Hollywood Hunter

Paris, France.

It has been more than a month since he arrived in the 19th arrondissement of the northeastern part of the city, and Kazan Wandi never expected that his family would be able to settle down so quickly and smoothly.

In contrast, the four of them, who had exhausted their savings over the years, not only settled quickly in France, but also found work as porters to make ends meet.

Moreover, the contact person who helped them settle in the first place had recently informed them that a humanitarian relief point had recently opened near Chaumont Park where they could receive free food and other daily necessities, so they hurried over after finishing their work today.

I happened to meet my brother Odo with his 11-year-old son, Mahdi.

Imagine being envious of this little guy.

Mahdi was born in France, when France still recognized birthright citizenship, and along with that, because of the boy, after many years of slowness, his brother's family was granted legal status in an immigration reform. And the family, along with the recent addition to his wife's belly, would have to wait years to gain status.

After greeting his brother and nephew, the three of them arrived at the rescue point where there was still a long line at sunset, and the older brother said something else.

"You know, Kazan, our Mahdi is very smart, and I was worried about him going to school all these years, and I was afraid he would learn badly. However, a scholarship fund recently came to their school to pick someone, and Mahdi can always be at the top of his class if he's the smartest kid, so their teacher handed over the information."

Kazan sniffed, both happy for his nephew and inevitably a little envious, "So, in the future, Mahdi can still become a college student, and he doesn't have to spend any money?"

"Not set," Odo shook his head again, "It says there are still interviews to be conducted, but I haven't even heard from them lately, I've asked around and it seems like they only want mulattoes."

Kazan immediately pooh-poohed the side and cursed, "Did I tell you, those white people, how can they be so nice." He said and prodded his big hand to rub his nephew's head, "It's okay, you're legal, just go to college, you can always find a way."

After standing in line for ten minutes, they finally arrived at the door of the rescue point.

Immediately pretending not to know each other, the father and three sons each received a portion of food, in addition to bread, a biscuit and a pound of beef, enough to feed an individual for a day, and most surprisingly, another 100 francs worth of food vouchers, which unfortunately could only be exchanged for a few specified food items.

Kazan, who was not fluent in French, thanked him, but in his heart he cursed the white skinned people for being such idiots and giving them out so casually.

As he was about to leave, he noticed a pile of baby products on the shelf next to him and immediately stopped, pointing at the mountain of powdered milk to the short white chick with black hair in front of him, "That one, I want that one, I have kids."

The white girl cringed at Kazan's sudden loud voice, then explained earnestly, "I'm sorry, sir, but these need to be picked up in person by a woman with a baby in her arms."

Kazan didn't understand much of the girl's French, but understood that she was refusing, and punched the counter twice in anger, thumping it with a glare and repeating in simple French vocabulary, "I want that, I have children."

Another white boy volunteer, who had been busy in the back, saw the trouble, stepped forward, took one look at Kazan, changed to English and explained again.

Kazan is from Somalia, and Somalia back then was a British colony, English is quite widespread, which only understood, but continued to be menacing: "How can a woman just go out, I want that, I have two children, my wife is also pregnant, give me."

This attitude was actually recently learned from my older brother.

The elder brother said this side must not show weakness when facing the white man.

Kazan, however, did not have his way.

The two strong black men in security uniforms who had been maintaining order nearby came together and directly grabbed Kazan away from the front counter, throwing him hard on the curb.

These are two black men whose stature is no less than their own, and after pushing Kazan to the curb, they also took off the baton on their waist and became even more vicious: "Bastard, hurry up and get out, if you dare to make trouble here again, I'll be careful to break your head."

After all know their own identity, Kazan was also reminded that, unless absolutely necessary, absolutely can not make trouble to the police appear, so pick up the just got food and food coupons, in the surrounding queue crowd of laughter in the gray left, but inside is to hate extremely, damned white skin, damned nigger.

But it is to make up his mind, tomorrow let his wife with just two years old little son come over to get those things.

Also can't help but calculate that if you can always get it and save it, not only the son, but the one in the stomach in the future, but you can save a lot of money on milk powder, and you don't have to worry about regenerating little cubs in the future, your own salary can also be used for other things.

