Inside the Trading Center, refugees bustled about, congregating near the exit. Outside, Bayonet and Mad Dog frowned at the mountains of weapons, food, and other supplies piled by the entrance. Mad Dog worried about the items entrusted to him by Mr. Zhou. The consequences of losing them were too dire to contemplate. Behind him, Black Dog idly picked his teeth with a toothpick.
A subordinate approached Black Dog. "Brother Black Dog," he whispered, "we've confirmed five locations with the anomaly. The Crimson Cabaret, White Tower Park, the City Hospital, Garden Station, and here. Anything taken inside vanishes. The longer you stay, the more you lose. It's freaky."
Black Dog nodded. "Tell our men to avoid those places. Leak the information to other districts. Say Mad Dog's investigating a secret there. See if anyone takes the bait." He emphasized, "Make it natural. And have some sharp guys watch those spots. Report anything unusual immediately."
"Understood. I have some connections. Consider it done," the subordinate replied, slipping away. Black Dog glanced at the fretting Mad Dog, then smirked and fell silent.
Meanwhile, in their hideout within Garden Station, Thomas focused intently on modifying firearms. His goal was simple: exploit the Gunsmith skill's chance to add enhancements during modifications. He rapidly enhanced the weapons Eight Lop brought him, using the Gunsmith Workshop to accelerate his skill progression. Initially, he practiced on pristine firearms. As his proficiency grew, he switched to the damaged weapons accumulated over the past two days. With the introduction of durability, weapons and armor now degraded with use. Thomas salvaged everything from the refugees he'd killed, repairing and enhancing them with his Gunsmith skill.
Three hours later, several crates of modified firearms filled the room. Eight Lop had categorized them based on their enhancements.
"Boss, Tessia says it's almost noon. She wants you to review the pricing she's drafted," Eight Lop announced, bounding up to Thomas.
"Already?" Thomas glanced at the time displayed on his interface: 11:45 AM. "Okay, give me a minute. Take these crates to Tessia. I'll be down after I finish this gun."
"Right away, Boss!" Eight Lop beamed.
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Three minutes later, Thomas joined Tessia and Eight Lop in the basement level two. They were huddled around a computer screen.
"How's the pricing coming along?" Thomas asked.
Tessia immediately stood, offering him her seat. "Boss, this is the pricing based on current market rates and our available stock."
Thomas reviewed the figures. High-grade medical supplies, including trauma kits and surgical kits, were priced between 100,000 and 300,000 Apocalypse Coins. This seemed reasonable, targeting established survivors or those with ample resources. Luxury items ranged from hundreds of thousands to millions of Apocalypse Coins. The crucial part was the Calamity Coin valuation. As one of the two accepted currencies on the Flea Market, its pricing was paramount. It established the exchange rate.
After a moment's thought, Thomas decided. "Set the buy-back rate for Calamity Coins at 1 million Apocalypse Coins per coin. We'll test the waters and adjust later." He doubted anyone would trade at that rate, but if they did, it would provide valuable market intelligence.
Next came the firearms. Tessia explained that standard assault rifles and submachine guns typically went for 100,000 to 300,000 Apocalypse Coins, while pistols fetched 50,000 to 100,000. High-end weapons like sniper rifles and designated marksman rifles could command hundreds of thousands or even millions. Thomas marked up the enhanced firearms by 50% to 120%, depending on the specific enhancements.
Satisfied with Tessia's work after a quick review, Thomas instructed her and Eight Lop to upload the inventory to the Flea Market. He then descended to the living quarters on basement level three and retrieved the (fake) luxury items from Mad Dog.
"Time to shine, my pretties," he murmured.
Tessia and Eight Lop gaped when Thomas returned with dozens of luxury items. Unaware they were fakes, they were stunned to see him preparing to list them all.
"Boss, are you sure you want to sell all these? They're incredibly rare in the Apocalypse Game! Maybe reconsider," Tessia urged, explaining their life-saving potential with refugees.
Thomas acknowledged her concern but remained resolute. Resigned, Tessia uploaded the items. As each fake luxury item appeared on the Flea Market, two bright red characters materialized beside its listing on the Intelligence Center laptop: "(Fake)".
Tessia and Eight Lop stared, speechless. Unfazed, Thomas opened his Flea Market administrator panel. After a few clicks, the red "(Fake)" tags became translucent. He smiled at the dumbfounded duo.
"Relax. Only we can see the tags. Sell with confidence. And remember," he emphasized, "use the Black Market Merchant identity for all transactions. Don't mess that up."
"Boss, what if someone tries to sell us fake items?" Eight Lop asked.
Thomas gave him a wry look. "What do you think? We blacklist them, of course."
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