Chapter 129 – After the Chaos

After the previous days of chaos, Los Angeles was beginning to wake up peacefully again, and for the first time in three days, Alexander woke up without an emergency phone ringing beside him.

He stared at the ceiling, and for several seconds, he simply lay there.

Something felt wrong as the room was way too quiet.

There was no ringing phone. No hurried footsteps outside his bedroom. No voices coming from the hallway. No one knocking on his door to tell him that another shelter needed supplies or that another building had caught fire.

Alexander frowned for a moment, but then the memories came rushing back.

The verdict. The fires. The shelters. The phone calls. The reports. The screaming over the radio and television. People trapped in buildings. People injured in the streets. Hospitals running short on supplies. The endless stream of problems that seemed to appear faster than anyone could solve them. And then silence.

Alexander slowly closed his eyes as he remembered that the riots were over, and he let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

For the first time since everything had started, there was nothing he immediately needed to do, and his body apparently took that as permission to collapse.

Despite everything that had changed about him since receiving the YGO System, despite the fact that his body was considerably stronger and more resilient than that of an ordinary sixteen-year-old, exhaustion still had limits and he had apparently found them.

Alexander barely made it through breakfast before returning to bed.

Roland didn't argue; in fact, Roland seemed to have anticipated this as he said, "Sleep, Master Alexander."

"I've slept enough."

"You have not."

"I'm fine."

Roland gave him the sort of look that usually meant Alexander had already lost the argument.

Alexander sighed in acceptance and requested, "Wake me if something happens."

"Of course."

Luckily, nothing happened; at least, nothing that required Alexander, so he slept.

When he woke several hours later, he ate something, drank some water, and went straight back to sleep.

At some point, he vaguely remembered Roland checking on him. Another time, he remembered someone quietly closing the bedroom door. However, Alexander didn't bother asking who, as he was simply too tired to care.

By the time he woke again, the exhaustion had finally loosened its grip. He still felt tired, but he no longer felt like he had been hit by Truck-kun.

Alexander sat up and rubbed his face.

The first thing he noticed was that his thoughts were clearer, and the second thing he noticed was that Roland was sitting nearby with a newspaper.

Alexander stared at him for a moment before saying, "Good morning... How bad is it?"

Roland lowered the newspaper and asked, "The preliminary numbers?"

Alexander nodded.

Roland hesitated for just a moment before answering, "The damage remains extensive."

That was Roland's polite way of saying things were still terrible, so Alexander asked, "How extensive?"

"Buildings have been destroyed or heavily damaged. Numerous businesses were looted or burned. Vehicles were abandoned or damaged. Hundreds of people have been injured."

Alexander remained silent.

"Ten confirmed deaths so far."

His stomach tightened while thinking, '10... It's not that big of a number, yet it is still 10 too many for my liking...'

"There are also thousands of people who have been displaced temporarily. The economic damage across the city is already estimated in the hundreds of millions."

Alexander looked down.

The number was enormous, but then again he remembered what the historical records had said, and the numbers he remembered were much worse, not by some miraculous margin, as this wasn't a situation where he had somehow prevented the riots entirely.

Los Angeles had still suffered. People had still been hurt. People had still died. Businesses had still burned. Families had still lost homes.

Yet he still asked, "How does it compare...?"

Roland knew exactly what he meant, so he replied, "Substantially lower than the historical figures you described."

Alexander remained quiet, so Roland continued, "The early preparations appear to have made a significant difference."

He began listing the reasons.

Emergency supplies had reached shelters sooner. Buildings had already been evacuated in some areas. Hospitals had supplies before shortages became critical. Security personnel had been positioned around vulnerable locations. Transportation had been redirected before roads became completely impassable. Some fires had been contained before they could spread. Ambulances had reached people who otherwise might have waited much longer. And some people had simply been moved out of dangerous areas before the violence reached them.

Alexander listened.

Each example was small, almost insignificant by itself.

One ambulance arriving earlier. One family reaching a shelter. One building being evacuated. One fire being stopped. One hospital receiving supplies. But when thousands of those small decisions were combined, the difference became significant.

And then there was the one thing Alexander wasn't sure how to quantify: his summoning of Sky Scout.

Those 5 minutes in that single intervention, where people who might have killed each other instead lay unconscious until the violence subsided.

Alexander leaned back against the headboard.

He didn't feel victorious, as there wasn't anything to celebrate.

Too many people had died. Too many had been injured. Too many had lost everything. But he did feel something: relief.

In the end, he closed his eyes and muttered, "Good."

Roland looked at him.

Alexander opened his eyes again and declared, "At least we did something."

"We did considerably more than 'something,' Master Alexander."

Alexander didn't argue and simply nodded.

