Chapitre 18: Making an Appearance
Fatigue lined Richard's features as he released a weary sigh, his hand moving across the paper with a fountain pen, etching out his speech.
"Sir, we have thirty minutes until the orientation begins," Mark reported, placing a steaming cup of coffee on Richard's desk.
Richard reached for the cup, the warmth seeping through the ceramic and into his tired fingers.
"Who would've thought that crafting a speech could be this challenging," Richard mused, his gaze briefly lifting from the paper. He was determined to make a lasting impact on the survivors they had rescued within the condominium. To him, a well-delivered speech held the potential to foster unity and instill hope among them.
"Well, sir, you are just lacking sleep," Mark said. "You should rest after delivering the speech. After all, you've been awake for twenty-four hours."
Mark was right, he hadn't slept since the apocalypse started. Yesterday was a loaded activity, sweeping the buildings of zombies, rescuing his sister, organizing his organization, and overseeing the cleanup of the corpses of the zombies they eliminated on every building and floor.
The relentless demands of leadership, coupled with the urgency of their situation, had left little room for rest.
With a faint smile, Richard nodded in agreement. "Okay, I'll take that advice."
"Sir!" A voice rang out, brimming with enthusiasm. Richard turned his gaze toward the source, recognizing it to be Graves, his newly appointed Chief of Staff for Special Operations.
Graves stood before him, a crisp salute punctuating his greeting. "Good morning, sir!"
"Good morning, Graves," Richard replied, acknowledging the salutation. "What brings you here?"
"I just wanted to report that our soldiers are currently escorting every civilian to the function room, and they're holding them there as we speak," Graves informed. "Also, I wanted to express my gratitude for the promotion you've given me. Though I must admit, I still have the itch to work in the field."
A small smile tugged at the corners of Richard's lips. "Don't worry, Graves. Your field experience won't go to waste. I fully intend to give you the opportunity to lead operations on the ground. The promotion is more about ensuring a structured hierarchy within our ranks. I hope you understand."
Graves nodded in understanding. "Of course, sir. I appreciate the clarification."
Richard acknowledged Graves's loyalty with a nod before turning his attention to the flat television screen mounted on the wall. The television displayed real-time footage of the survivors filling the function room and taking their seats.
***
Twenty-five minutes later.
On the eighth floor. Lisa and her classmates were in a line with the other civilian survivors of the condominium. They were being directed and guided by the soldiers on the ground, who waved their hands to guide the survivors into the spacious function room.
"There's really a lot of people here…" Angela observed.
"And they are all rich-looking," Denise added. "As expected of a high-end condominium."
"Yeah…but not like their money is going to matter in this apocalypse," Lisa said softly.
"What do you think your brother is going to say?" Angela asked.
"Probably to assure everyone that everything is going to be okay, words like that," Lisa anticipated. "Oh…we are approaching the entrance now."
The soldiers who stood by the entrance raised a hand, stopping them.
"Excuse me miss, are you Lisa Gonzales?"
"I am…" Lisa confirmed. "Why?"
"Our boss has prepared a special seat for you and your classmates," the soldier explained politely. "Please follow me."
Lisa exchanged surprised glances with her classmates before nodding at the soldier's request. The soldier led them down the central aisle, past rows of filled seats.
Lisa's gaze swept over the faces of the survivors, noting a mix of expressions—hope, concern, and the shared weight of their circumstances.
Finally, the soldier stopped at the front row, where seven empty seats awaited.
"Here you go, miss," the soldier said, gesturing to the seats.
"Thank you," she replied softly.
The minutes ticked by, and the function room gradually filled to capacity. Minutes later, the lights dimmed slightly, and a hush fell over the room as Richard stepped up to the podium.
"Your brother looks cool in his military outfit…" Denise whispered. "I didn't realize this by now."
"Shh…it's starting," Lisa gently patted Denise's thigh, shutting her up.
Richard cleared his throat and began.
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. You must all be wondering why you're here. Well, I have a few matters to address. But first, let me introduce myself. I'm Richard Gonzales, the CEO of the Private Military Company known as Blackwatch. Twenty-four hours ago, when the apocalypse began, the world as we know it fell apart. Major cities are under siege, and governments are crumbling. It's with a heavy heart that I tell you, we're now on our own to face this unprecedented threat.
During our sweep of this building, many of you mistook us for members of the Armed Forces of the Philippines. I want to clarify right now that we're not affiliated with the national government or any other country. However, I assure you that, just like the government's military, we're committed to keeping everyone within these walls safe.
