Chapter 38: Here Comes the Goods!

After confirming the investigation with Vanessa, Roger got back his five hundred dollars.

The newspaper reimbursed him for it.

He also applied for a car rental fee of one hundred dollars.

After all, how else would you move a Gundam? Ride a bicycle with a body bag tied to it and parade through the streets?

The Seattle police must be lucky—they can just pick up a free credit.

But beyond these, if any further expenses arise, he must contact Vanessa first and get her approval.

Roger took the money, rented a pickup truck for three days from a rental agency, then drove the company car to deliver food.

He didn't return to the neighborhood until seven in the evening.

Natasha didn't ask him to play flying chess today because the girl was applying to join the school cheerleading squad and needed to practice dancing hard.

Mrs. Fiona clearly couldn't afford to send her to a professional dance studio, so Natasha had to teach herself.

Thus, until ten at night, Natasha kept jumping around inside the house, making quite a racket.

But Roger thought a slightly noisy environment was far better than the dead silence of a homeless camp.

At least he didn't have to worry about someone suddenly bursting into a tent with his pants down, trying to force a Bluetooth connection.

Speaking of homeless camps, he suddenly remembered Juan and Qiangsen—he wondered how those two were doing as corpse collectors.

Thinking of this, he called Qiangsen.

"Hey, Boss Roger!" Qiangsen answered, his voice strong and full—he'd clearly eaten well.

"How have you and Juan been these past two days? How much did you make?"

Qiangsen replied: "We made a hundred dollars these two days and bought two whole pizzas. God, this is the first time I've been full since becoming homeless."

"Looks like your job's going well."

"Yeah, Boss Roger, you should come too? They say business has been good lately and they're desperate for workers!"

"Nah." Roger quickly refused.

Come on, do you want your SAN Value to drop faster or your nightmares to be longer?

He could earn nearly a hundred dollars delivering food in two days—no need to become a corpse collector.

"How's Jose lately?"

"The little guy's full of energy! He's been eating sausages every day these past few days—damn, he seems to recognize your voice—he's jumping right in front of me!"

"I'll come find you once I finish what I'm doing." Roger missed Jose too.

That little stubby tail was really nice to pet.

After chatting a while, Roger heard Mrs. Fiona's key turn in the door and lay down contentedly to sleep.

After a night of chaotic dreams, his SAN Value recovered to 8 points.

Since he didn't know when the Vulture would call, Roger dared not leave his home's vicinity and could only deliver food nearby.

Luckily he had a car—today's orders were few and all long-distance, high-paying ones. If he kept riding his bicycle, he'd just watch dollars slip through his fingers.

Then, just as it reached five in the afternoon, the Vulture called.

"Hey, Qiangsen, where are you?" The voice was still shrill.

"I'm right near your house."

"Perfect. Come to my place—we're going to pick up the goods together!"

"No problem!"

Roger had been waiting for this call—he quickly drove to the Vulture's front door.

Today the Vulture wore a wool hat, hiding his yellow hair, and a bright orange jacket—he looked slovenly.

As soon as he got in, he gave the address and started complaining: "Look at these filthy windows, look at this seatbelt. Damn, it's harder to fasten than a virgin's bra strap, man—is this your car?!"

Roger shrugged: "It's rented. I told you I'm broke."

"True. Who'd do this business if they weren't broke?" The Vulture punched his shoulder with a fist: "But don't worry—after a few deals, you'll be rich quick."

"Really?" Roger feigned surprise.

"Of course! Why would I lie to you?" The Vulture grinned: "I throw parties every day—where do you think the money comes from? Trust me, this business is great: safe, efficient, eco-friendly!"

Roger frowned as he drove: "Wait, buddy. Eco-friendly? Really?"

"Of course!" The Vulture glared: "If corpses are just dumped randomly, isn't that pollution?"

"But after our handling, these corpses become collectibles with greater value—and prevent environmental pollution. Isn't that eco-friendly?"

Roger had no reply to this thief's logic.

The Vulture was delighted: "Thank God for you, buddy—Aodisi has vanished somewhere to a strip club and I haven't been able to reach him these past two days."

"I can't reach him either," Roger agreed.

He immediately asked: "This address is near Duwamish River Park, right?"

"Exactly. Around Nan Gongyuan Shequ. You know—it's quiet there, perfect for transactions."

No sooner had the Vulture finished speaking than Roger instinctively checked the intel.

Fuck—it matched!

So the strange noises and smells in the intel were tied to the secondhand Gundam deal.

He hadn't expected to complete two missions at once.

Roger silently thanked the system.

After about half an hour of driving, the car arrived at the Vulture's described location.

But the sky was still light, and the desolate street showed no sign of anyone.

"Isn't the deal happening here? Why isn't anyone here?" Roger looked at the Vulture.

The Vulture sat badly—one leg propped on the glovebox, the other on the floor. He scrolled frantically on his phone while half-heartedly replying: "Don't rush. You don't do this kind of thing in daylight. We wait till nightfall."

"Fine." Fortunately, it wasn't Roger's own car, or he would have been heartbroken.

Since he had to wait, he simply lay back in the chair and pulled out his phone.

As soon as he opened the app, international and domestic news flooded his screen, overwhelming to behold.

Mass layoffs in Silicon Valley left programmers homeless.

A Wall Street firm's collapse triggered stock market turmoil.

In Minnesota, a white woman was killed; the governor declared her a victim of terrorism and ordered ICE reinforcements to curb terrorist organizations.

Roger saw these news stories and had only one thought.

That more homeless people would soon appear.

But it didn't matter—the Social Darwinism System would kick in; surplus homeless would vanish in one form or another.

They'd turn up in markets, in rivers, or on dining tables.

After all, homeless people in Meilijian were a renewable consumable resource—endless and inexhaustible.

When Roger first became homeless, he had been confused and angry at the sudden disappearances of people he knew.

But after seeing it too often, he grew numb.

Now he only hoped the few people he knew wouldn't meet such a fate.

Even if they did, let them not become part of the trade.

Otherwise, it would be truly tragic.

The waiting time passed quickly; the sky shifted from dusky yellow to deep blue.

Yet this sky held none of the literary beauty of velvet-blue velvet; in Roger's eyes, it was suffocatingly oppressive.

Just as he grew impatient, the vulture suddenly leapt up from the chair.

"Here they come, buddy!"