Blackstone Code-Chapter 215:

Tom, a very ordinary name, so common that people were reluctant to name their children something so plain and unremarkable.

But it was indeed a person's name, and its owner was currently hiding in a state of fear in an alleyway.

A military vehicle slowly drove past the street, and the people on it couldn't see Tom, who was hiding in the deepest part of the alley. The soldier with his hands on the machine gun only looked at figures that might appear in the light.

The strike had ended, and the military control had slightly relaxed, now reduced to a curfew.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fгeewebnovёl.co𝙢.

From 6 PM every evening until 7 AM the next morning, for eleven hours, no one was allowed to be on the streets without a valid reason.

Originally, the military intended to issue passes to those who needed to go out at night, but someone thought this was too much like the oppressive rule of a dictatorship, undermining the free image of the Baylor Federation. So, they scrapped this idea.

Instead, people who needed to be on the streets had to provide their social security number and an explanation for their presence outside during curfew to the soldiers on patrol.

This seemed much more free. No one interfered with the people's free will; they could appear wherever they wanted as long as they could provide a reason.

This was the sweet smell of freedom. Long live the Free Federation!

The departure of the military vehicle let Tom breathe a sigh of relief. After waiting a while and not hearing the sound of soldiers' boots on the ground, he once again moved forward, darting between light and shadow.

His destination this time was Nail's home.

Nail was his best friend. They had been in the same class since first grade and were employees at the same factory until recently, when they both got laid off together.

In fact, saying that they got laid off was not entirely accurate because their factory was completely shut down, indefinitely.

Their foreman had the idea of taking a group of people to the raw material warehouse, using up the materials in the workshop, and then dividing the finished products among themselves to sell and compensate for their losses.

On this matter, the two good friends who had always walked the same path had a disagreement.

Later, Tom and other workers pried open the factory's raw material warehouse, moved the materials to the workshop for production, and divided the products among all the workers. They took these products home and dealt with them privately, though it was said most were sold to the Interstellar Trading Company.

Although the auction house couldn't operate normally during the great strike, acquisitions were never a problem. Of course, people could follow rules to sell their goods, mainly because the places for buying their goods were protected by armed security guards, who seemed highly professional.

Everyone thought there would be no consequences for this action. The factory owner didn't do anything to them during the strike, but as soon as the strike ended, he took them all to court, demanding compensation totaling over three million.

The police and soldiers had already started arresting them. A new batch of police officers, more efficient than the previous ones, had taken over.

The previous batch of police officers thought they could return to work after the strike, but they overlooked that they weren't the only option. This gave the Veterans Office an opportunity.

A large number of veterans filled the vacant positions in the Sabin City Police Department and all its branches. As for those police officers who planned to return after the strike, there was no place for them anymore.

In this situation, hoping to escape legal punishment was almost impossible. After narrowly avoiding arrest once, Tom planned to seek help from Nail, who he heard was doing quite well now, even holding some managerial title. Maybe he could help him.

Actually, when the compensation was divided among everyone, it wasn't that much, just a couple of thousand bucks each...

After several nerve-wracking escapes from patrols, Tom finally arrived outside Nail's door. He knocked, and soon the sound of movement from inside the room reached his ears.

Perhaps it was because the city was as silent as a graveyard, but Tom could even hear the sound of some mechanical spring being pulled inside, the sound of a gun.

At the same time, Nail's cautious voice came from the room, "There's no money here, and we don't want any trouble..."

Countless crimes had occurred during the great strike, but people's attention was focused on the labor dispute, so they didn't notice that during this time, at least hundreds of families were invaded. Some women were violated, and some people were even killed by home-invading robbers.

People didn't notice because these incidents didn't directly affect their interests. They only saw what was related to them.

The knock on the door in the middle of the night made Nail highly nervous. His response was typical for people of his class: "If you're here to rob, there's nothing to rob." He even hinted that he was willing to give in to avoid trouble. 𝐑âＮò฿Ɛ𝐬

"It's me, Tom."

The door opened, and the light from inside made Tom heave a sigh of relief. He looked at Nail, suddenly at a loss for words.

"Are you alone?" Nail glanced into the dark hallway behind Tom, not lowering the gun he held, even keeping his finger on the trigger.

Tom nodded, and only then did Nail step aside, pocketing the gun as he let Tom in.

After Tom came in, Nail glanced down the dark hallway again before locking the door securely. This way, it couldn't be easily opened from the outside.

This was a survival trick in such places. When someone visited, people often didn't lock the door, giving opportunists outside a chance. But here, Nail wouldn't let those unseen people succeed.

After they sat down, Nail poured some liquor for Tom. The weather was getting colder, and there was no heating in the room.

Without a drink, they would soon freeze from the inside out, an unpleasant feeling.

They sat without speaking for a while, drinking.

Perhaps due to the alcohol, Tom's expression became troubled. "You have to help me. You're the only one who can help me now."

Nail looked at his old friend of decades. He suddenly realized he didn't feel as sympathetic as before, not immediately agreeing to help. This might be related to his recent experiences.

Since Lynch had entrusted him with managing the construction company, working with Arthur for over a month, he had realized some things were not as simple as he once thought.

Initially, he believed capitalists were evil. But after becoming a "capitalist's lackey," he found it was far more complex than he had imagined.

Outside the employment center, he felt pity for everyone. Some even knelt on the ground with their hands clasped together, humbly pleading with him, as if worshipping a god, to grant them a job so their families could get through this difficult time.

He wanted to save many people but soon realized he couldn't.

Lynch's budget was limited, and he had to complete Lynch's tasks within that budget. He couldn't save everyone.

He chose the ones he thought were most pitiable but soon discovered he was deceived.

Some people worked hard, but others always slacked off. One man in his thirties even injured his finger on purpose, demanding not only not to work but also to be paid the same as others, not the minimum wage.

Gradually, Nail became less indignant, more calm and indifferent. He didn't know if this was good or bad; he just knew he understood a bit more about the world.

Nail didn't respond immediately, and Tom didn't realize it at first, thinking his words were too vague.

"About that thing Schick mentioned, the boss has reported us to the police and sued us. I can't afford the compensation."

"He wants us to pay based on the product prices. Even if I still had the items, I couldn't pay that much. He just wants money!"

Their former boss demanded they compensate the factory for economic losses of over three million. About eighty percent of this was based on the market value of the products.

In other words, regardless of the raw material value they stole, they had to compensate the factory based on the store prices of the products.

Actually, the factory owner himself was surprised; he unexpectedly made a substantial profit out of the blue. He had been on the verge of bankruptcy, but in an instant, he experienced a dramatic turnaround.

The city hall and judicial departments, aiming to appease the capitalists, agreed to sue and crack down on those who caused damage during the strike. So the Sabin City court accepted the factory owner's claim.

If these people couldn't gather three million, they would face severe prison sentences.

Tom was full of regret. "I should have listened to you, Nail. You have to help me."

Nail was silent for a moment. "How much more do you need?"

Tom said a number he himself found embarrassing, "Twenty-two thousand..."

This made Nail frown. "How much did you sell your share for?"

"Fifteen hundred..."Please vote for this novel at /series/blackstone-code/There are advance chapters available nowAccess will be granted 24 hours after the donationTier 1: 7 Advance chapters Link

Link

Please do not delete thisHow to find a list of chaptersPlease find the chapter label next to your favorite translator's name, and click the label.