Chapter 107: Transitional Chapter
“We don’t need to pretend to be anyone. We’ll just go and meet Peter as ourselves?”
“Good suggestion,” RV said. “And then we’ll be stopped by the security guards at the venue and won’t be able to get in at all. Also, your actions can’t be too obvious, because.”
RV sighed, suppressing the annoyance in his eyes, and said:
“Because the headquarters and the Pluto III police department have had a falling out. You know, they think we’re making a big fuss. Furthermore, Joseph Hall Biotechnology contributes more than 23% of Pluto III’s GDP and more than 21% of its tax revenue, so the Pluto III police department is even less likely to risk an economic collapse to cooperate with us.”
For a moment, everyone was silent.
Using their own original faces was indeed too high-profile. Not that the faces of the Scotch brothers were not high-profile, but the Scotch brothers were originally people in their circle. Even if they were high-profile, they wouldn’t say anything.
But if it were strangers with a Capital Star police department background, it would be hard to say.
“Understood,” Wen En said with a serious face. “Sir, we’ll do as you say.”
Suddenly, as if he had thought of something, Wen En said, “I have another idea.”
“What?” RV said.
“I think it’s enough for me to play one of the Scotch brothers to meet with Peter. The others can assist me in the dark,” Wen En said.
“What?”
Everyone was shocked. One person to deal with Peter? They didn’t even know how many armed forces Peter had around him. Even if the others were acting in the dark, it was still too dangerous.
“The plot develops: the big Scotch betrays the little Scotch, and tells the T27 police department everything about the mess they’ve made. Of course, all of this is conditional.”
“The condition is that after the big Scotch returns to Capital Star, his assets will not be frozen,” Wen En said. “What do you think?”
“Cool,” Della said. “Then I’ll cover you with a sniper rifle from a distance.”
“Not bad. It sounds like something the Scotch would do,” RV said. “You’ll be an excellent screenwriter after you retire.”
Wen En smiled, “I like this cold joke.”
“What about me?” Claire, who had been silent on the side, spoke up. “I also want to kill Peter. Can you let me have his head?”
Claire’s words had always been radical and extreme. Della was already used to her speaking style and ignored her last two sentences. Instead, she shrugged and said, “Of course you’ll be with me. This time, I will personally keep an eye on you.”
“No!”
Romeo jumped out to object, “I object! Wen En, I won’t let you get into danger!”
“Oh, what a coincidence. I don’t want to get into danger either,” Wen En put his arm around Romeo’s shoulder and said:
“Listen to me. You pretend to be a waiter at the conference and help me cover up and check the situation. If I get into danger, you rush out to protect me.”
Just as Romeo nodded, he heard RV on the side say, “But to prevent accidents like heat, the waiters at the conference will only be Betas. How can an Alpha like him get in?”
“I have my ways,” Romeo patted his chest and said proudly.
“Actually, you just don’t want to be a waiter, right?” RV complained, and couldn’t help but think of the beginning of the mission, when he had asked Wen En and Della to be undercover waiters, and Wen En had been a million times unwilling.
“Of course I don’t want to,” Wen En flicked the non-existent dust on his shoulder. “Although movies are movies and work is work, I also want to be a magnificent gentleman like the male lead in a movie for once.”
With that, they walked out of the flight transit station. Fortunately, the weather on Pluto III was good today. There was wind, but it was not strong.
“That one,” RV pointed to a dilapidated, old black van not far away.
Yes, Pluto III was still using old-fashioned energy vehicles that had been phased out on Capital Star for two or three hundred years.
“You think I’m right,” Wen En said in a declarative tone, and pulled open the car door. “Please get in?”
“I’ll sit in the co-pilot’s seat. I need to catch up with my old comrade,” RV said.
“Be my guest,” Wen En said.
The others got into the car through the door that Wen En had opened. In the end, Wen En sat in the seat closest to the door and then closed it.
The air in the car was not very fresh, with a smell of sesame salad dressing. The car’s stereo was also playing heavy metal rock music that was who knows how many hundreds of years old.
“Want a sandwich?” the “driver” in the driver’s seat, a short and stocky male Beta with a skull-patterned T-shirt, a full beard, and a Mediterranean bald head, asked while chewing on a sandwich.
“No, thank you,” all the young people replied in unison.
“I’ll have one,” RV said.
“Ha, you’re in luck. I still have a can of meat and green bean sandwich,” the driver laughed loudly, reached into a drawer on the side, took out a food wrapped in baking paper, and handed it to RV.
“It feels like I’m back twenty years ago,” RV said with a smile. “Back when we were still on the interstellar battlefield.”
“But I don’t miss those days,” the driver suddenly stepped on the gas, and everyone’s body lurched forward. Wen En finally managed to sit up straight from the inertia. He glanced and saw that the traffic light had turned red.
“I have to spend a portion of my pension every month to treat that strange disease like post-traumatic stress disorder, otherwise I can’t sleep. Bro, do I look like I’m rich?” the driver’s voice was a little agitated, and he didn’t know if he was having an episode.
If it were any other time, RV would have said, “Oh, bro, take a deep breath. Calm down, okay?”
But now, he was silent, looking at the red light turn green with a blank expression.
For a moment, the atmosphere was strangely strange.
Until half an hour later, the car stopped in front of a dilapidated, two-story house. The atmosphere finally eased a little.
“You’ve reached your destination,” the driver’s voice returned to its original light and enthusiastic tone. “The things are all inside. I wish you a happy time on Pluto III.”
“Thanks, bro,” RV smiled and fist-bumped the driver, watching the car leave his sight.
