Apocalyptic Rebirth: With a repairman system space, she rises again.-Chapter 475: Blending in.

Sunshine found the question slightly odd. "You go back to your homes or move to the factory and try not to attract the attention of the watchers. From now on, we will raise a temporary bubble to cover the open market area on market days."

"Why not every day?" The man questioned. "You obviously have the means, so why don’t you protect us all? Don’t you think that you are being selfish?"

Gregg placed himself between Sunshine and the man. He pointed to the path leading to the exit. "I suggest you start moving before you annoy more than a watcher today. Our president is not obligated to protect outsiders, and neither are we. Be grateful that she is providing aid and allowing this trade market to operate."

The man scowled, turned and walked off.

The teams responsible for bubble installation and maintenance got to work.

The squads moved back into position, relief distribution and trade resumed with a little less noise, a little more caution, the memory of floating bodies and wasted food hanging in the air heavier than hunger itself.

Sunshine left before the relief supplying exercise for non-residents was done. Day already waiting with the engine running like he knew she’d need to escape fast, and as the vehicle pulled away she leaned back against the seat and exhaled slowly, rubbing her temples.

Day glanced at her through the mirror and said lightly, "Ma’am, I worry that those things will take you one day."

She answered dryly, "Maybe I should let them, I need to show Pink that we are not as vulnerable to her kidnappings as she thinks."

Day smiled. "I am guessing that you have a plan?"

"You bet I do." Sunshine answered with confidence.

**

Joy’s wings carried her silently across the bright but slightly grey sky, her feathers catching sharp glimmers of the sun as she glided over ruins.

Her hope was to finish her mission unnoticed, to fly without drawing the attention of other birds or the watchers. She accomplished it with ease. Joy landed lightly on a high boulder that jutted out from the hill sized rubble of a collapsed sky scrapper at the edge of Ferry Island.

From, there, she had clear view of the market below. The stalls stretched wide, most were ordinary tents or wooden tables and carts. Banners fluttered next to some, especially the biggest tents.

Joy’s sharp eyes easily judged who the wealthy traders were from the logos or words on their banners. As for the crowd of buyers, it was a guessing game. Many were dusty from crossing rubble of Ferry Island to get to the market, so most people looked the same.

But there were differences. Some donned patched or old clothing, giving away their state of poverty. The wealthy buyers, despite appearing dusty were draped in finer fabrics. Their servants and guards were carrying baskets, cases and all their children.

Among them were some superhumans from Kingsbridge and the wealthy they protected. The contrast between the wealthy and poor was stark: tired desperation beside polished arrogance.

She scanned the area and crowd with the same patience she used in everything. Security was no joke. The drones, soldiers superhuman guards and guns like she had never seen before! It was all daunting. One particular man stood out the most to her. He was a priest that was standing on the wall in a white robe that was whiter than snow. The bronze rosary around his neck let off a glint each time the sun’s rays brushed over it.

His eyes had a sharp light that made Joy’s wings twitch uneasily.

But that did not deter her from her mission. Lord Emily had already described the billionaires to her, and she had marked them. Unfortunately, they were already escaping back into the wall around Westbrook town. But their stalls were still open for business.

One had crated of canned food, stacked like bricks of gold. Every type of canned food that had been manufactured before the apocalypse started.

Another had medical supplies: Syringes, cotton, antibiotics, bandages in small sterile packs. Pills, all kinds...including some that would have resulted in raids and arrests in the old world. It seemed to be guarded the most.

A third stall had luxury wines, scarves, bags, mattresses, pillows, cutlery, coffee and many other things that were all shiny and not cheap. Most were not necessities, just reminders of the world before it fell apart.

A fourth stall sold special clothing and items to help humans survive the heat which was expected to kick it up a notch the very next day. Given the way everyone was fanning themselves and stocking up on ice packs that were said to last as long a month, it was not shocking that the stall was overcrowded.

Most striking however was a stall selling weaponry. It was the Quinn group logo, the same logo on the flyers and the wall around Westbrook. An older couple draped in crimson bodysuits smiled at buyers that haggled over bullets like they were pearls.

And when it came to food, they had more than enough, clearly. There was no shortage of grains, fresh fruit, snacks, eggs, milk and meat.

Joy never thought she would see such a scene in the cracked world. Where had they got all these things from? She needed to take a closer look. She could not remain perched forever. She had to blend in, to hear the whispers. People were acting like they were too afraid to use their outside voice.

With a practiced motion, she leaped from her position, landing among the crowd at the back. It amazed her that everyone carried on as if she was nothing but air. She tucked her wings firmly beneath a long-tattered cloak and moved in like one of the outsiders.

Her face was pale, her steps weary, her eyes cautious. When she passed the first point of inspection and went through an air decontamination tent, she smiled smugly. The first test was over. From there, she walked to the aid tent. After receiving a bottle of water, which she downed quickly, she approached the first food stall. She lingered, pretending to examine a can of tomatoes.

The merchant that was selling eyed her suspiciously. Whether it was because she looked poor or dirty because of the dirt clinging to her coat, she did not know. She handed over a few dollar bills and walked away quickly.

She didn’t buy the overpriced tomatoes because she needed them. She did so because it lessened the suspicion of the merchant and the others around him. By buying something and holding a basket, she became part of the market. Invisible among the desperate.

At the medical stall, she overheard two wealthy buyers from Ferry Island talking.

"They say the houses inside the wall are impenetrable. And they never run out of power."

"Even their cell phones are working. They can make calls and send messages to each other as long as they are within Fortress territory. I envy them so much."

"Do you know that they have a weapons lab inside? One that has made weapons strong enough to kill the watchers. How long do you think until they take the whole city? I heard from an insider that they are still expanding so we will all soon be part of Fortress four. Sooner or later, war is coming. "

The other one gasped.

So did Joy.