America 1982-Chapter 416 - 55: The Black Traitor Martin_3

Even the black folks at the very bottom are aware of this, preferring to rob a convenience store with a gun and use the chump change to buy a few burgers to stave off hunger, rather than taking a gun into the wild to shoot a couple of grouse for cooking.

But America isn’t entirely heartless; they accommodate those who seek the thrill of the hunt, no problem—as long as you’re willing to pay.

Many states have established their own public hunting grounds, providing hunting services to American citizens with hunting permits, attracting visitors from other states with unique local wildlife, like Oklahoma that allows raccoon hunting, West Virginia that permits black bear hunting, Georgia that allows coyote hunting, and Alaska where you can hunt caribou, each with its own distinct appeal.

However, thinking that having a hunting permit will let you satisfy your hunter’s craving is overly naive. America is a capitalist country that prioritizes maximizing profit. Take the public hunting grounds in New York, for example. If you only have a hunting permit and are so poor that you can only afford the entry fee, then don’t even dream about hunting crocodiles or bears, as public hunting grounds often have restrictions.

The staff will tell you that to maintain the wildlife environment as much as possible, the hunting grounds require visitors to use old-fashioned shotguns, muzzleloaders, or hunting bows, while even the crossbow is forbidden.

Imagine holding a muzzleloader as old as your grandfather when facing a wild crocodile or a wild boar; if you don’t kill it with one shot, the consequences involve much more than not having the time to reload a second round.

The main thing is that there are limits on the number of game you can take, such as only two deer per day, three ducks, etc., and you might need to distinguish between male and female. If you shoot the wrong sex, you’ll have to pay a fine.

If you want to go on an unrestricted slaughter spree with a modern rifle, the staff will kindly inform you that there are several upscale private hunting grounds nearby. These feature a variety of firearms, a broader range of wildlife, more ferocious animals, larger quotas for kills, more professional security staff, and of course, they also require a lot more cash.

Tommy and his group are currently at one such private hunting ground, where the game ranges from fierce animals like wild boars and black bears to milder creatures like whitetail deers, raccoons, turkeys, and rabbits. They primarily hunt the gentler animals such as deer, turkeys, and rabbits because they came here to relax as a family.

After ensuring everyone selected suitable firearms and had safety officers and coaches accompanying them, a large group marched into the hunting area. Most of the women stayed behind in the leisure area busying themselves setting up barbeque grills, listening to Vanessa share amusing stories of filming movies, and waiting for the game to be brought back for roasting. Only the eager Sophia with a shotgun and Susan with a rifle joined the men heading into the hunting area.

Tommy’s father-in-law, Julian, was walking along with his old man Colin, and Mr. Hart, turning red with the heated debate about who would bag the first game. Julian bragged about his years of hunting experience and even hunting a lion in Africa, while Colin boasted about winning first place in the Hope Hill bar’s bottle-shooting contest.

Hart exposed Colin as actually being the runner-up, with the true winner having his gun explode on the first shot and blinding himself during the final, therefore exiting the competition—in reality, Colin’s achievement was ill-gotten.

While the three old-timers were arguing, Tony and Tommy were making bets—Tommy wagered that the bodyguard brought by Martin would score the first kill, while Tony confidently claimed that he and his comrades would take the lead. They each put up two hundred dollars as the wager.

Tony said to his comrades, "Come on, let’s show them the difference between civilians and soldiers. Get that first kill, and for the next six months, I’ll cover the overnight costs for you guys with the female soldiers. Don’t make me lose face in front of my little brother."

"I don’t think you should be worried about losing face but rather about whether the female soldiers might file a complaint against you for sexism if they heard that," Tommy said, somewhat surprised by his brother’s words of encouragement.

"On average, two female soldiers jump ship each month, expecting them to swim back to Hawaii or the mainland to file complaints—is everyone who jumps ship being coerced?" A black officer told Tommy, "Tony wants us to be more gentlemanly, you know. With few female soldiers aboard, to successfully complete mutual ’assistance’ in bed without forcing it, apart from pouring out lots of sweet talk, the main thing that will increase your chances is cash or valuable gifts. Anyway, without money, there are no women on the ship."

"Maybe I should consider sending some strippers with VOX press IDs aboard to entertain you, to save my brother from embarrassment. Tony knows I can pull this off," Tommy said with a smile.

"Your brother is really cool," the black officer said to Tony.

As boss Hart’s Fruit of the Loom crew was being ignored, Patriarch Martin spoke to Drake and the others, "Right now, in the eyes of my half-brother Tommy, you’re already losers. The only way to change his mind is by beating those guys."

"We don’t want to work for you anymore, Mr. Hart," Drake said with his head down, voice somewhat subdued.

Martin’s eyes widened. "What did you say?"

"We think you’re a traitor to black people. You actually have a white godfather, and what did you just say? You and a white man are half-brothers?" Drake rubbed his face, "We founded our organization to uphold the dignity of black people, but it seems you take pride in fraternizing with whites..."

"Doesn’t upholding the dignity of black people require money? How long have you been maintaining our dignity and aren’t you still reliant on me, the ’traitor’ in your eyes, for the largest donation? I am doing this for all of you, for every ’n*gger’ in America. It’s only by suppressing my humiliation that I deal with white people! Without their money, who will give me funds? How else am I supposed to produce shows for ’n*ggers’ to enjoy?" Martin circled his temple with a finger, all righteousness on his face:

"Now, use those under-evolved brains of yours to ponder this question carefully. Between me, the ’n*gger’ who gives you real money, and those other ’n*ggers’’ who enjoy your efforts for so long without contributing a penny, who is the true traitor to black people?"

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