Apocalyptic Rebirth: With a repairman system space, she rises again.-Chapter 552: No mercy.

There were some muffled cries and soft pleas.

Peter Strauss stood in the center of the room, looking remarkably crisp in a blood stained vest that he had worn for two days. He was a man possessed by a singular, gnawing question: Why?

Ever since the soldiers had intercepted a group of wanderers whispering Moon’s name near the perimeter, Peter hadn’t known a moment of peace. He was a man who thrived on control, and not knowing was a disease he couldn’t cure with medicine.

He had interrogated every wanderer, beggar, and low-life marauder caught near his walls, but his methods and those of Cassius’ right hand, Tigan_ were perhaps too ineffective. The suspects kept dying before they could provide the answers.

Cassius had suggested it was simply because Moon had told the entire world that she was a prophetess. "Everyone wants her in their corner, father. Except me of course." Cassius had said with that vacant, irritating smile. "People want to know the future. It is the most useful ability in the apocalypse, although in Moon’s case, she has not been of much use."

But Peter’s gut told him Cassius was thinking like a child. Why would low level people be looking for Moon? People without the means had no need to know the future! And besides, there were too many of them. Desperate people that were trying to survive had no need for Moon because she was neither food nor water. No, there was more to it.

To stop the rumor from spreading, Peter had acted with his usual surgical ruthlessness. He’d executed the guards who first heard the rumors so the information wouldn’t leak. Then, he had put Crosstown in lock down mode. No admitting new survivors and those inside, no going out without his approval.

Then, he’d locked Moon inside the house, turning her presence into a well kept secret. And then, he had rounded up her allies_ the group she had arrived with. If anyone knew the truth, it was the people who had walked the wastes with her.

For one month, he had been a butcher. He had taken their fingers, their toes, and their dignity. He had killed half of them, yet the survivors clung to their silence like it was their last scrap of food. He could not decide if they were stupid or simply loyal.

"I’m exhausted," Peter muttered, more to himself than anyone else. He hadn’t slept more than three hours a night in weeks. His eyes were bloodshot, his temper frayed like a tethered rope.

He looked over at the remaining survivors huddled in the corner. Among them was Charmaine, Moon’s errand boy, and his son, Emmet.

"Bring me the child," Peter ordered, his voice flat.

A woman in the group shrieked_ Emmet’s aunt. She lunged forward, clawing at the air. "No! Please! He’s just a boy! Mr. Strauss, have mercy!"

Peter didn’t even look at her. "Mercy is a luxury that I do not have just give me what I want and I will stop." He gestured at a guard. "Bring me the boy."

One of the guards dragged Emmet by the arms. The basement filled with the raw, jagged sound of his aunt’s scream_ a sound so primal it should have shaken the foundations of the building.

Peter didn’t flinch. "Tell me what I want to know, and the boy will be safe," Peter said to Charmaine.

Charmaine spat a glob of blood onto Peter’s polished boots. "We have already told you everything that we know, Strauss. I warned Moon not to trust anyone in this apocalypse but she did not listen. Now look, where we were. I curse the day our paths crossed with that woman."

Peter let out a soft, dry laugh. "I truly do love a hero. They make the victory feel earned. You know why I don’t believe you Charmaine? It’s because you are her errand boy. She has been sending the lot of you some supplies and you have been spying for her. Even if she did not tell you everything, I am sure she told you something." He gestured to a heavy, metal chair bolted to the floor in the center of the room. "Sit him on the chair."

The room went deathly silent. Even the aunt’s screaming stopped, replaced by a low, rhythmic whimpering. The chair had become legendary. No one ever sat in it and walked out alive.

"No!" Emmet screamed, his small voice cracking. "Dad! No! Help me."

"Shut the boy up," Peter snapped, rubbing his temples. The noise was giving him a migraine.

Without a word, a guard stepped forward. In one swift, brutal motion, he drove a combat knife through Emmet’s chest. The boy’s eyes went wide, reflecting the flickering light bulb above. He didn’t even have time to gasp before the life left him.

Peter cursed. "I told you to shut him up, not kill him! Now he is useless."

Charmaine didn’t scream. He didn’t move. He simply stared at his son’s body, which had been tossed aside like a sack of grain into a growing pool of blood. The grief was so massive it had turned him into a statue. He looked at Peter, but his eyes were empty_ the lights were on, but the man was gone. He wouldn’t answer another question if Peter burned the skin off his bones.

Emmet’s aunt screamed and hurled.

An old man lost control of his bladder. No child had been harmed so far. The survivors were now coming to learn that there was no mercy in this place. And, after all the things Peter had done there, none of them would be walking out alive. It was the only way for him to keep his secret.

Peter kicked the chair in frustration. "Useless. All of you are useless! Must I figure out everything on my own? We don’t have leverage over Charmaine anymore. Do you morons realize this?"

The heavy steel door of the basement creaked open. Tigan walked in, his face unusually pale. He didn’t look at the bodies; he was too focused on a crumpled piece of paper in his hand.

"Mr. Strauss," Tigan whispered. "A word."

Peter stepped into the corner, his shadows looming large on the wall. Tigan handed him a flyer.

"This was found on one of the people our raiders killed yesterday in Oregon town," Tigan said. "Its about Moon, I think it explains why so many people are looking for her. Look at the bounty."

Peter smoothed out the paper. His eyes widened. There it was, clear as day: a bounty on Moon Raine. Along with her name was her picture and the destination where to deliver her. Fortress four.