Looking at the unconscious 006, Bella couldn't help but marvel at his luck. The guy just hitched a ride and nearly got himself killed. Was there anyone more unlucky in the world?
She had the gunmen help move both the motormouth driver and 006 into the vehicle. Then she put a bullet in each of the four gunmen. The way they'd been looking at her—pure venom. If they got free, the revenge attempts would never end.
She didn't like killing. Hell, she was against it. But that didn't mean she *couldn't* kill.
If they'd been more compliant, she could've just wiped their memories and called it a day. But now they were giving her looks like she'd slaughtered their entire families for ten generations. She couldn't afford to leave these four around to cause problems.
006's injuries were severe, so Bella drove him to the hospital. The motormouth driver got brought along for the ride.
A minor incident occurred during admission.
She asked Wade Wilson his name.
"Jimmy."
Bella shook her head. You're lying.
"Tom!"
She shook her head again. What's wrong with this guy? Just tell me your name. Why all the games?
"Harry?"
"Trying to get my attention? Your jokes aren't funny. Sir, we're at the hospital. You're free to go."
When it looked like he was about to spout more nonsense, she gave up. Whatever. He was just some random guy she'd saved on the side of the road.
After handling 006's admission, paying the deposit, and leaving her phone number, she turned to leave the hospital. She didn't notice Wade Wilson watching from around the corner with curious, contemplative eyes.
Bella returned to the small town alone. The brawling men had all passed out by now. Bodies lay scattered everywhere—sixty or seventy people sprawled across the town, with the occasional snore breaking the silence.
She ignored them. She'd come back for the Tyrant.
Three kilometers away, she found the truck that had been attacked earlier. This was definitely the vehicle transporting the Tyrant.
Inside were refrigeration equipment and documents. The files were in Russian. She skimmed through them quickly—this Tyrant apparently came from Eastern Europe, from a country called East Slavia.
It was a nation that didn't exist in her previous life, located roughly at the border between Belarus and Ukraine. A typical small Eastern European country.
East Slavia was trying to join the EU and UN, but facing massive resistance. The international community didn't recognize their legitimacy, and domestic opposition groups were causing trouble. They'd been in constant turmoil since breaking away from the Soviet Union.
This country was a complete blind spot for Bella—she knew nothing about it. She glanced through the documents and set them aside.
Her focus remained on the Tyrant.
The Tyrant definitely couldn't stay at the scene. Using it for combat would be a waste—the bioweapon virus inside was far more valuable. After the U.S. government dismantled Umbrella Corporation, various major powers had obtained portions of bioweapon data through messy channels. Everyone was secretly researching.
If you didn't research, others would use their research results against you.
Even if you want peace, trouble keeps finding you. Sometimes you can't stop even if you want to.
Bella felt helpless. She didn't want to leave her life in others' hands. In for a penny, in for a pound—if everyone else was researching, then she would too!
She had no personnel or equipment, but she had the Golden Apple. That was her advantage.
She secretly called Crusher.
"You want me to fly halfway around the world to find you? That's so far... one hundred barrels of aviation fuel!"
"Deal! Get over here! Hurry!"
Bella agreed without hesitation. Perfect—she'd just haggled off a hundred barrels earlier. She'd tell 006 later that the rescue operation cost two hundred barrels of aviation fuel. Let him reimburse her.
With material incentive, Crusher arrived quickly.
Working together, they refroze and boxed the Tyrant.
After careful consideration, Bella had Crusher transport the Tyrant to Newt Town, Texas—to Heather's farm for deep burial.
She was going to buy that farm and relocate the townspeople.
The farm was useless for agriculture, but perfect as a secret base for bioweapon research!
It was already on the U.S.-Mexico border with sparse population. On the surface it would look like a farm, but underground she could dig seven or eight levels for laboratories. No one would ever know!
Once she got through this busy period, she'd start research on bioweapons, clones, and viruses. If nothing else, she at least needed to develop an antiviral serum using the Tyrant's cells.
She planned to do these projects under Weyland Corporation's name. Right now she lacked both management and technical personnel.
006 might work for management—the old comrade's character was trustworthy. He probably wouldn't go around selling bioweapons. She'd have a deep conversation with him once he woke up. But finding a scientist to research human genetics was tricky. She couldn't hire anyone from the military, large labs, major corporations, or anyone famous. After filtering through all that, she was stumped. Who should she find to lead the research?
"You want to buy my farm?" When Bella told Heather the news, Heather nearly jumped for joy.
"Really? My farm in Texas? You're not kidding?" She confirmed repeatedly.
She was absolutely thrilled!
Over three months had passed, but Heather's novel "I Run a Farm in Texas" was only five hundred words in. Finishing it was a distant dream. She had no idea how to farm, and the annual property taxes were like a noose around her neck. Heather had been losing sleep over it.
Even between friends, it's best to keep the accounts clear. After some discussion, they reached an agreement. Bella would pay $390,000 to buy Heather's three thousand acres of land and all buildings on it.
When Heather inherited the estate, she'd borrowed $80,000 from Bella. Now the debt would offset part of the payment.
She also wanted to buy the "Weyland Magic Item Store" in San Francisco—shop and inventory included—for her boyfriend Max to run.
Bella nodded in agreement. The store barely made a profit anyway. Monthly revenue basically just covered Max's salary.
However, San Francisco's property values were rising fast. Her shop's location was excellent. Last year, when a street next to it was opened up, what used to be a shop in a back alley became a street-facing storefront. Two floors—it couldn't be bought for less than $300,000.
Heather's debt plus the shop purchase totaled $380,000, while Bella was buying her farm for $390,000.
Considering San Francisco property values were climbing daily, while the Texas farm's location... well, the less said the better...
Heather figured she was getting a great deal. She waived the $10,000 difference. They traded back and forth—left hand to right hand, right hand to left hand. Neither saw any actual money. Barter complete!
Heather shed her burden and debt while helping her boyfriend achieve his dream of running his own shop.
Bella helped her friend solve her insomnia while gaining a secret research base.
Everyone was happy.