Apocalypse Rebirth: Making Billions With My Fortune-Telling Skill

Chapter 112: The Innocent Fabric

There was some industrial gear in the mix of goods April had taken into her supply but it was not enough. She felt it was far from enough.

​Samuel stepped forward smoothly, pulling out his digital tablet to log the data. "What specific classification of machinery are you prioritizing, Miss April?"

​"Gas cylinders, heavy-duty diesel generators, welding equipment, structural steel beams, and pressurized fuel storage units," she listed off without a single drop of hesitation. "The standard components required to maintain utility grids when the public networks fail."

​Samuel nodded efficiently, his fingers tapping the glass screen. "Right away, ma’am. I will initiate the wholesale buyouts across the southern port sector as soon as we are concluded with today’s primary itinerary." He said and she turned away, checking a few things on her system. "And by the way, Miss April, your online orders are officially flagged to arrive tomorrow morning. I will personally notify you the exact moment the delivery transport reaches the address you specified."

​"Ah, right. Samuel." April murmured, her eyes blinking slightly. "I almost forgot about that."

​"Online orders?" Nat chimed in, slouching over with a wicked, teasing glint in his eyes. "Does that mean that little outfit I picked out for you is getting delivered tomorrow, sweetheart?"

​April rolled her eyes toward him, her expression shifting into one of nonchalance. "Mr. Collins, I really believe you should start worrying about your own outfit before you worry about mine."

​Right as the final words left her lips, a sharp, loud RIP echoed through the quiet hangar.

​The thin fabric covering the massive span of Nat’s left shoulder blade finally surrendered to his muscular proportions, tearing open in a clean, jagged line that exposed a patch of tattooed skin.

​April’s lips twitched. She tightly clenched her jaw, forcing her deadpan mask to remain in place as she actively fought down the sudden, highly unprofessional urge to laugh out loud.

"That particular tear was entirely imminent, Mr. Collins. Now... will you finally show some pity to the poor, suffering fabric?"

​Nat let out a long, careless whistle, not looking bothered in the least. "Yeah, I guess I could do that," he chuckled.

​Without a single shred of hesitation or modesty, he grabbed the front zipper of the tracksuit top and aggressively pulled it down, shedding the tight jacket completely.

He tossed the ruined clothing onto a nearby empty rack, exposing his bare upper body to the cool warehouse air.

​April’s eyes instinctively tracking the movement, momentarily pausing on his torso.

He was incredibly ripped—his frame built out of thick, dense blocks of muscle hardened by a lifetime of dockyard violence.

There were dark tattoo lines drawn all over his skin, but her focus fell entirely on the coiled dragon tattoo that ran all the way up the side of his neck, its tail disappearing beneath his collarbone.

​"Come on, sweetheart," Nat grinned manically, stepping directly into her space as his chest heaved slightly. "Let’s make a quick stop at a boutique on the way to your next location. You can help me pick out something that fits."

​"Why don’t you simply go alone?" April asked, forcing her gaze back up to his shades, her voice dripping with dry detachment. "Since you allegedly possess such a flawless sense of personal style."

​Nat leaned down even further, his face coming so remarkably close to hers that she could smell the rich, dark aroma of danger.

His lips curled into a wild, sharp grin that made the lines along his jaw tighten. "Might I remind you, little seer... the only reason I was trapped in that tracksuit to begin with was because a certain someone decided to turn my thirty-thousand-dollar custom suit into a personal barf bag less than twelve hours ago."

​He pulled back slowly, throwing his hands up in a mocking gesture of innocence. "But of course, I’m completely to blame for lifting you off the table. Still... you’re not exactly without blame here, sweetheart."

​The direct reminder of her absolute drunken disgrace hit her like a bucket of ice water.

Her throat dried up instantly, and her lips locked into a tight, silent line. It was a historic failure that she wished to stay buried. I am never touching an alcoholic fluid again for the rest of my life, she reminded herself viciously.

​Desperate to change the operational topic, she turned her head toward the front of the hangar. "Samuel. What is the next thing on my schedule?"

​Samuel, who had been glaring at Nat’s bare torso with an expression of profound, corporate disgust, instantly cleared his throat and checked his tablet.

"You planned to conduct a comprehensive tour of the newly purchased hillside fortress, Miss April. Furthermore, the specialized construction teams are currently on-site, waiting to receive your specific layout details for the atmospheric dome."

​"Ah, that’s right," April stated, her tone instantly hardening into its proper, cold focus. The fortress dome needs to be fitted with an advanced holographic simulation grid. When the sky finally turns into a bleeding, open wound and the horizon goes up in flames, I do not want to look at it when I step outside my front door in the mornings. It’s a scene fit for night time, though.

​She began walking back toward the exit, her mind already mapping out the ideas on how to secure the boundaries of her mountain ridge.

​"I also need the engineering crews to initiate high-security details around the entire valley," April added firmly. "I want automated defensive grids and double-layered steel barricades. I need to be able to take a morning walk through my greenhouses, or jog around my private estate, without ever having to worry about meeting a stray zombie on the path." Or a survivor begging for help. "Did you get that down, Samuel?" She asked and turned to see Samuel had already written all of it in a notepad since he didn’t come with his tablet.

"Yes, Miss April," he said and Nat whistled at his level of efficiency. Even his boys weren’t that fast in taking orders.

"Alright, let’s get going. We’ll stop at the boutique after all." She said and Nat suddenly swung his massive arm over her shoulder.

"Now, that’s what I’m talking about."