And for that, I ask for your cooperation. All of your food, water, and essential supplies in your units should be brought to the seventh floor. We'll distribute them evenly among ourselves. Second, I ask those of you with medical, engineering, or other useful skills to please come to offer your expertise and assistance. Third, those who are able-bodied, men and women alike, are to participate in training for self-defense. You will be taught how to fight and eliminate zombies, and you'll be added to our forces.
I want everyone to contribute because we're currently at war with the undead. We can't face this challenge alone—we need every single one of you. Now, let's discuss the rules here. Felony crimes such as murder, assault, and rape will not be tolerated. Anyone found guilty of these offenses will face execution by firing squad. When it comes to misdemeanor crimes, there will be three levels of offenses, each with escalating penalties. The most severe consequence is expulsion, which means being removed from our community.
I urge everyone to use common sense. Just because an apocalypse has occurred doesn't mean we abandon our humanity.
Furthermore, we'll set up an assistance desk. If you have any information, concerns, or suggestions, or you want to report someone for a crime, don't hesitate to approach them.
As for the security of this condominium, we're happy to announce that this condominium is now zombie-free, thanks to the tireless efforts of the soldiers who worked day and night to exterminate them. However, it doesn't mean we will lower our guard. We will maintain round-the-clock security patrols. I guess I have covered everything. That will be all, thank you for listening, please don't clap, we don't want to attract the zombies outside."
When Richard concluded his speech, a notification tab appeared.
[New Mission Unlocked: Rescuing Survivors]
[For every human being you saved, one less zombie to fight. In this mission, you are to save survivors as much as you can and get handsome rewards.
Reward: 5,000 gold coins per person.
Duration: Unlimited,]
[Since you have rescued a total of 277 survivors, you will receive 1,385,000 gold coins.]
Richard gasped inwardly. So he could now farm gold coins by saving people huh?
Chapitre 19: Recalled Something Important
Richard woke up, his body gradually emerging from sleep's grasp. He sat up in bed, letting out a tired yawn and rubbing his eyes to clear the last remnants of drowsiness.
"What time is it?" Richard mumbled, his voice still carrying traces of sleep. He glanced over at the digital clock resting in the nearby drawer. The red numbers showed it was eight-thirty in the evening.
Getting out of bed, he went through his usual routine. A quick shower washed away any lingering sleepiness, and he slipped into his military uniform. Without wasting time, he headed to the command center, which was conveniently located in the adjacent unit.
When Richard entered the command center, the military staff inside paused what they were doing and saluted him as a show of respect.
"At ease," Richard motioned with a downward wave of his hand, prompting the military staff to disengage from their salutes and continue their tasks.
The military staffers returned to their work. He caught sight of Mark who was approaching him.
"Sir, did you manage to get some sleep?" Mark asked.
Richard managed a tired smile. "Yeah, finally got some rest. Much needed."
As he settled into his desk, Richard's posture invited further discussion, a subtle lean communicating approachability.
"Any updates I should know about?"
"Uh, yes, sir," Mark affirmed, Mark confirmed as he watched Richard take his seat. "Regarding provisions, the survivors have pitched in—there's rice, bottled water, canned goods, frozen food, and various other supplies. On the operational front, the personnel you brought in before your rest are executing their tasks without a hitch."
Before Richard went to sleep, he purchased personnel from his system to fill the vacant role of Chief of Staff. Each cost 2,500 gold coins, an investment is needed to streamline the bureaucracy of the Blackwatch Private Military Company.
"Were there any survivors who arrived in the condominium while I was sleeping?" Richard asked. After his speech, he received a new type of mission that would reward him for every survivor rescued. In response, he issued a decree stipulating that the Blackwatch would provide refuge to survivors making their way to the Oriental Condominiums.
Mark shook his head. "Unfortunately, sir, there were none. It seems the survivors in the vicinity remain hesitant, possibly fearing to emerge from their hideouts. However, sir, I do have some reservations concerning the decree."
"Hmm?" Richard's head inclined slightly, a nonverbal prompt inviting Mark to continue.
"Well, sir," Mark began. "While the intention behind the decree is undoubtedly noble, we're encountering a constraint. Our current food supplies are not in abundance, and adding more survivors could strain our resources significantly."
"Really? Even with the contributions of the survivors, there's still not enough for everyone?" Richard asked.
Mark nodded his head. "That's correct sir. According to the Chief of Staff of Logistics, the food supply that we have will only last us for five days."
Richard expressed his disapproval with a click of his tongue... During the zombie apocalypse, the shortage of food was always a big concern. He could use his system to buy food, but the only things on offer were MREs and bottled water. Plus, even if he can buy food from the system, it would cost him gold coins – a valuable currency that could be better spent on essentials like ammunition and fuel.
