Should I Just Kill Them All?

After some thought, Ethan Cross arrived at a very satisfying conclusion:

He was untouchable.

As long as he stayed inside Building 25, nobody—not even the other 29 buildings combined—could touch him.

In this kind of world, where food was scarce and the cold could kill in minutes, even walking outside for two minutes felt like torture.

Twenty men now couldn't do the work of one man pre-apocalypse.

"I'm safe, no question."

"Worst case, I hop on the snowmobile and go full guerrilla mode. I've got the weapons. I can bleed them out over time."

"But... that's a hell of a lot of work."

"Do I really want to go out and kill my way through all 29 buildings?"

Ethan frowned, deep in thought.

If he didn't strike first, they'd come for him eventually.

So what was better?

Wipe them out now—or find a smarter way?

He opened his chat with Jason Lee.

Unlike Celia, Jason had been calm, professional, even deferential.

His message thread was already active:

"Mr. Cross, I appreciate your time. I'd like to propose a sincere collaboration between us."

"Here in Building 18, we've only lost five elderly residents—unfortunately due to the extreme cold."

"We've established a harmonious, resource-sharing model. Everyone contributes, and conflict has been almost non-existent."

"I believe in preserving civilization. Our building is a small piece of what humanity used to be."

"But we lack outside access. If we partner with you, we're prepared to offer labor, logistics support, and political leverage with other buildings."

Ethan couldn't help but smile.

Now this… is how you talk to a warlord.

Short. Direct. Strategic.

Not like Celia's nonsense.

"Dr. Chloe," he called out, "What do you know about Building 18?"

Chloe paused, still kneeling at his feet.

"From what I've heard, their coordinator—Jason Lee—is a respected figure."

"When things started falling apart, he got everyone organized quickly. They pooled their resources and followed a centralized plan."

"They're the only building I've heard of where no one died from fighting."

Ethan nodded.

"Makes sense. He's a CFO. Knows how to manage people and maximize value."

In theory, Jason had done it right.

Where Ethan's building had imploded with internal conflict, Jason had created order.

"If people stay idle," Ethan mused, "they barely burn calories. One meal a day is enough to survive."

"He really might be a useful ally."

But then Ethan's expression darkened.

"Still… that kind of peace doesn't last."

"When someone like Tony Chen or the Terra Gang shows up, what happens then?"

"People trained in peace are useless in war."

He typed:

"What if I say no to your offer?"

Jason replied after a long pause:

"That would be unfortunate. But it wouldn't end our conversation."

"People change. Circumstances change. We'll be here—if you ever reconsider."

Ethan smirked.

"Now that's how you dodge a bullet."

"So... if other buildings attack me, you guys won't join them?"

Jason's next reply was honest:

"We'll defend ourselves, of course. But we don't believe in starting fights."

"Desperate infighting will only lead to mutual destruction."

Ethan nearly clapped.

That's how you say "we're too scared to fight" while sounding like a saint.

To be fair, they weren't wrong.

Fighting him? Waste of time.

Losing? Inevitable.

But if someone else beat Ethan?

They could swoop in later for the spoils.

Ethan sent one last message:

"I'll think about it."

Then he closed the thread and opened his contact requests.

He'd ignored most of them—just another parade of people begging for food.

But now?

Everyone wanted to talk.

Building by building.

Leader after leader.

All of them saying the same thing:

"Let's work together."

"We can offer labor, women, loyalty."

The details varied—but not by much.

Ethan lay back on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

"There are only two options now: war… or peace."

"If I go to war, I'll have to wipe out anyone who might threaten me."

"Not impossible. But... costly."

He had over a thousand rounds of ammo—thanks to that police station haul.

But that number wasn't infinite.

Fighting 30 buildings?

He might run out before it was over.

"And that's assuming ideal conditions," he muttered.

"What if they don't come out?"

"I can't just storm buildings. Too risky."

"And honestly? I'm not some psycho butcher."

Most people in Crestview Heights hadn't wronged him personally.

Slaughtering hundreds of survivors just to stay on top?

"Might mess with my head," he admitted.

"Hell, I might break myself in the process."

He rubbed his temples.

"Mass murder… not the best plan."

"It's not off the table. But it's not Plan A."