Sun fall ca quietly.
The western block did not.
Four n lingered near the old textile warehouse, pretending to argue over scrap tal and other junks.
They weren’t arguing. They were watching.
From the rooftops in the distance, Adam, Hans’s very first Army Soldier, lowered his binoculars.
"Red dot confird," he muttered. "Everyone, move."
A squad advanced without a warning. Then chaos ca.
One man ran away, but he couldn’t make it past the next alley.
Another reached for a concealed pistol, too scrapped to be even called one.
As his fingers touched the rusting tal, his dead body long fell to the ground.
He never fired, nor even knew how he died.
The third dropped to his knees before anyone touched him.
The fourth... died with regrets.
Alexei walked out of the shadows. He scanned each corpse, noticing a few details.
"These are recent survivors," he spoke. "Search the area. There may be others nearby."
...
By the ti the council had gathered next morning, the western block had gone quiet.
The comforting quietness mixed with the oppressive air.
The long table at the center stood the sa as before, but no one spoke as freely as they once had.
News of the altercations in the western block has spread recently.
Eight bodies, dead. Dozens more jailed.
Barely had anyone grasped the situation when it happened. As for whatever it was about, nobody aside from the affected dared to speak out.
The soldiers and the patrols were the real deal.
The council mbers had long known of this fact. A few even mused the stubborn minds of those who had ulterior motives in the colony.
The leader had shown his power. Why would you be so suicidal as to try to usurp his power?
Hans entered without announcent, interrupting their subtle discussions and internal monologues.
Alexei and Selene followed after him. On their hands were stacks of papers, gathering curiosity from the council mbers.
Everyone stood in attention, watching Hans observe them one by one.
Coby Black. His electrical engineering skills developed greatly during this ti. Deploynt of the generators and solar panels allowed him to know more rather than just sitting on a desk reading boring engineering books.
Roger Tancredi. Though his punching skills didn’t improve, his ability to lead a few of the construction and repurposing projects has garnered awe of many workers in the colony. Many feared his stern approach, but nobody would shy away either.
Elena Glendale. Her status as a colony’s leading cook remained high. Everyone may have started to cook for themselves, but workers didn’t hassle themselves with such a tedious task. Might as well grab a few more taste of Elena’s food, than take another bite from their half-baked fodder.
Lira Mindoza. Once a student nurse who trembled at the sight of blood, still traumatized by the recent horrific infestation. Now, her back stood straighter than before, her sleeves rolled up, hands no longer shaking.
Hans swept his eyes across the four of them. From the dozen council mbers that founded this colony, only they remained.
Besides them, a new wave of mbers sprouted.
Caleb Hartmann. Walter Briggs’ successor. Younger, broader, grease permanently staining his nails. He spoke less than his predecessor, but the machines he handled obeyed him without complaint.
Floyd Watson. A thin-frad young man whose spectacles cracked on one side. For so unknown reason, he always carried a rolled blueprint under his arm. He had an architect’s mind before the world collapsed. Now, he redesigned ruins in the colony into repurposed structures where the people gathered for work or lived personally.
Lloyd Shaw. He stood out from the rest with his sunburnt skin and calloused hands. Farming was a hobby he once sought for enjoynt. Now, this man was responsible for turning soil scraped from anywhere into food.
Hans’s eyes lingered on Lloyd for a while, rembering his great dedication in revising the farming policies Hans worked on before.
Lloyd’s rejection did not incite bitterness from Hans. Rather, he would be very much open in delegating this burden to a willing person.
Then his eyes moved to the next.
Jasper Adams. The dical director. Clean beard, sharp eyes, movents precise. He didn’t waste words nor dicine. In a world of death, he rationed the life of others. He even distanced himself from the rest.
Billy Turner. The colony’s new logistics officer. Markus’s death left a void that couldn’t be replaced so easily. Billy’s appearance saved Hans a lifeti of pursuit. Broad shoulders and restless eyes. Hans observed Billy morizing supply counts the way others morized prayers. Nothing moved in or out of the colony without passing his ledger.
If Markus was strict, Billy was even stricter. Not even Hans could get past such a tedious wall without any proper docuntation.
Occasional fights sparked near the logistics office, but all of that was mitigated by the lady that Hans’s eyes motioned into.
Maya Ross. A forr community counselor. She was soft-spoken and always watched everything. She spent more ti listening than talking. In a colony built on fear, she was the only one people dared to confide in.
Beside her was Billy’s notorious rival.
Milana Porter. A resource and trade officer from a customs company. Her hair was tied back tightly, her posture as sharp as Hans’s soldiers. She negotiated with survivors and workers alike with the heart of a rchant on a dying empire.
Selene’s report praised Milana as firm, calculating, and rarely cheated others. Because of this, so residents opted to scavenge deeper into the city, knowing Milana would not swindle them out of their prized loot.
This was no longer a gathering of survivors clinging to hope in the apocalypse. It was a large institution taking shape.
Seven new council mbers. Seven new faces.
The colony has expanded from a asly fifty plus population to well over a hundred more.
The urban fringe still had space to expand. The council, in its old form, did not.
They lacked hands to settle grievances on each growing issue. They lacked eyes to oversee other fields they had overlooked before.
Hans did not want to strangle himself nor the old council with stacking responsibilities. This expansion was not generosity. It was intentional and a necessity.
"I greet everyone with a pleasant morning," he smiled. "Now that we are in quorum, let us start the eting now, shall we?"
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