Ethan lounged on the carpet, playing video games and snacking on imported treats. Life was pretty damn good.
Across Bayview City—hell, across 99% of the globe—people were dealing with a total blackout and water outage.
The water issue was slightly easier to manage. If you were desperate enough, you could go outside and melt some snow.
But electricity? That was the real killer.
People in the modern world were soft. Being forced to survive in -60°F temperatures without heat? It was a death sentence.
To be fair, it wasn't the government's fault. Power plants hadn't failed so much as they couldn't find workers willing—or able—to show up.
Ethan remembered: eventually, there would be short bursts of electricity available. The authorities weren't trying to let the public freeze to death.
But the supply was pitiful. Just enough to charge your phone or boil a cup of water.
Forget about air conditioners or space heaters. High-wattage appliances were a thing of the past.
In the group chat, the neighbors were practically howling.
They were desperate, terrified, and hoping someone would take control. Anyone.
Curtis Shaw, the neighborhood thug whose leg Ethan had thoroughly ruined, was now basically waiting to freeze to death.
With an injury like that in sub-zero temperatures, he didn't stand a chance.
And his goons? Worse. The ones Ethan had hosed down were all feverish, some pushing 104°F.Without meds, without proper shelter, they were going to die of illness long before starvation.
That's exactly why Ethan hadn't killed them outright.Let them rot slowly. Much more satisfying.
He sat cross-legged on his thick carpet, gaming in a toasty 80°F room while a blizzard howled outside.
Food, light, warmth, entertainment—he had it all.
If anything was missing, maybe it was a girl to keep him company.But Ethan wasn't horny and brain-dead. Not anymore.
He'd been burned before. Badly.
Until he could 100% guarantee someone wouldn't stab him in the back for a can of tuna, no one would be stepping foot into his fortress.
He'd once seen a woman beat her own husband to death for a pack of instant noodles. Never again.
Then his phone lit up again.
Ethan grinned.Sure enough—Linda had posted in the building group chat.
"Due to the worsening snowstorm and its impact on our daily lives..."
"Per official notice, the blizzard will continue for a short while longer."
"To help everyone survive with dignity, the Neighborhood Committee will now begin collecting supplies from each household for centralized redistribution."
"This is a government directive. All residents must comply. Anyone who refuses will face consequences once order is restored."
"Don't think you're above the system just because you stocked up. Everyone has a weakness."
Ethan chuckled coldly.
Same playbook as last time.
Linda, as a committee member, had just enough inside information to fake authority—but not enough brains to make it convincing.
She probably already knew the city government had collapsed.Now, she was trying to use fear and lies to trick people into handing over their food.
Too bad her tactics were clumsy as hell.
No actual government would issue such vague threats during a national crisis.
Still, among 50 households in the building, there were bound to be a few scared enough to believe her.
Ethan wasn't about to interfere. He was just here for the drama.
Sure enough, someone finally snapped.
Mina Wang, one of Ethan's coworkers from the warehouse, lived on the 15th floor.She'd always been frugal, often bringing back extras from work. People knew her pantry was well-stocked.
Now Linda was coming for her supplies.
Mina posted:
"We're snowed in. We can't go anywhere. Most people are barely hanging on, and you want to collect our food? Are you serious?"
Another guy chimed in—Sam Chen:
"Everyone's struggling right now. It wasn't easy to prepare. Asking people to give up their food? That's crossing the line."
Linda snapped.
"I told you—extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures!"
"This won't last long. We're just asking for a little redistribution so everyone gets a chance."
"Some families have nothing left. Are you really that selfish?"
She was trying to guilt-trip them now.
And of course, those who hadn't prepared came crawling out to support her:
"She's right! We're neighbors—we should help each other out!"
"It's just food. Once things are back to normal, we'll pay everyone back."
"This is a government decision! Anyone who refuses will have to deal with the consequences!"
The chat descended into chaos, split between two camps—those with supplies, and those without.
Ethan, Summer, and Claire all stayed silent.
They had food. And they weren't giving it up.
Ethan leaned back with a smirk, expecting to enjoy the show.
But Linda wasn't done.
She messaged him directly:
"Ethan, you work at the warehouse, right? I'm sure your home's well-stocked."
"Didn't you buy three carts full of supplies last time?"
"Now's your time to step up."
"Don't worry, once this is over, we'll pay you back. Everyone will remember your generosity."
Classic Linda.
First, stir up fear in the group.Then, go door-to-door in private, applying pressure one resident at a time.
If she could sucker just one person, she and her precious grandson could live a little longer.
And Ethan Cross? He was next on her hit list.