Apocalyptic Rebirth: With a repairman system space, she rises again.-Chapter 474: Watchers in the market.

Joy was a superhuman, the most unique one they had ever seen. Other abilities could be explained...hers...they neither fell here or there and nobody in Kingsbridge could explain them.

She had a pair of black wings that could cut steel and conjure a dust or rainstorm. Normally, she followed Emily like an ordinary maid, handing her water or brushing dust from Emily’s clothes. Joy was the kind of woman that most looked at and dismissed as irrelevant.

"Joy!" Captain Hanks arched a brow. "You are sending her out on recon? Isn’t that dangerous? A secret weapon is only secret if your enemy does not know about it?"

Emily shook her head. "Nobody blends in better than Joy. The sky is already littered with birds the size of planes. Unless someone with supervision is keeping an eye above, a tiny human with wings will not be noticed."

Joy entered the room silently, keeping her head down as if she was too afraid to look at the occupants.

Emily handed her the flyer. "Go, fly above their market. Watch. Listen. Bring me word about who attends and what they buy. Especially those that dare to go from my town. Do not be seen."

Joy bowed, "As you command, Lord Emily."

Emily dismissed everyone. As they departed, she remained seated, staring at the flyer. The billionaires had sent it out seeking trade and allies. They did not know that they had attracted an enemy.

One they would regret making.

Her mind drifted back to the night of her father’s funeral. All the members of the billionaire’s club had gathered in their fancy club, chandeliers glowing, wine flowing. Sheldon had given a eulogy on her father.

People had smiled, offered him condolences like he was a Stafford. And then someone said the joy of their fall was that another family could rise and fill the gap.

The Quinn family.

Emily hated them too, even though they never became members of the billionaire’s club. To her, they were just as guilty as the rest nevertheless.

She traced a finger over the Quinn group logo on the flyer. First, she would deal with the billionaires and then the Quinn’s.

She would replace their glory with Stafford glory.

****

The makeshift market outside Westbrook wall stretched further than they had anticipated. Traders had come from within the fortress and beyond. People from Ferry Island had crossed a broken bridge, balancing on beams and rubble. Others had trudged through the wreckage to reach the place. Their faces were weary, but their eyes gleamed with hunger for opportunity.

Wealthy survivors, skilled traders, and cautious buyers moved among the stalls. Goods were laid out on tables or piled inside carts.

Canned foods dried and fresh grains, medical supplies, luxury spoils that had been found in abandoned homes like precious violins, aged wine, century old paintings and the like.

Security was suffocating. Drones hovered overhead, their red eyes scanning every movement. Soldiers patrolled every inch of the grounds, dragonoids and rifles ready. Among them were superhumans in uniform--figures that kept the ordinary humans in awe and fear. Their presence was a silent warning: trade freely, but do not test the rules and our patience.

The air buzzed with tension. Cash, gems and barter were exchanged with trembling hands. Some from excitement; others from pain of parting what was precious to them.

Everything was going on well until it wasn’t, until a sharp crack of sound cut through the low hum of voices that were chewing and bargaining. Heads turned just in time to see a crypto-kinetic and a porcupine-haired superhuman grappling over a single, very ordinary bag of cereal.

The crypto-kinetic snarled, "I saw it first!"

The porcupine-haired man bristled literally and figuratively, quills rattling as he barked back, "Your eyes are defected, get off it."

The bag stretched between them like a bad joke, people stumbling backward as invisible force pulses flickered around the cryokinetics’s hands, cups and tins rattling as if the air itself was nervous.

A woman yelled, "Hey! Take your fight elsewhere!" while dragging her child away.

A trader diving behind a crate shouted, "I just set up my stall and now it is damaged."

The porcupine-haired superhuman lunged, spikes flaring outward with an angry hiss as he slammed his shoulder forward.

The cryokinetic staggered but laughed breathlessly, "You think spikes scare me?" and then hurled ice shards at him that also injured three other people who hadn’t moved away fast enough.

One man landed on his backside and yelled, "Stupid ass super humans!"

The squads rushed forward shouting, "Stand down!"

"Separate now!" Corporal Craydon shouted and fired a warning shot in the air.

But the fighters were too locked in, both hands still clamped on the cereal bag, veins bulging, faces red, hunger and pride mixing into something ugly. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

The porcupine-haired man growled, "Let go!"

The cryokinetic shouted, "I need this! My children are starving!"

And for one ridiculous, tragic moment the bag gave up, fabric tearing with a loud rip, the sound strangely loud in the sudden silence, and then grain burst into the air, rice exploded upward before raining down onto helmets, hair and open mouths.

Someone coughed, "What a waste!"

A child laughed hysterically, "It’s snowing food!"

While the two super humans froze, staring at the empty sack in their hands, horror dawning at the same time as shame.

The cryokinetic whispered, "What have you done?"

The porcupine-haired man croaked, "Me! do you mean you?"

Innocent people scrambled away from the falling grain, a child reached out instinctively and began to collect the rice.

"Pick as much as you can my child," Her mother urged, bending to do the same

Sunshine’s voice rang out sharp and furious over the comms, "If you all cannot be disciplined, the market will be closed. I told you all there is no need to fight, we have enough for trade. What we don’t have is petty energy for ridiculous fights. One more fight and everyone goes home."

But before anyone could process her words, another shadow fell over the scene, the temperature dropped just slightly as reality seemed to tighten.

And with a collective gasp the two super humans were lifted clean off the ground, legs kicking, each caught mid-air by a watcher.

One of them squealed, "Help! Please!"

The other yelled, "Do not allow it to take me!"

The crowd went dead quiet, no one dared to say a word. Many crouched down and others lay on their stomachs while others took cover, fear snapping through them faster than hunger ever had.

A soldier pointed his gun at one of watchers," Sir do I shoot? What do I do?"

"Are you insane? You could kill him instead." Major Grayson told him.

The watchers flew away, holding the fighting super humans like misbehaving dolls.

More watchers arrived, watching the people below like prey in an open field. They hovered, instilling fear among the whimpering humans, they scouted the area as in search of whom to take away next.

And then they backed away suddenly.

After they left, some people sighed in relief, others hugged. Others, especially the super humans from fortress four worried even more about the watchers carrying them off. How were they supposed to go out there and hunt or protect the market under such risk?

How would they hunt? If they did not hunt, then they would not be making money.

Insecurity and fear filled the air. Some people wrapped up their stalls.

As if she could read their minds, Sunshine stepped forward, her voice cold but controlled. "All residents, all trips outside the bubble are suspended until further notice."

"And what about us?" A non-resident asked.