This side of the relief point.

The distribution of goods continued until six o'clock, ending on time.

Peter Rasor, who was in charge of the rescue site, took stock and sent off a few young men and women who had come to volunteer for free, before driving to the headquarters of the 'Aries Humanitarian Relief Foundation' in the city centre.

Peter Rasor wondered if there was a Leo or an Orion or something, but of course he didn't care. As a former UNICEF Europe employee, he was happy to jump at the chance to run the somewhat mysteriously funded foundation when he was offered the job, and when their entire team was poached for a very good salary.

However, as a far-left humanitarian, Peter Lazor won't pursue this too much as long as he can help others and provide for himself.

After all, it's doing good, and I've only heard of many rich people who work hard to do good and leave a name, this kind of charity that gives money and doesn't want fame is the real charity in Peter's opinion. Although, Peter also feels that the charity target is limited to those immigrant groups in the 18th to 20th arrondissement of Paris, seems, too narrowly a bit.

Why couldn't more people be helped?

Of course, these are not big problems.

As soon as he got back to headquarters, Peter heard another employee, Dalina, arguing with the foundation's president, Glenn Holt, and walked in to listen for a moment and ask his colleagues, only to learn that Dalina wanted the foundation to be able to procure a batch of contraceptives to distribute to the poor, mainly for the teenage population and for the consideration of blocking the spread of certain diseases in the lower classes, and that the report had been typed twice without approval.

"Dalina, I've told you that I'm on board with your plan, but there's nothing I can do about it if the council doesn't approve it."

"I know, and I'm not accusing you of anything, Glenn, I just want you to give me a way to contact the council personally."

"I'm sorry about that," Glenn said, shaking his head, "Foundation donors don't want their identities known."

There was a pause on the other side of the office, and a voice from Dalina, "We've worked together for so many years, Glenn, can you tell me if there's a problem with our funding sources?"

"How is that possible, Delena, we're a charity, and, as you've been an old man in this business for years, if there's a problem, you'll be able to see that we operate a very formal process."

"Actually, I've always thought there was something wrong."

"You're overthinking it,"

Glenn Holt reassured his subordinates, and called the group to meet briefly to discuss the day's work, it was already a bit late, and everyone dispersed.

It was already sunset.

Glenn Holt returned home, his wife Jamie has changed into a dress, hurried to help her husband take care of some, the couple rushed to the west side of the 16th district of a mansion, here a cocktail party has just opened.

The organizer of the cocktail party was the president of another 'Scorpio Education Equality Foundation', named Bernard Vial, who used to work in a public welfare foundation under the United Nations, and had just gotten this job a while ago, or after Glenn Holt's introduction.

Therefore, seeing the appearance of the Holt couple, the Vier family all behaved very warmly.

After exchanging pleasantries and greeting the other guests at the scene, only then did Glenn Holt and Bernard Vierle walk to a corner of the living room and asked with a smile, "How did that recent job go?"

"Only picked nine little ones, and three girls, I don't know if the top would be happy with that," said Bernard Vieille, shaking his head, "You know, it's not easy to be half-breed, and smart enough, I could hardly resist cheating, you know, they all look black anyway, who Know if it's a hybrid."

Glenn Holt scanned the area and smiled, reminding his old friend, "Hey, don't say things like that, and watch out for trouble."

Bernard's eyes were shrewd, "I'm only going to say that in front of you, you wouldn't rat me out, would you?"

"If I was going to betray you, I wouldn't be able to hook you up with this job," Glenn said and took a look around, smiling, "Sierra has wanted to move to District 16 for a long time, and if you hadn't gotten this job in exchange, you'd never have been able to with the salary you used to get."

"Of course, Glenn, I'll never forget this favor."

The two middle-aged men, both in their forties and fifties, said they were still sobbing a bit, once upon a time, they were considered idealists, just like those young men under them. It's just that, after all these years, in the end, also see too many things, whether it's the United Nations or the multifarious foundations of various countries, there are too many internal twists and turns.

So the innocence that I once had has long gone.

To hold on to something a little bit, at the same time, to be able to live a little bit better, let the family live a little bit better, for the middle-aged Bernard Vial, is the best result.

