Chapter 98: The Shadowed Collector

The moment I stepped into the town square, I could feel the tension thick in the air. Survivors stood in clusters, their expressions a mix of fear, resentment, and reluctant submission. They knew why I was here. They knew what my presence meant.

I adjusted the strap of my rifle and kept my posture relaxed but firm. Around me, my handpicked men maintained formation—disciplined, quiet, and exuding an aura of control. The medium-sized survivor group, now self-proclaimed tax collectors under UNO's authority, had come just a week prior, stripping these people of supplies under the guise of stability. I was here to do the same, at least on the surface. But I would do it differently.

"James," a voice called out. I turned to see a wiry man with hollow cheeks stepping forward. He was their de facto leader, Elias, a man who had once been a schoolteacher before the world fell apart. Now, he looked like a shadow of his former self, but there was still fire in his eyes.

"We have little left," Elias said, voice strained. "We gave what we could to the last collectors. If you take more, we won't make it through the next few weeks."

I nodded, feigning deep contemplation. "I understand your situation, Elias. The UNO doesn't. They only care about quotas." I turned my voice up so the gathered crowd could hear. "But I'm not here to drain you dry. I'm here to negotiate. I don't want you all starving."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. This was what I wanted—seeds of doubt against the UNO, a sliver of trust toward me.

I gestured to one of my men, who carried a ledger. "We will take only what you can afford, not a grain more. Unlike the previous collectors, I'll ensure a portion remains here for your survival."

Elias studied me, suspicion flickering in his gaze. "And why would you do that?"

"Because I don't want you to see me as your enemy." I let my words settle. "The UNO does not care if you live or die. I do."

I turned to my men. "Gather what's reasonable. Nothing more."

As my people moved, I subtly observed the crowd. The tension was lessened, but resentment hadn't vanished. That was expected. I needed more time to fully shift their perspective.

Then, as if summoned by fate, a gunshot rang through the air.

Chaos erupted. I dove for cover behind a rusted-out vehicle as bullets tore through the air. Screams filled the square as my men scrambled for defensive positions.

"They're here!" one of my men shouted. "Resistance fighters!"

So, they had finally come.

I had suspected someone would take issue with my new role. Resistance groups scattered across the land despised anyone associated with the UNO. I was no exception. Even if my intentions were different, they wouldn't see that.

A second wave of gunfire sent dust and debris flying. I peeked over the car's edge, spotting figures moving in the shadows between buildings. They were organized, strategic, and well-armed—unlike the desperate scavengers I had faced before.

"Hold position!" I ordered. "Do not engage unless necessary!"

My men were trained, disciplined. They weren't panicked, but they were ready. I had drilled them well.

A voice rang out from the shadows. "James! We know who you are! You're just another dog of the UNO!"

I exhaled slowly. Time to turn this to my advantage.

"I don't work for them," I shouted back. "I work for the people."

A scoff echoed. "Then why are you collecting their taxes?"

I smiled to myself. "To protect these people from worse."

Silence. They were listening.

I continued, pushing my voice so everyone could hear. "You think stopping me will help them? You think the UNO will just leave them alone if I disappear? No. They'll send someone else—someone crueler, someone without conscience. And when that happens, these people will suffer more."

Another shot fired, but it wasn't directed at us. It was a warning, an expression of frustration. The resistance wasn't unified in their hatred, not yet.

I pressed on. "You know I'm right. I'm giving these people a chance, a buffer against the real tyranny."

The leader of the resistance hesitated. I could see their silhouette in the distance, uncertain now. I had cracked their confidence.

Then, Elias spoke, stepping forward. "He's telling the truth."

I turned to him, masking my surprise. He was making a gamble, siding with me. A week ago, he wouldn't have. But now? Now, he saw what I was doing.

"If James wanted to hurt us, he would have done so already," Elias continued. "But he didn't. He's trying to keep us alive while making sure the UNO doesn't bring their wrath on us. If we drive him out, we'll be left defenseless when real oppressors come."

Tension held the air captive. The resistance leader shifted, then gave a short nod. "This isn't over."

Then, like ghosts, they disappeared into the ruins.

I released a slow breath. That had been close.

Elias turned to me. "I don't like you," he admitted. "But I believe you're our best option."

"That's all I need," I said.

As my men resumed their work, I allowed myself a moment of satisfaction. The UNO's reputation was further tainted, and mine had grown stronger. The resistance hadn't become an ally, but they weren't a direct enemy anymore. And the people? They were beginning to see me as their only real choice.

The game continued, and I was still ahead.

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Author Thoughts:

In a world where law and order have crumbled, morality becomes fluid. James is navigating a dangerous line—manipulating people's perception while ensuring survival. But is he truly different from the UNO? Is it justified to deceive if the outcome benefits the people? Would you take his approach, using diplomacy and manipulation to protect others? Or would you resist any form of oppression, even if it led to greater suffering?

what would you do in James's position?