Dmitri, Rex, and Adrian stood in front of Hans inside what he had recently started calling the Commander's Office, mostly because repeating "my room" to everyone was beginning to sound ridiculous.
Three gold bars sat on the desk between them, and Hans had been trying not to stare at the damn things since the Scouts placed them there.
A bird-like logo was stamped across the top of each bar, followed by the words "1 KILO" and "FINE GOLD" along with several markings he did not recognize.
"This is...?"
"Commander, we found several interesting things inside the manager's office," Adrian said. "These are part of them."
"Interesting things?" Hans finally looked away from the gold. "Tell me."
Dmitri and Adrian placed several folders beside the bars. There were contracts, agreements, employee records, resident information, and enough paperwork to make Hans wonder how the manager found time to annoy everyone personally.
Some of the documents even contained information about Hans.
Thank goodness the apocalypse—what am I even thinking?!
"This manager was suspicious as hell," Hans muttered as he continued reading. "Weapons, an underground bunker, stored food... If all of this was just preparation for ordinary trouble, fine. But if he knew something was coming..."
He stopped there. The idea was already running too far ahead of the evidence.
Dmitri had also suggested relocating into the underground section, but Hans shook his head when the subject came up again.
"I understand why you like it. Underground, easier to defend, lots of storage. But we're not moving in yet. We haven't even checked the whole place, and I don't plan to stay in this apartment complex forever anyway. If it turns out safe, the survivors can use part of it later."
"We will follow the Commander's arrangements," Dmitri said.
Hans picked up one gold bar and felt its weight settle into his palm. "System, how much is this worth? Don't convert it yet."
------
[ One-kilogram refined gold bar detected. ]
[ Conversion Value: 1,000 Gold. ]
------
Hans stared at the bar.
One thousand.
Then he looked at the other two.
Three thousand Gold?!
"Convert all three."
The bars dissolved into golden particles before disappearing from the desk.
------
[ Automatic Gold Conversion complete. ]
[ Gold: 150 (+3,000) => 3,150 ]
------
Hans wasted very little time enjoying the number.
"System, train six Army Soldiers and one Attack Dog."
------
[ Army Soldier x6 queued. ]
[ Cost: 2,400 Gold | Training Time: 2 minutes each ]
[ Attack Dog queued. ]
[ Cost: 600 Gold | Training Time: 3 minutes ]
[ Gold: 3,150 (-3,000) => 150 ]
------
Fifteen minutes for seven more units. Hans leaned back and exhaled through his nose.
Thirty Conscripts, sixteen Army Soldiers, two Scouts, and soon two Attack Dogs. The Army Soldier and dog requirements for his next rank were already covered, but he still needed one more Scout and enough total infantry to reach roughly five squads.
Getting there was starting to look less impossible.
"You two did good work," Hans said. "I'll figure out some kind of reward later. What else did you bring?"
Dmitri handed him a blueprint recovered from the office. Hans unrolled it across the desk and stared at the passages, rooms, and several extensions he could not make much sense of.
"This feels incomplete."
"It covers the sections we reached," Dmitri said. "The underground area continues farther than what we explored."
"Yeah, I can see that much. Understanding what half these markings mean is another problem."
He rolled it back up and set it beside the folders.
Adrian slid a small brown notebook toward him. "The manager's diary. We thought you should read it first since you actually knew the man."
Hans opened it.
"I, Gordon Malrick, has never been a good person in my life..."
At least you understood yourself, you piece of shit.
The first pages were mostly self-pity and excuses, so Hans skipped ahead until the colored bookmarks started producing something useful.
"August 16, 2010. The construction of the bunker has started. The guy said it would take a few months without the goddamn noise. I had no choice, he said, so I gave him more money, and the fool changed his mind into one month, no more."
Hans paused. "The apartment complex opened around November that year..."
He kept reading.
"February 20, 2011. The underground base has been completed. I feel safer now with this. Poor residents, most of them don't know about it. Might as well squeeze a bit more to enlarge this space. Their money could prove well to improve my security, hehehe."
"June 16, 2011. Some idiot guard slipped and was caught by a resident sneaking in the middle of the night. Had to kill that poor bastard. I still remember how his parents begged for me to take him in. Tsk!"
Hans's face tightened, but he continued.
"August 1x, 2011. Had to spend some gold bars for those weapons. That dealer better give me something good!"
"December 4, 2011. Something good at the auction came by today, but I didn't have enough money and that bitch stole it from me! If I ever see her again, I will tear her apart, limb to limb! The weapons arrived, but it's not enough!"
"January 2, 2012. New year has passed, and the upper circle is mumbling about a great change in Aurelia. The Crescent Federation is up to something lately, wars and conspiracies. Grefort's underground is boiling with something too. What a messy world this is. Good thing I have my bunker ready."
"January 20, 2012. I got some body pill from the auction, said that it would make me healthier and better. Damn it, my diabetes is at its worst stage. That pill better have worked! My body feels strange lately."
The pages after that were blank.
Hans tapped the diary against the desk. "Bunker. Weapons. Some body pill. 'Great change'..." A ridiculous possibility tried forming in his head, but there still wasn't enough here to make it anything more than a possibility.
He pulled over one of the contracts instead.
"Jaggos Arms Shop."
Even Hans knew the name. The company had been accused of selling to rebels, rival countries, private groups, and probably anyone else with enough money. The accusations had become so common that people barely reacted to them anymore.
What bothered him was the scale of the manager's order.
High-caliber rifles, pistols, ammunition, and other equipment were not normal purchases for somebody running an apartment complex.
"Keep all of this together," Hans said. "I'm not finishing an entire criminal archive today."
Dmitri handed over the final report, this one covering the diner survivors: names, ages, professions, injuries, and what they had told the soldiers outside.
"They approached because their supplies were almost gone," Dmitri said.
Adrian leaned against the wall. "Then they should work once they're fed. If we make this look like free charity, we'll regret it."
"I know." Hans picked up the survivor report. "Gather the five people who were speaking for them. Bring Evan too. I need to figure out what we're actually doing with everyone."