getting bullied like this. I'm useful. Really."

"Useful? What can you do, then?" Zhao Fan asked with interest.

"I can do this."

Ben took a deep breath, as though making some momentous decision. As he spoke, the fat guy carefully took something out from inside his clothes.

It was a seemingly high-end tablet, but its screen was covered in cracks and its casing was badly worn. Even so, it was a rarity in these ruins.

He picked up the tablet, his fingers dancing rapidly across the screen. At that moment, his cowardly, timid air vanished entirely, replaced by the absolute confidence of a tech geek.

"I'm a programmer... used to be. My old company is already in ruins. People are looking for jobs everywhere now, and I'm Asian and didn't graduate from a prestigious university, so I can't find work at all." The fat guy spoke quickly, tapping a few times on the cracked screen. "After the Battle of New York, a lot of companies' servers were destroyed, but I wrote my own web crawler. Although D.O.D.C.'s internal network has a very advanced firewall, using Stark Industries technology, I discovered that their external personnel management system... was outsourced to a third-rate company."

The image on the screen changed, displaying streams of green code Zhao Fan could not understand, followed by a login screen bearing D.O.D.C.'s official emblem.

"This is D.O.D.C.'s internal task assignment system," Ben said in a hushed voice, speaking extremely quickly. "Their firewall is a joke. It uses a protocol Stark Industries discontinued five years ago. I... I opened a little 'back door' in it."

The look in Zhao Fan's eyes finally changed.

In this postwar period of extremely strict information control, hacking into the semiofficial D.O.D.C. system was no minor crime. This fat guy looked as timid as a mouse, yet in the online world, he was unexpectedly audacious.

"What do you want to do?" Zhao Fan asked quietly.

"I want to survive, and live a little better." Ben's eyes dimmed briefly, then brightened again. "Brother Zhao, do you know why people like Rick always get the lucrative areas, while we're left with the tough nuts to crack? It's not just because he knows how to suck up. More importantly, someone leaks the survey data to him in advance."

"Look." Ben pointed at a map on the screen. "This is tomorrow's preliminary assignment map for sector C-4. The official briefing says 'low risk, primarily construction debris.' But if you look at the backend data..."

He opened a hidden layer, and a complex map appeared on the screen, densely marked with dots of various colors.

Several red skull symbols instantly appeared in areas originally marked green for safety.

"This is tomorrow's task assignment map." The fat guy lowered his voice, speaking extremely quickly. "Not only that, I also hacked into their environmental monitoring backend."

"Here, and here." Ben pointed at the red dots. "The backend data shows residual high-energy radiation in these places, or underground cavities with extremely unstable structures. But to meet their deadlines, those bloodsuckers at the top disabled the alerts and sent us temporary workers straight in to fill the holes."

Zhao Fan looked at the red dots, a chill running down his spine. Without this information, who knew which unlucky soul would die inexplicably in the ruins tomorrow, only to have it classified as "improper operation."

"What else can you see?" Zhao Fan asked gravely.

"A lot." A light shone in Ben's eyes. "Supply inventories, security patrol routes, even... certain high-value areas marked 'clearance postponed.'"

Zhao Fan's heart gave a sudden thump.

"This is..." Old Dog leaned over for a look, then his mouth fell open in surprise.

The fat guy pointed at several inconspicuous corners of the map, his eyes gleaming with something called "expertise."

"These yellow areas are 'blind spots'-places where the surveillance cameras are damaged and drone patrols currently can't reach. And according to the geological scan data, there's very likely good stuff buried underneath."

Zhao Fan's heart gave a sudden thump.

This was exactly what he needed most right now!

He had a system and abilities, but he was blundering around the ruins like a headless fly, relying entirely on luck to stumble across those remnants. If he had this map, if he could know in advance where to find the "high-value garbage" he needed, where it was safe, and where it was dangerous...

His efficiency would increase more than tenfold!

And avoiding surveillance... for someone with secrets like his, that was simply priceless.

Zhao Fan reassessed the unremarkable-looking fat guy before him.

It seemed he was not the only hidden talent in these ruins. Everyone had their own way of surviving. Even a seemingly harmless hamster might be hiding a huge stockpile of winter food.

"What's your name?" Zhao Fan's tone softened.

"Benjamin Lee. Everyone calls me 'Fat Ben.'" Seeing Zhao Fan's attitude ease, the fat guy sighed in relief and gave an earnest smile.

"I'm Zhao Fan." Zhao Fan extended his hand. It was still stained with dust and machine oil, but it was exceptionally strong.

"Just call me Old Dog," Jose added in greeting from beside them.

Overwhelmed by the welcome, the fat guy reached out and shook Zhao Fan's hand. His palm was fleshy and covered in sweat.

Old Dog watched the scene with interest and fished a cigarette pack from his pocket. Although it was already empty, he still flipped it open out of habit, then put it away again when he saw there were no cigarettes. "Interesting. A crowbar, a keyboard, and an experienced Old Dog like me... hey, boys, looks like our 'Garbage Recycling Squad' is officially established."

As Zhao Fan looked at the blinking dots on the map, the vague plan in his mind finally became clear.

In this world filled with despair, going it alone was a dead end. He needed eyes, ears, and someone to watch the shadows behind him.

"Listen, Ben." Zhao Fan looked into the fat guy's eyes and spoke seriously. "Now that you're in, you have to follow the rules. First, never ask me things you shouldn't ask. Second, intel matters. You need to provide us with intelligence support. Third..."

Zhao Fan pointed at Rick, who stood a short distance away, staring at them with a dark expression.

"The next time he gives you trouble, don't just hold your head and cry. Because from today onward, you have us behind you."

Benjamin's eyes grew a little red, but he held back his tears and merely nodded vigorously, as though trying to snap his own neck.

"All right, enough of the sentimentality." Old Dog patted both of them on the shoulder. "Lunch break's over. Fatty, check your map. Where in this dump are there any 'blind spots' that can earn us a little extra cash this afternoon?"

Benjamin immediately swiped across the screen in excitement. "There is one! Right at the underground parking garage entrance in sector A-6. There's a collapsed security office there, and the surveillance happens to be blocked. Plus, the detector shows a metal response underneath..."

Listening to the fat guy's report, Zhao Fan's lips curled into a cold smile.

Those so-called big shots sitting high above them.

Just wait.

This squad of "losers," these hyenas foraging through the wreckage, will soon show you what a "surprise" really is.

In the distance, the enormous "A" sign on Stark Tower gleamed in the sunlight, as though mocking the ants on the ground. But Zhao Fan knew that one day, he would stand at that height. He would no longer look up, but meet it at eye level, or even...

Look down.