The Wanderers got along very well with the Radiant Dust Farm.
The Farmer had international support, a source of funds, and material supplies, while Damascus had manpower and combat strength.
As the fresh produce industry expanded in the city, more and more personnel were dispatched to the West District from the camp, yet they could never abandon the wasteland camp.
Because interstate transport was another core business for the Wanderers.
Every day there were supply vehicles shuttling between the farm and the camp.
Gaf was in the material storage area.
She helped sort out a batch of supplies sent from the city, categorizing them into the storage room. Her movements were a bit slow; her left cybernetic limb would jam when moving goods, requiring extra effort from her right arm to maintain balance.
John had been standing for a while.
Gaf liked to immerse herself in her own world, absorbed in hard work.
After she finished, her eyes glanced at John, but her gaze didn't linger. After taking a few steps, she couldn't help but turn around with suspicion, surprise, and a search for confirmation.
John raised his hand to greet her.
Gaf seldom interacted with John; during her time as a temporary worker at the Chavez Restaurant, she rarely saw the boss.
"They say..."
"OK."
John raised his hand, interrupting the words he had heard countless times.
He scanned Gaf's left cybernetic arm—a two-segment splice, with a shoulder interface of one model, and a forearm of another, connected by a not very smooth transition joint, barely functional with almost no comfort.
John's cybernetic eyes flickered, staring at her.
Gaf stood there, posture somewhat awkward, unsure what to say or if she was allowed to leave, leaning on the edge of the shelf for support.
She had heard that the restaurant owner was a formidable mercenary.
Average survivors of illegal immigration lived in a different world from the edge walkers before involving illegal transactions. Bullets and casualties intersected their lives, but it was hard to find common topics.
Gaf's mind speculated:
Perhaps he was inquiring about the restaurant's situation, a clue to an old customer, or perhaps seeking revenge...
"Roll up your pant leg."
"Huh?"
Gaf was stunned.
John unfolded his arms and pointed to her lame leg. "I need to scan the specific model; it's best to see the cross-section. Where is the amputation point?"
Gaf didn't speak, hesitated for a moment, and realized she didn't have the courage to stop or refuse, so she pulled up the wide-leg pants, revealing a crude cybernetic limb without any embellishment.
She pointed to a spot slightly above the knee.
"It was cut from here, meniscus shattered, mild infection. To redo a prosthetic, it needs another cut."
Gaf said it very lightly.
The entire process was completed amidst excruciating pain and high fever coma. When she woke up, she had lost a flesh leg, trading it for complications and burned skin, yet still continuing to strive in life.
John nodded, raising his gaze to look at her.
"Do you want to stay at the camp, or go back with me to work?"
"S... Sorry what?"
Just having put her pants leg down, Gaf was stunned.
"The restaurant will be rebuilt, still in the old location. I will learn from past lessons and run the business well..."
"Wait, John... Sir?"
Gaf extended her left arm, unabashedly revealing the joint's unusual noise. "I only have one usable arm, can't be of much help."
"I know, that's why I just looked."
John's tone carried no emotional color. "The situation isn't irretrievable. I will find a doctor to fit you with a suitable prosthetic body, and after the leg surgery, you come back to work."
Gaf remained silent.
John furrowed his brow. "You want to stay in the camp?"
"Um, NO, I'm willing... I mean the restaurant, thank you, sir."
Gaf stammered, her expression very unnatural.
John extended a hand and shook the hand of the Mexican girl in front of him. "Congratulations on becoming permanent. Welcome to the Chavez Restaurant. Remember to find Gerry to sign the formal work contract."
"What about the treatment cost, first... BOSS?"
Gaf chased after her boss who was about to leave.
John didn't even turn his head, waving his hand. "Employee benefits."
The restaurant needed to reopen.
The business plan left behind by Kenichi Sora was very complete. Rebuilding was perfect for clarifying functional areas, convenient for subsequent upgrades and improvements.
The address was still in the original location.
The approval process and construction both required people to assist, not something that could be done by simply signing a contract with anyone.
The main dishes were meat, requiring renegotiation with the Radiant Dust Farm.
Other goods, including drinks, needed black market suppliers.
There was a lot to be done.
The staff consisted only of Gerry, Maya, and Gaf; John couldn't oversee the restaurant all the time. People needed to stay, capable of solving and clearing problems.
Recruitment had to be carried out independently, or reliable intermediaries needed to be consulted.
Everyone needed to be equipped with weaponry.
Delivery and work vehicles also needed to be purchased.
...
"What about the money?"
It was Gerry who asked.
He was passionate about running the restaurant, yet also grounded in reality.
"I'll go collect debts."
John had a list of visits in his mind; employee names from his own staff followed by a long string.
"You guys make clear handovers with the camp, pack up, prepare to return to the city. Once I find a place to settle in, I'll message you all."
[Contact created - Gerry]
[Contact created - Maya]
[Contact created - Gaf]
John arranged his employees, talked for a while with Screwdriver again.
The time was approaching noon.
He accepted the invitation to settle lunch at the Damascus Camp.
The Wanderers were doing increasingly well in the city, with supply carriages going back and forth, enriching the food supply sent back to the camp.
John enjoyed Mexican tortillas with Screwdriver and several old friends.
The beer had to be chilled.
They talked about John's past, and during the conversation, introduced a few good guys among the camp newcomers to the mercenaries.
"Rebuilding the restaurant?"
Screwdriver pointed the bottle mouth towards John with a laugh. "In that case, you can totally ask Damascus for help, that's what we do."
The Wanderer group migrated between cities, undertaking various kinds of work: they transported personnel and cargo, worked seasonally at farms, or signed short-term contracts with large construction sites, providing labor and equipment.
When brought to Eden City by Nando, Damascus had continually taken on various construction tasks, even registering temporary companies.
It was only later that Aelon parachuted into Eden City, integrated Raqi Military Industry and Raqi Heavy Industry, and through commercial methods, squeezed out the Wanderers, taking over city construction, putting it into Eastern People's hands.
Nando was thus forced to seek other avenues, finally linking up with the Radiant Dust Farm.
"We are familiar with processes, have ready equipment and connections, and all the brave young people have gone to the city to help. The remaining manpower in the camp are diligent and honest folks who, without construction work, have to run transport."
Screwdriver spoke eloquently.
They sat in a resting area shaded by camouflage netting, in front of them was a folding, spliced table and an ice bucket full of beer.
"Just a restaurant, labor is just right, ensuring you the most favorable price and fastest construction speed, talk to Nando, he will agree."
Screwdriver propped up his body, clinking glasses with John.
"I heard you were dead, Alonna went to the Chavez Restaurant once, intending to avenge you as a friend, but unfortunately, in the end, we only discovered the name of Internet Surveillance, Fack, there's truly nothing that could be done."
He shook his head with a wry smile.
"You came back alive, everyone is really happy." Screwdriver first sighed with emotion and reminisced, then suddenly broke into a mischievous grin. "Talia came once on a long-haul trip. We mentioned your death news; she regretted not having forced you into bed before."
"What the hell..."
"Yeah, I swear, a lot of people heard it. Unfortunately, she went on a long haul to North America. I really look forward to her expression when she meets you again."
