Making a Statement

Ethan had made up his mind:

Wait. Watch. Let them move first.

But that didn't mean he was going to sit still.

He knew—sooner or later—someone would make a move.

That meant: security upgrades.

He had his police-grade ballistic helmet. His vest. His sidearm.

But…

He looked down at his legs.

"No protection there."

Frowning, he reached into his dimensional space and pulled out an extra vest.

"Chloe," he called. "Give me a hand."

She took the vest, eyes lighting up.

"For me?"

"No. I need it repurposed."

Disappointed but obedient, she took a pair of shears and began cutting the seams.

The material was tough—designed to stop bullets, not be altered.

It took effort, but eventually she separated the vest into two panels.

Ethan wrapped them around his thighs and secured them under his snow gear.

"Improvised bulletproof pants."

"Not perfect. But better than nothing."

Once geared up, Ethan's mind turned back to the bigger picture.

"I need to shake things up."

His neighbors were getting too comfortable—too dependent.

They'd started seeing him as a savior.

That was dangerous.

He didn't want followers.

He wanted tools.

So he opened the community group chat and dropped a bombshell.

"@everyone: Important announcement from Building 25."

"We've got a problem."

"Certain buildings are threatening to take our food by force."

"They're jealous that I can go out and get supplies. They say if I don't share, they'll attack us."

The chat exploded instantly.

Everyone had just started believing they might survive.

And now this?

"Screw those bastards! Let them find their own food!"

"If they come here, we fight! No one touches our rations!"

"We've got Ethan! We're not afraid!"

But not everyone was brave.

Some hesitated.

"There's only 30 or 40 of us… what if they all come together?"

"Should we try negotiating?"

"You think they'll talk? Everyone's starving! No one's reasonable anymore!"

"Then what? Wait for them to attack us?"

"No. We fight. We've got no choice!"

The panic swirled.

Fear. Rage. Despair.

And that was when Ethan spoke again:

"You all know the situation. Most buildings are buried. Supermarkets are gone."

"Finding food is hard. Even for me."

"If we hand over our supplies, we starve."

"I can feed myself for a few more days. If you want to survive—you decide."

"Share with them? Or keep what's ours and defend it?"

It wasn't a question.

It was a psychological trap.

The illusion of choice.

And it worked.

"Screw them. We fight!"

"They take our food, we're dead anyway!"

"They can rot in hell for all I care!"

Ethan smiled.

Now that the mob was angry, it was time to direct their rage.

"Alright then. Let's make an example."

"Tonight, Eric Lin and Jake Leung—take a squad and hit Building 26."

"Wipe out the Terra Crew."

"They've only got a few guys left."

"Do it for our fallen. And to show the others what happens when you threaten Building 25."

Eric: "Yes, sir!"

Jake: "You got it, boss!"

Ethan: "I'm tired. Spent all day outside. You boys take care of it."

Eric: "Totally understand, sir."

Jake: "You've done more than enough! We've got this!"

Everyone else: "Yeah! Ethan shouldn't do everything!"

Ethan tossed his phone aside, grinning, then scooped Chloe into his arms.

"Ahhh!"

She squealed, laughing.

—

An hour later, Ethan lay back on the couch, cigarette in hand.

Chloe was curled up against his chest, looking exhausted—but happy.

Ding!

A message popped up.

It was from Jake.

"Boss, the Terra Crew wasn't easy to deal with…"

Ethan chuckled.

"Of course not."

If it had been easy, he would've done it himself.

These were construction workers. Strong. Tough. Used to swinging metal and climbing structures.

They knew how to fight—and how to use terrain.

Jake's next message confirmed it.

"We lost eight people. Killed three of theirs."

Ethan's smirk widened.

"Perfect."

The Terra Crew was down to their last man.

Soon, Building 26 would fall.

And the rest?

They'd be watching.

And learning:

You don't mess with Ethan Cross.