Chapter 873
The Hurricane is Coming 2
Chapter 873 The Hurricane is Coming 2
"squeak--"
The tanker truck stopped by the roadside, and Vilan, wearing a white lab coat, jumped out of the truck, with Wade, who had transformed into an elderly, bald researcher, beside him.
They looked up together at the gold lettering on the building across the street: "New York University Applied Science Materials Library".
After passing through the access control and verifying his identity, Wade, wearing an ID card pinned to his chest, handed over an application form stamped with an official seal to the staff member who was asking him questions.
"For meteorological research, urgently needed."
The administrator looked at the number of liquid nitrogen tanks on the application form and said in surprise, "So many? That's almost enough to fill a swimming pool! What do you need so many for?"
“This is a rare opportunity!” Vilan said with a smile. “It’s rare to have a hurricane with such high activity; this is an excellent sample for studying hurricane energy conversion!”
Without giving it much thought, the administrator signed the form while muttering, "What a bunch of research fanatics! What? Are you going to use liquid nitrogen to cool down the eye of the storm?"
"Haha, it'll be much more useful than that! If nothing unexpected happens, you'll soon see my paper in Science!"
“I have no interest in reading that!” the administrator muttered.
……
On the other side, Vera, who was previously dressed as a cleaner, was now wearing a simple long dress, her hair was messily tied up, and she was pushing a supermarket cart.
She looked up and carefully examined the numbers on the price tag, then put the large bag of salt and several boxes of silver iodide into the car.
When paying, the cashier asked curiously, "Madam, what are you doing buying so much salt?"
The woman smiled slightly and said softly, "Seafood is cheap lately, so I'll pickle some salted fish."
After leaving the house, she put the bag of salt into the van, started the vehicle, and drove to the next supermarket.
……
Vito was wearing dark blue overalls, the hem of which was stained with oil, and the brim of his hat was pulled down low, obscuring his eyes.
He handed over the purchase order and said in a low voice, "1500 kilograms of de-icing agent, can you prepare that?"
The shop assistant glanced down at the name of the purchasing company and said, "Of course, we have enough stock, and nobody's buying this right now."
"What about the price?"
"Let me see... Since you're buying a large quantity, I'll give you a discount, $380."
Vito nodded and placed a roll of cash on the counter.
……
Before he knew it, Oliver had been drinking beer after beer, and by the time he was completely drunk and left the hotel, it was already dark.
The man hailed a taxi, mumbled an address after getting in, and then slumped into the seat, groaning and moaning as waves of nausea washed over him.
The driver was unusually silent, neither cursing nor chatting, but simply opened the window a crack.
A cold wind blew in, suppressing the nausea, but Oliver's consciousness became even more hazy.
After some time, the car stopped on a secluded street in Brooklyn. Oliver grabbed a few bills and tossed them over, then staggered toward an old arched bridge.
The river water under the bridge smelled damp and fishy. Oliver couldn't hold it in and vomited for a while on the concrete platform. Feeling better, he then familiarly slipped into the shadows under the bridge pier.
He reached out and ran his hand along the graffiti-covered wall. He pressed on something, and a section of the stone wall silently slid open, revealing a long, dark tunnel inside.
Oliver hiccuped, about to step into the familiar darkness, when suddenly— "Beep—beep—beep—beep—!!!"
A sharp, urgent cry suddenly rang out, as if someone was whistling with all their might right next to his ear!
Oliver was so frightened that he fell down, staring blankly at the spinning, brightly lit thing above the tunnel. It took him a while to realize that what was making the loud noise was a peephole.
While he was in a daze, a man suddenly rushed out of the tunnel, holding a gun and shouting angrily, "Intruder!"
Oliver quickly raised his hands, saying in a panic, "I didn't! I just... I might have accidentally touched it... I didn't mean any harm..."
"Idiot!" the man roared, his voice trembling uncontrollably. "Behind you!"
As he yelled, he pulled hard on the door, trying to close it, even threatening to shut Oliver out as well.
"boom!"
A violent explosion rang out, sending wood chips and rubble flying everywhere. The hidden door was blown to pieces, revealing the bloodless face of the man holding the gun.
Oliver, who was sitting on the ground, was also thrown off balance by the blast wave. When he got up, he didn't care about the blood all over his face and just looked back in horror.
Amidst the smoke and dust, several figures silently appeared: the taxi driver who had just driven him, the black-haired man who had struck up a conversation with him in the bar, and some unfamiliar figures.
The only thing they had in common was that they all wore a gleaming badge on their chests, with an overlapping triangle and circle pattern that sent chills down your spine.
—The UMNO!
The UMNO party has actually come!
Oliver collapsed to the ground, unable to move, his entire body trembling.
"Good evening, Mr. Oliver Cruise."
A cold smile curled at the corner of Derain's lips as he said, "You said before... who was orchestrating this chaos?"
……
Dark as ink.
In the suburbs of New York, the salty sea breeze constantly erodes the concrete buildings of abandoned factories, leaving the once-majestic iron frames covered in thick rust.
There were no lights or human voices near the factory; even homeless people wouldn't stay in such a cold and damp place. The only sounds were occasionally the sound of waves crashing against the rocks, the barking of wild dogs, and the strange howls of certain animals.
But tonight, vehicles began to drive into the long-abandoned factory one after another. Some were small pickup trucks, some were tank trucks, some were refrigerated trucks, and there were even tractors chugging and emitting smoke.
Vito stepped on the creaking truck floor and unloaded the last few bags of de-icing agent from the truck.
Next to the neatly stacked blue woven bags were dozens of white bags printed with the numbers "46-0-0," and a faint smell of ammonia filled the air. Some of the bags were torn, and a few small white balls rolled on the ground.
As Vilan packaged the urea, he chuckled, "Buying this urea was the easiest thing; that guy didn't ask a single question. He thought I had a small farm and even recommended winter rye seeds to me!"
As soon as he finished speaking, the sound of tires screeching against the ground came from outside the door, and Victor slowly drove the refrigerated truck into the warehouse.
He jumped out of the car, opened the trunk, and a thick, white blast of cold air rushed out, revealing boxes of dry ice inside.
"Hey guys, give us a hand!" Victor shouted. "We need to put this thing away as soon as possible!"
A multitude of puppets swarmed forward and, in the blink of an eye, dragged all the boxes off the vehicle.
The collaboration was so efficient it was almost magical, allowing mountains of materials to be quickly cleared, categorized, and ready to be given a purpose.
(End of this chapter)