However, during this time, Bernard Vieille was still inevitably confused, when he lowered his voice once again and asked, "Glenn, could you reveal to me exactly who we are working for, and since it's a charity, I don't think it's necessary to hide it like that at all?"

Glenn Holt scanned the area again, also lowering his voice, "Bernard, I would advise you not to explore this."

"You seem to know?"

"Just a guess," Glenn Holt hesitated for a moment, facing the curious stares of his long-time friend, and finally said, "Perhaps, something to do with Simon Westeros."

Bernard Vieille had a surprised expression, "Simon Westeros?"

"Hey, keep it down."

Bernard was busy putting on an expression, but said, "I don't think it's a bad thing, so why cover it up?"

Glenn Holt's lips revealed a hint of a meaningless smile, shaking his head slightly, "In short, let's just do what we need to do, the rest, it has nothing to do with us."

In the past few months since he joined the company, Glenn Holt had also hinted that something was wrong, but he was only an end-executor after all, and in the end, he was unable to see the whole picture, and was unable to understand certain people's intentions too clearly. The only thing that was certain was that, whether it was the 'Aries' that he was in charge of or the 'Scorpio' that his best friend was in charge of, the purpose was not pure.

But what does that have to do with them?

They are just enforcers.

Although the salary was much higher than it once was, as long as they paid their taxes reasonably and didn't think anything of the foundation's funds, they wouldn't be involved too much, even if something really happened in the future. After all, no matter which way you look at it, these two foundations are only giving and not getting anything in return.

If it was a money laundering tool, but it was definitely not this kind of washing method.

The cocktail party lasted until ten o'clock in the evening, one after another to send the guests away, but Bernard Vieille had little sleep, came to the study, one by one, reviewed the information of the nine children selected during this period of time, and the foundation's several charitable programs aimed at the education of disadvantaged groups in France to support the charitable program.

When his wife appeared and looked at his watch, he realized it was early in the morning.

Sierra Vieille put her hands on her husband's shoulders to help him rub, leaned over to look at the information on the desk, and said, "It's late, dear, how about work tomorrow?"

Bernard smiled and raised his hand to pat the back of his wife's hand, "Good."

Sierra Vieille, yet inevitably curious, indicated a stack of files on the table, "What are these?"

"The list of scholarship candidates," said Bernard, "Anyway, that's what the council told me, and even though it's called the 'Scorpio Foundation for Educational Equity', I think it's unfair to focus on that. But, as you know, I'm just doing things, I don't have the authority to ask too many questions."

"Then don't ask," Sierra Vieille was half serious, half joking, "It's a great job, and I don't want you running around the world like you used to and earning ...... you know, I'm all for it, but Tony and Deborah, they're both going off to college already, and you haven't spent much time with them over the years."

"I promise," Bernard turned to take his wife's small hand, and remembering something else, said, "By the way, one of the Foundation's trustees was talking to me the other day about the kids going to college, and he said he could probably help."

Sierra Meyer was confused and expectant, "Help?"

"Yes," said Bernard, "but he also said that it's not the French side, and that the contacts are in places like America, England and Australia."

"Did you ask what schools?"

"No, you know, I've only just got to know the Council side," Bernard shrugged, seeing his wife's disappointment, "There's a meeting tomorrow morning, I can ask, but if I remember correctly, Tony and Deborah, they don't seem to be doing very well academically? "

Sierra Meyerton was grumbling in her grudges, "Yeah, you're a father who finally remembers correctly."

"Well, I apologize."

"Why don't you do this, invite that council member over to the house for dinner this weekend and meet Tony and the others."

Bernard nodded at his wife's expectation, "I'll try, the other guy seems busy and I don't know if he's available, and since ...... you shouldn't expect too much."

"As long as Tony and Deborah can go to a good university, my life will be complete, it's okay to go abroad, there are no too top universities here in France."

"You still seem to have high expectations."

"Of course, the two kids are my own."

"......"

An apologetic Bernard was once again speechless.

After spending a few more moments together, and temporarily sending his wife away, Bernard Vieille put the newly re-examined batch of mixed-race black teenagers' files into a file bag that he intended to personally deliver to that council member at tomorrow's meeting.