The clearing was thick with tension, the air charged with the stink of fear and desperation. The self-appointed leader—some pathetic, trembling fool—stood in the center, his voice quivering as he tried to rally the sheep. "Listen, everyone... we need to be together in all this. We'll share the supplies equally so there's no fighting."
A few nodded like mindless drones, muttering, "Yeah, that's right." Others stayed silent, their eyes darting, their instincts screaming that something was wrong. But none of them dared to speak up. None of them had the spine.
I stepped forward, my boots crunching over broken debris, my voice cutting through the weakness like a blade. "Hey." My tone was ice, my smirk pure arrogance. "Forget about it."
The crowd froze.
"These supplies?" I gestured to the pile of scavenged food and tools, my voice dripping with ownership. "They're mine."
Silence.
Then—
"What the fuck, dude?!" A man shouted, his face reddening with fake outrage.
