Chapter 140: Three Conditions
Frank's words gave Steven a glimpse into the life of a top-tier rich scion. But that wasn't the priority.
After finishing their gossip, Steven fixed his eyes on Frank and asked, "Tell me your plan. If I agree to work with you, how are you going to help me?"
Sensing a glimmer of hope, Frank straightened up. "I still have contact with Brock. When I told him about your situation, he got very interested in the supplies and snowmobiles you have."
He continued, "So, we can put on a show. Pretend I lured you into a trap, then have Brock open his doors. With your skills, taking him down should be a walk in the park."
Steven mulled this over before voicing his skepticism. "If Brock's shelter is worth billions, why would he be so interested in my supplies?"
He had seen enough sci-fi movies to know that such fortresses were usually stocked to sustain their occupants for years, if not decades. The idea that Brock could be short on supplies mere weeks into the crisis seemed far-fetched.
Frank scratched his head, a wry smile spreading across his face. "Thing is, that shelter’s been around for a decade. When Brock built it, it was just a novelty. Once the excitement wore off, he treated it like any other mansion. The original supplies were cleared out because they were in his way. The shelter was converted into a pleasure den, sports facility, you name it."
Steven listened, piecing together a mental map of this supposed "super shelter."
"And what about weapons and security systems? Surely such a place has heavy defenses," he queried. His experience told him that even ordinary buildings could be rigged with traps; a super shelter would be even more fortified.
At this point, Frank clammed up. "I can't tell you any more unless you agree to work with me and guarantee my safety and provisions. That's my only leverage."
Frank wasn't stupid. He knew revealing everything would render him worthless to Steven.
"Can't tell me?" Steven sneered, brandishing his gun. "Then what use do I have for you?"
Frank swallowed nervously but stood his ground. "Even if you kill me, I won't tell you. This is my only shot at surviving."
"I know you're planning to wipe us all out, right?" he added, a hint of desperation in his voice.
A flicker of surprise crossed Steven’s face. Frank had seen right through him.Steven had indeed mapped out the grim fates of his neighbors. Many had taken a share of his dwindling supplies. Once external threats were neutralized, they were expendable.
"You’ve got some brains. How did you figure that out?" Steven inquired, his smile holding an edge of menace.
Frank clenched his fists. "Because you're not a good guy. You're keeping us around only because we serve a purpose against the other buildings. With most other threats eliminated, there's no way you'll keep us alive just to feed us."
Steven slowly lowered his gun, acknowledgment in his eyes. This guy did have some smarts.
Frank said, "So, rather than waiting to die, I'd rather take a chance! Use the information I have to trade for a chance to live!"
Steven squinted at Frank, his wary mind racing to weigh the potential benefits and perils.
If Frank's claims held any truth, that billion-dollar shelter boasted unthinkable amenities: a farm, a pool, a gym, and even a pleasure room. Seizing it could elevate Steven's standard of living immeasurably.
Yet, the risks loomed large.
Firstly, trust was a scarce commodity, and Frank's track record did little to inspire confidence. No matter how grandiose the promises, Steven couldn't put faith in someone so prone to deceit.
Secondly, the unknown dangers posed a severe threat. Steven's current fortified haven had repelled numerous attacks, but Brock's shelter—an impregnable fortress designed to withstand nuclear fallout—was another matter entirely. His current arsenal seemed laughably inadequate against its defenses.
As Steven brooded in silence, Frank fidgeted nervously. The tension was palpable; rejection from Steven could very well mean Frank's immediate execution. But Frank had gambled everything on this bet—he had no alternative but to convince Steven or face inevitable doom.
After what felt like an eternity, Steven reached a decision. Fixing Frank with a cold stare, he stated, "I can agree to let you follow me. But you must adhere to a few conditions."
Frank felt a wave of relief wash over him, barely masking his elation. He had won the gamble.
"Okay, tell me!" He said eagerly, ready to comply.
Steven enumerated, "First, you need to provide a detailed account of the shelter's interior, particularly its security systems and armament."
Frank nodded enthusiastically. "Of course. Brock flaunted that shelter to half the town. I remember it well."
"Second," Steven continued, "I need you to kill someone for me."
Frank was momentarily puzzled. In this lawless world, killing was routine. But why would Steven need him to do it?
"Is there someone you can't handle? Why do you need me?" Frank queried.
With a sly smile, Steven replied, "It's someone I can't be seen taking out personally. You'll get the details soon enough."
Killing to prove loyalty was a reasonable trade for Frank. "Understood," he agreed without hesitation. This was well within his capabilities.
Steven’s expression darkened with a sinister grin. "Lastly, I have one more condition."
Frank felt a chill run down his spine. "What is it?" he asked, trying to maintain his composure.
"Go upstairs. I need to fetch something for you," Steven instructed enigmatically.
Though puzzled, Frank complied. They ascended to the 24th-floor stairwell.
"Wait here," Steven ordered. "Don't move."
As Steven disappeared into an adjacent room, Frank was left alone in the dimly lit stairwell, his mind racing with questions.
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