Chapter 112 The Setup
[Henry,] Steven began, [I don't need you to do anything drastic. The negotiation tomorrow will be on our turf. Representatives from the other 29 buildings might come over, and we need to maintain control. I want you to lead the people.]
[No problem,] Henryreplied. [If they come, I’ll make sure they’re searched and disarmed before they enter.]
[Exactly,] Steven confirmed, [and spread the word to our people to be on alert. We'll need everyone in position.]
[Got it,] Henry assured. [It's all set then.]
With Henry’s commitment secured, Steven turned his attention to the larger homeowner group chat. The participants were still pleading with him, desperate for reassurance that he wouldn’t abandon them. They hoped he would continue supplying them with food, as he had done in the past.
Steven, unwilling to waste time with pleasantries, addressed the group directly. [Tomorrow, representatives from the other 29 buildings will be here. They’re trying to force me into deciding whether to provide them with our supplies. If that’s the case, I may have to cut you off. You all know I can look after myself. But if you follow my orders and stand guard tomorrow, you might have a chance to survive. I’ll do my best to secure supplies for you as well.]
The sense of urgency in Steven’s message triggered a wave of nervous responses. The homeowners, unable to afford defiance, quickly promised their unwavering support. They knew that without Steven’s protection, they would be easy prey for the Rapids or the Crazy Wolves.
Satisfied, Steven turned to Elinor and patted her hand. “Let’s get some rest early tonight. Tomorrow’s important.”
Elinor bit her lip, then shyly whispered in his ear, “Want a 'special relax session' tonight?”
Steven chuckled, “I need to conserve my energy. So let’s keep it simple tonight.”
Elinor nodded in understanding, skillfully positioning herself in front of Steven, and lowered her head between his legs.
The next morning, Steven woke up around seven, his internal clock tuned to the day's significance. He glanced at his Rolex—still early, but anticipation had replaced any lingering sleepiness. He sat up and began assembling the equipment for the negotiation.
A bulletproof vest, modified bulletproof pants, a police helmet, a crowbar, and a machete were laid out carefully. He slipped two military knives into his pant pockets, knowing they’d be more effective in close combat than the machete. Two fully-loaded police pistols were strapped to his waist alongside six extra magazines.
But he needed more. Steven retrieved two assault rifles from his extradimensional space, both fully loaded. In a confined space, these would be devastating. The element of surprise—no one would anticipate rifles materializing from thin air.
His beloved large-caliber sniper rifle came next, the crown jewel of his arsenal. Satisfied with his preparations, Steven’s mind drifted to the dozens of boxes of grenades in his extradimensional space. He had learned grenade techniques from the internet—knowledge he was ready to employ. The thought of using them brought a cold smile to his lips.
If they all gathered in one room, a single grenade could incapacitate them, if not worse. These short to mid-range AOE weapons were deceptively simple; understanding how to arm them and the timing of the explosion was key.
Steven had never deployed them in actual combat before, but surviving the apocalypse and taking numerous lives had forged an ironclad resolve. Fear was a distant memory; he could handle these weapons without his hands quivering.
‘Next, just wait for them to walk into the trap!’ A cold, expectant smile flashed in Steven's eyes.
By early afternoon, Steven, fully equipped and armored, descended the stairs. He promptly directed everyone in the group chat to converge. The thirteenth floor, featuring a spacious one-bedroom unit, was conveniently adapted for large gatherings and sufficiently elevated to avoid stones being hurled from below. Even if hostilities erupted on the ground, he'd have ample time to retreat to his secure dwelling. Very secure.
The neighbors, eager for Steven’s provision of food, complied without hesitation and assembled. Steven, silent and observant, tossed two black duffel bags onto the floor. "Today's rations. Divide them among yourselves."
Having procured supplies the previous day, Steven had withheld distribution until now. Starving for an entire day, the sight of food drove the neighbors into a frenzy. Like ravenous dogs, they fought over the provisions with desperate fervor.
Steven watched impassively as they devoured the food. A potentially brutal conflict loomed, and he didn't harbor illusions about their survival chances. He wasn't offering a last meal out of kindness; on the contrary, he knew they'd fight harder on a full stomach.
Once the meal was finished, Steven began assigning roles. "Today's task is straightforward—just a negotiation with building managers from other complexes. We'll maintain peace; there's unlikely to be bloodshed. Your job is to hold your positions and ensure order. If the negotiation succeeds, our lives can return to normalcy, free of constant fear. Today, you must be vigilant and prevent any disruption. Do you understand?"
Steven painted a vision of an elusive utopia—a return to normalcy. His words struck a profound chord, causing none of the assembled neighbors to contain their emotions. Tears flowed freely, some covering their mouths and squatting down, overwhelmed. They had endured a descent from a harmonious society to brutal survival in just a month, committing unspeakable acts along the way. Their spirits were so battered that they often couldn't tell if they were alive or dead, finding solace only in dreams of the past.
A neighbor, voice trembling with hope, asked, "Steven, is it true? Can we... can we go back to the way things were?"
"Yes!" Steven affirmed with unwavering confidence. "As long as this negotiation prevails and our food supply is secured, the bloodshed will cease."
"For a brighter future, I ask you to give it your all today!" his voice resonated with a fervor that stoked their worn-out spirits.
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