Apocalyptic Rebirth: With a repairman system space, she rises again.-Chapter 526: You have your rich, as do we.

Vicente leaned out of his jeep truck window, the falling loose white strands of his hair contrasting sharply against the dark leather of the interior. He tapped fingers that held a cigarette between against the door with a rhythmic, impatient clack-clack-clack.

"None of the above, boys," he called out to the guards who were nervously approaching. "Let me see what this is about." he spoke mostly to himself.

He stepped out of the car, flicking his cigarette.

The guards, who usually played the role of stone-faced sentries, practically tripped over their own feet to get out of his way. They watched him with a mixture of reverence and pure, unadulterated terror as he strolled toward the lead vehicle.

Behind them, the leader of the guards frantically pulled out a radio, his voice a hushed, panicked blur as he reported that Vicente was in the grove and he was not alone.

Sunshine rolled down her window as Vicente leaned his forearm against the frame. He looked down at her; his eyes narrowed against the sun.

"You sure about this, Mrs. Quinn?" he asked, his voice low and lacking its usual theatrical flair. "Or perhaps the heat is getting to the brain of your driver and we’re just lost? These people..." He gestured toward the sprawling surviving villas behind the gate. "They pay a very high premium for a certain level of ’quiet.’ They buy their peace with heavy bags of shiny currency, cash and supplies so they never have to see any problems. Antagonizing them is bad for business."

Sunshine saw the hesitation. It wasn’t that Vicente was afraid of the residents; he was afraid of losing his best taxpayers. Their supplies helped the town to thrive, even if most people were scrimping to get by. They had the largest freshwater reserves and every once in a while, they trickled some of it to the less fortunate.

Vicente had made certain promises to them, and he was not too eager to break them.

Sunshine understood him. He had his rich and she had hers. No doubt, the difference between the two groups was not very big. But she was there on a mission. If he chickened out now, his men behind them would follow suit, and that would leave her with no choice other than fight her way in, something that she did not want.

Before the children were found, she did not plan to take the town forcefully. She did not want to risk another incident like Fifi’s where someone escaped with trafficked children who would end up dead or worse.

She let out a sharp tsk, shaking her head slowly. "We aren’t lost, Vicente. We are exactly where we need to be."

"Is that so?" Vicente muttered, his gaze drifting to the guard captain who was still whispering into his phone.

Sunshine leaned closer to the window. "Okay tell me something. Does a Mrs. Krotchner live in there? The one who owns that fancy restaurant which is still standing? We did not get the name."

Vicente froze. He reached up and scratched the back of his head, letting out a long, jagged curse. "Mrs. Krotchner? Yeah, she lives here. Big house. Lots of marble. She’s one of my biggest contributors. Her restaurant is popular; the barbecue is to die for. Her family owned one of the largest ranches in the country and they killed as many as they could when rumors of the apocalypse started circulating. The meat was put on ice and preserved in different ways in a place she won’t reveal." He paused, his eyes searching Sunshine’s face. "You think she has some of these kids?"

Sunshine didn’t answer immediately. She shifted her gaze to Oliver, who was sitting in the back of the van, his face pale but his eyes steady. He gave her a single, sharp nod. Sunshine looked back at Vicente, her expression hardening into something cold and undeniable.

"I don’t just think it, Vicente. I know it."

The doubt in Vicente’s eyes vanished, replaced by a dark, simmering fire. He realized then that if he let this slide, he would have lost his humanity completely and Victoria would rip his balls off.

Besides, he was not ready to fight Fortress four just yet. It was better to sacrifice one donor than the rest of his town. "Alright then," Vicente growled. He turned around and slammed his palm against the hood of Sunshine’s car with a sound like a gunshot. "Let us head inside!"

He spun toward the guards, his voice booming with the authority of a god. "Open the gate now. If I have to open it myself, you all will find new occupations in the afterlife. And you won’t get there peacefully or quickly."

The leader of the guards nearly dropped his phone. He hung up mid-sentence, his face a ghostly shade of white, and frantically signaled the control room. The massive iron gates began to groan open, retreating like a defeated army.

"Let’s move!" Vicente shouted, hopping back into his truck.

The convoy roared to life. This time, there was no hesitation. Vicente took the lead, his engine screaming as he sped down the stoned road of Hilly Grove.

Sunshine’s team followed close behind, their tactical gear a stark contrast to the flowery gardens they passed. Flowers that had everyone wondering how they were surviving. It was either they had a superhuman capable of growing and maintaining them or they had unique serums and flower seeds.

"This place is beautiful, and so are the women." Trey muttered from the back, saluting the people that they passed by.

"Focus, Trey," Nala warned, though she couldn’t help but admire the place. "We have better gardens back at home and more beautiful women."

Trey chuckled.

The vehicles sped past sprawling estates with swimming pools and a solar panel farm which provided power in the grove. It was a gilded cage, a place where people pretended the world hadn’t ended, just like at fortress four- people had somehow rebuilt their lives.

As the restaurant_ a grand, white-pillared building_ came into view at the end of the street, Vicente didn’t slow down. He accelerated.

"That maniac is going to ram the front door, isn’t he?" Nimo asked, gripping his seat.

"I would not be surprised," Sunshine said, bracing herself as they turned the final corner.

Vicente’s car didn’t just stop; it slammed to a halt, kicking up a cloud of the fancy gravel. The heavy front bumper stopped just an inch away from the polished wooden doors of the restaurant. It was a clear threat_ a way of showing that he could have crashed through the building if he wanted to.