Apocalypse Queen: My Space, My Rules Chapter 90: Five for Five

Her left foot braced into the angle between the swing board and the rope, locking in a solid anchor point. Her right leg stretched to its limit, her right foot hooking the opposite corner. Her body and the swing formed a rigid triangle.

No matter how hard Chandler pushed, her slim frame seemed fused with the swing. She wasn't going anywhere.

Right hand up. Nail gun steady. She fired.

Five steel nails in a row. Every single one hit the center of the target.

Applause and cheering erupted from the second floor.

Chandler caught the swing. Mariella launched off with a clean leap, landing as light as a butterfly.

She looked up to find her teammates already hanging out of the second-floor bedroom windows, clapping and whistling, and giving thumbs-up all around.

"This morning's monkey-swing drill. Most people didn't pass. You just scored the best result of anyone." Chandler said it evenly.

His tone was flat, but the respect came through.

Mariella had stayed the steadiest and shot the straightest.

The team had gotten another look at what their boss was capable of.

Last time, during the three-person coordinated climbing drill, Mariella had turned in the top score with the fastest reflexes. Chandler had praised her publicly. Everyone was impressed.

This time, her monkey-swing performance set off another wave. None of them had expected her marksmanship to be this sharp.

The bodyguards were arriving at a conclusion: their boss was a high-level fighter who'd been hiding it the whole time.

...

Kieran posted an announcement in the homeowners' group chat: one diesel generator per two point two pounds of gold or equivalent value in jewelry and gemstones.

Two point two pounds of gold was steep, but for the residents of Celestine Ridge, it was pocket change.

And with the power grid collapsing across the region, demand for diesel generators had exploded. On the black market, one unit was already going for 11 pounds of gold.

The listing went live, and the owners practically trampled each other signing up, fighting to put down deposits.

"No wire transfers. Gold only, or equivalent jewelry and gemstones. Barter only." Kieran posted a second notice.

Twenty diesel generators sold out instantly. The owners who'd been too slow were beside themselves.

"Mr. Hancock, please. We can't go without a generator. Can you source another batch? We'll pay more."

"Homeowner 12, don't you already have a diesel generator?"

"That's a lie. I don't."

"We can all hear it. Those things are loud."

"One isn't enough! My central air, all my appliances, my..."

"Mr. Hancock, this isn't fair. The people who already have generators shouldn't be buying up the ones meant for people who have none."

Kieran stepped in again. "I'll send someone around to check. If you already have a generator, give your neighbors a chance first."

That shut the disgruntled owners up fast.

Nobody wanted to get on Kieran's bad side and risk not getting a generator at all.

Besides, the man seemed to have connections to everything. Whatever was scarce, he could get. They might need him again.

...

Mariella checked the cash she'd withdrawn from the bank. Roughly 3,000,000 dollars left.

She brought the cash out to pay the bodyguards. As usual, Matthew doubled as both accountant and paymaster.

Per the original employment contract, the bodyguards received their first month's salary. 300,000 dollars each.

Crisp, neatly stacked bills. 10,000 per bundle, 30 bundles per person.

This had been the kind of paycheck that made other bodyguards drool. Now, holding it, not one of them felt the excitement they would have had a few months ago.

The world had shifted.

Money was losing value. Fast.

Living inside the Celestine Ridge townhouse, they were comfortable. But they knew the outside world had already changed beyond recognition.

Former colleagues and friends had vanished in the storms and floods. The ones still alive were barely hanging on.

People were posting in group chats, offering 150 dollars for a single pack of instant noodles or a loaf of bread, and still getting no takers.

Meanwhile, this team of bodyguards had followed their boss's lead, stockpiled early, and were eating well, sleeping safely in a fortified townhouse with plenty of supplies.

Their quality of life already exceeded that of the vast majority of ordinary survivors.

Honestly, even if the boss stopped paying them, they'd still stay.

As long as she kept them fed.

Mariella was about to follow up with some morale-boosting remarks when the video doorbell at the iron gate buzzed.

It was the Hancocks' head housekeeper, Terrence Grisham, with two bodyguards, here to collect the diesel generators.

The 20 units Kieran had sold on Mariella's behalf were already gone. It was first come, first served.

Terrence directed his two guards to open a sturdy leather case. Inside, neatly arranged: 44 pounds of gold.

"Mr. Hancock told me to pay before taking the goods."