"What's more, sir," Mark interjected. "You're considering expanding our troop numbers, aren't you? But it's worth noting that with every new addition, the demand for sustenance grows as well. Ensuring our troops are properly fed is crucial for maintaining their efficiency and effectiveness in carrying out their duties."
"I know, Mark," Richard acknowledged with a heavy exhale. "So let's address that problem head-on. If we need food, we'll get it. Makati City has plenty of supermarkets. We can loot supplies there. But as we all know, in the apocalypse scenario, supermarkets are one of the hotspots. The go-to for survivors and, unfortunately, for those who might have turned. It won't be an easy task."
Mark nodded in agreement. "You're right, sir. Supermarkets are a double-edged sword—plenty of resources, but also potential danger. I'm also sure that the supermarkets have already been looted."
Richard shook his head. "I don't think so. It hasn't been two days since the apocalypse, I'm sure there's still a lot of food left there."
"So you are considering conducting a scavenging operation, sir?" Mark asked.
"I do. Get me the Chief of Staff of the Army. I want to know what we will need…" Richard trailed off as he remembered something important. "Hold that order. The scavenging operation can wait, my parents, I need to rescue them."
"What is it, sir?"
"My parents are stuck in our house in Montalban Rizal. I have to rescue them…" Richard said as he rose to his feet with a determined expression.
"In that case sir, do you want me to call the Chief of Staff of Special Operations and the Air Force?"
"Yes, I want to meet them in my new office."
***
Building A comprises ten rooms. It's situated lower in comparison to the other floors, as the highest floor is reserved for the condominium's luxurious offerings. When Richard cleared this particular floor, he found it conveniently vacant—some owners were away, and a few units remained unoccupied. Consequently, the thirtieth floor evolved into the command center due to its spaciousness.
Each unit has been turned into an office for the Chief of Staff, a meeting room, and a personal living space and office for Richard.
***
Richard arrived at his office and took in the surroundings. Much like a typical upscale office space, it featured a sleek desk, floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a view of the city skyline, a leather chair and a comfortable sofa, and an array of modern technology seamlessly integrated into the environment.
A knock on the door pulled him from his sightseeing, and Mark entered.
"Sir, the Chief of Staff of Special Operations and the Air Force have arrived," Mark informed.
"Good, let them in," Richard said, making his way to his new desk.
The door opened, and the two officers entered. Richard glanced at the Chief of Staff of the Air Force as he was new to the team. A tall Caucasian in his mid-thirties, a high-and-tight haircut like Graves, wearing a navy blue service dress uniform.
'I should fix my system and change the race of my personnel,' Richard thought as he realized it might be hard to explain to the doubters why Westerners are working for him.
"Sir, Chief of Special Operations, Graves, and Chief of the Air Force, Stephen," Mark introduced, gesturing to each officer in turn.
"Take a seat," Richard beckoned, gesturing towards the chairs in front of his desk.
Stephen, the Chief of the Air Force, took a seat and nodded respectfully. "It's an honor to meet you, sir. It's my first time seeing you."
Graves, the Chief of the Special Operation, followed suit. "I was informed that you have a rescue operation in mind?"
"That's correct," Richard confirmed with a nod. "They are in Montalban Rizal, approximately thirty-two kilometers away from here. The reason I called you is that I want to entrust this operation to you Graves."
"You can count on me sir," Graves confidently replied.
"As for the Chief of the Air Force, I want your counsel. We have Pave Hawks but we don't have attack helicopters. Perhaps you can suggest an aircraft I can buy to support this operation? I'm sure you are debriefed that there are mutated zombies with supernatural strengths and one that can fly."
"I can help you with that sir," Stephen said. "Since we don't have runways, fighter jets are a no-go. For helicopters, we can opt for Apache or Viper."
Richard browsed his system to look for those aircraft. "Apache is not displaying in my shop. I think my level is low enough. But the Viper is on display and it costs 1,400,000 gold coins."
"Well, Bell AH-1Z Viper is a good choice," Stephen replied. "It's a versatile attack helicopter that can provide fire support and engage ground targets effectively.
Richard nodded as he considered the options. "Alright then, I'll proceed with the procurement process…Oh yeah, I forgot, for procurement of new military hardware, all Chiefs of Staff must give me a list of what they need because you know better. I will give the list of available products in my system. Mark, can I trust you in disseminating that news?"
"Of course sir," Mark said.
"When are we going to start the rescue operation sir," Graves asked.
"What time is it now?"
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