NOVEL FROG Chapter 69: The Price of Resistance
As Atlas finished collecting the coins from those who had complied without much fuss, he noticed a small group huddling together, whispering in hushed tones. Their eyes darted between each other and Atlas, their hands gripping their coins tightly as if they could hold onto their last bit of power in this strange new world.
One man, a burly construction worker with a scruffy beard and a heavy-set frame, stepped forward as the apparent leader of this little rebellion. He clenched his fists, his muscles bulging beneath his flannel shirt. “Why should we give you our coins?” he demanded, his voice rough and defiant. “You’re just another guy who got dragged into this mess like the rest of us. What makes you the boss?”
Atlas sighed, wiping a bit of blood from his brow. He hadn’t expected to deal with this so soon, but it was inevitable. There’s always someone who thinks they can challenge the status quo, even when the odds are clearly not in their favor. Although he was in a massive hurry to achieve his first self-appointed mission, this was something he had to deal with.
“You’re right,” Atlas said, his tone measured and calm, “we’re all in this mess together. But here’s the thing—I’ve been through this before. I know what’s coming. And trust me, you’re going to need someone who knows what they’re doing if you want to survive.”
The man narrowed his eyes. “So you say. But how do we know you’re not just making that up to take control? For all we know, those coins could be the only thing keeping us alive, and you’re just trying to hoard them for yourself.”
Atlas let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You really think I’m doing this for fun? That I’d drag my team into a deathtrap just to rob a bunch of strangers? Let me put it this way—if I wanted to take you out and steal your coins, I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you.”
He nodded to his team, who immediately raised their crossbows, aiming them squarely at the dissenters. Atlas himself casually slung the rifle over his shoulder and cocked the shotgun with a swift motion, the sound echoing in the tense silence. The message was clear: he wasn’t asking. ‘The gun might not work,‘ thought Atlas, ‘but you people don’t know that. And there’s nothing more intimidating than hearing the familiar cocking of a shotgun while its barrel is pointing at you.‘
The group stiffened, their attention captured by the sound they’ve heard a million times on TV and in movies. The atmosphere was thick with the tension of what might happen next. A few of them glanced nervously at each other, the reality of the situation finally starting to sink in. ‘This isn’t a game,‘ one woman thought, her heart pounding in her chest. ‘He’s serious. This is life or death.‘
But the burly man wasn’t ready to back down just yet. “You think pointing a gun at us will scare us into submission?” he growled. “I’ve faced worse in the real world. I ain’t afraid of you.”
Atlas tilted his head slightly, a small, almost pitying smile on his lips. “I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he said, his voice softening, “but I will if I have to. You’re not just endangering yourself by holding onto those coins—you’re putting everyone here at risk. We need those coins to survive, and if you can’t see that, then you’re going to get a lot of people killed.”
The man hesitated, his grip on the coins tightening. He knew he was outmatched, but his pride wouldn’t let him back down so easily. ‘I can’t be a punk ass bitch right now,‘ he thought, his mind racing for a way out. ‘If I do, what does that say about me? About how people will see me?‘
Just then, Amber stepped forward, her expression hard as she addressed the group. “He’s telling the truth,” she said firmly. “If you think you’re tough enough to survive on your own out here, go ahead—keep your coins and see how far that gets you. But if you want to make it through this, you’ll hand them over and follow his lead.”
Her words seemed to have an effect. Some of the dissenters began to waver, doubt creeping into their defiance. But the burly man was still unconvinced. He glared at Amber, then back at Atlas. “You’re just as bad as he is,” he spat. “All of you, thinking you’re better than the rest of us.”
Atlas’s patience was wearing thin. He took a step forward, closing the distance between them until he was standing directly in front of the man, the barrel of his shotgun inches from the man’s chest. “Last chance,” he said quietly, his eyes locked on the man’s. “You can either give me the coins, or I’ll take them from you. It’s your call.”
The man stared back, his jaw clenched tight. For a moment, it seemed like he might actually go for the fight, but then something in Atlas’s gaze made him falter. There was no malice there, no anger—just a cold, unyielding determination. It was the look of someone who had been through hell and wasn’t about to let anyone drag him back down.
Finally, the man’s shoulders slumped, and he let out a defeated sigh. “Fine,” he muttered, shoving the coins into Atlas’s hand. “Take them. But don’t think this makes you the boss.”
Atlas took the coins, nodding once. “I don’t need to be your boss,” he said, slipping the coins into his pouch. “I just need to keep us all alive.”
As the rest of the group reluctantly handed over their coins, Atlas’s team kept a close watch, ready to intervene if anyone else decided to resist. But the initial confrontation had taken the fight out of most of them. They might not have liked it, but they knew better than to push their luck.
One by one, the coins were collected, and the atmosphere began to calm down. Atlas turned to his team, giving them a nod of approval. “Good work,” he said, then addressed the group at large. “We’ll move out soon. Stick close, stay quiet, and follow my lead. We’ll get through this together.”
As he walked away, the burly man muttered under his breath, “We’ll see about that.” But the fire in his eyes had dimmed, and he knew deep down that he had no choice but to go along with Atlas—for now.
‘Best way to convince everyone without killing somebody,‘ Atlas thought to himself. ‘The newbies were not bad people. Except Clark. I would happily kill Clark, but that would cause a panic right now.‘
The thought of Clark made Atlas’s skin crawl. The guy was always a problem, and the last thing he needed was Clark stirring up trouble among the newbies. He looked around, catching sight of the man in question—a sneaky grin plastered on his face as he mingled with the others. Atlas’s instincts screamed that Clark was up to no good, but he couldn’t act on it just yet.
‘Not until this panic has died down,‘ he thought, his hand tightening around the shotgun. ‘Not until the time is right.‘
Meanwhile, Clark was busy plotting his own schemes. ‘Taking over a group isn’t just about having a gun,‘ he mused, his eyes scanning the crowd. ‘It’s about influence, about making people doubt their current leader and believe in me instead.‘
He watched as Atlas moved through the group, his every move exuding confidence and authority. ‘But he’s got the upper hand right now,‘ Clark thought, his mind racing. ‘That gun, that attitude—it’s intimidating. But if I can get the others to see that he’s not invincible, that he can be challenged…‘
He smiled to himself, the plan slowly taking shape in his mind. ‘It’ll take time,‘ he thought, ‘but I’ll break them down, piece by piece.‘
“You heard him,” John said, stepping up beside Atlas. “We’re all in this together, and Atlas is the best chance we’ve got. You want to make it through this? Then you’d better listen to him.”
The rest of the Portal Crushers nodded in agreement, their expressions serious. The dissenters, including Clark, were left with little choice but to fall in line.
“Take control of the situation,” Atlas ordered the Portal Crushers, his voice calm but commanding. “Make sure everyone’s accounted for. And check their state—physically and mentally. We can’t afford to have any more surprises.”
The Portal Crushers quickly moved to follow Atlas’s orders, rounding up the group and checking on each person’s condition. As they did so, they were surprised to see Clark among them.
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