There wasn't much else to say.

~~~▽~~~

By the time Alexander had showered and properly dressed, the mansion felt strangely empty.

The reason for that was that for three days, it had been packed with his friends, their families and the servants and their families, and naturally the security personnel.

Now, one by one, everyone had returned to their home.

Ginny and her family had already left while Alexander was sleeping. Chuck and his family had done the same. Julia and her parents had returned home as well.

The mansion had gone from an emergency shelter/command centre back into a normal home.

Alexander found himself standing in the hallway for a moment, staring at the empty spaces where people had been moving around the last few days. It was a bit strange as he had gotten used to seeing everyone there, and now it was quiet again.

Eventually, Alexander got into his car and made his way to see Ginny.

Their reunion wasn't dramatic. There was no grand speech or emotional declaration.

They simply looked at each other for a few seconds before Ginny stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

Alexander hugged her back, and they stayed like that for a while; then they kissed softly.

When they finally pulled apart, Ginny looked at him and said, "I was terrified."

Alexander nodded. "I know."

"Every time I heard about another fire or another confrontation..." She shook her head. "I kept thinking something bad might happen to us too."

Alexander looked away for a moment. "I was scared too."

Ginny stared at him. "You?"

"Yes, me."

She didn't look convinced.

Alexander sighed, "Being scared doesn't mean you're helpless."

Ginny remained quiet as he continued, "It just means you understand that something is dangerous. You still have to make decisions. And if you panic, you make bad ones."

Ginny smiled slightly and jokingly asked, "Since when did you become so wise?"

"Since approximately three days ago."

"That recently?"

"Very recent development."

She laughed, and for the first time in days, Alexander heard that sound without it being followed by an emergency.

Ginny eventually shook her head. "You should rest."

"I am resting."

"You've been asleep for almost a day."

"Exactly."

Ginny rolled her eyes while Alexander goofily smiled.

It was a stupid conversation, a completely normal conversation, and after everything that had happened, that was exactly what he needed.

Later that day, Alexander met Hugh at home.

His father looked almost as exhausted as Alexander felt, and that wasn't surprising, as Hugh had spent most of the last three days away from home making calls.

Executives. Government officials. Suppliers. Transportation companies. Security firms. Hospitals.

Anyone who could move something, provide something, open something, or influence someone else had probably received a call from Hugh and because of that, Roxxon's involvement had become enormous.

Transportation had been provided. Supplies had been redirected. Generators had been distributed. Warehouses had been opened. Security personnel had been reassigned. Communications assistance had been provided. And all of it had happened while the city was struggling to keep up with the crisis.

Hugh leaned back in his comfy armchair, and after letting out a tired sigh, he said, "I'll admit something. I never expected your warning to become this serious."

Alexander raised an eyebrow before he gave him a tired look. "Neither did I."

Hugh looked at him. "You are the one who told me that something like this could have happened..."

Alexander sighed and said, "I made an educated guess... That's different from actually experiencing the whole thing."

Hugh nodded, then he continued, "You know what else happened?"

"What?"

"People noticed."

Alexander frowned and asked, "Noticed what?"

"Roxxon and Industrial Illusions." Hugh gestured toward the television and added, "They noticed that we weren't sitting around waiting for the government to handle everything."

Alexander remained silent.

"We opened warehouses. Moved supplies. Protected employees. Helped shelters. Provided transportation. Security. Equipment."

Hugh leaned forward. "People noticed that."

Alexander understood where this was going. "And now they like us more."

Hugh smiled. "Some of them."

Alexander sighed, "I suppose that's good."

"You don't sound convinced."

"Because I know you."

Hugh laughed, "Fair."

Alexander looked at him and said, "You knew this would help the company's reputation."

"Of course I did." Hugh didn't even attempt to deny it before he added, "But that doesn't mean the help wasn't genuine."

Alexander remained quiet while Hugh continued, "Businesses can do good things and benefit from doing them."

Alexander considered that, "They aren't mutually exclusive."

"No." Hugh leaned back. "If helping people improves Roxxon's reputation, strengthens our relationships with communities, gives us more influence in the government, thus earning us more benefits, and encourages other companies to do the same thing when the next disaster happens, why exactly is that a bad thing?"

Alexander didn't have an immediate answer because Hugh was right.

It wasn't necessarily wrong to benefit from doing something good. If anything, encouraging companies to help people because helping people also happened to be good business could mean more people received help.

Alexander nodded slowly and said, "I suppose you're right."

Hugh smiled, "Don't sound so disappointed."

"I'm trying."

Later that evening, Alexander, Hugh, and Roland watched the television together.

The mayor was giving a special address to the city.

His tone was very different from the press conference immediately following the verdict.

There was no anger or outrage now; instead, the speech focused on mourning, recovery, and rebuilding.

He acknowledged the people who had died, the hundreds who had been injured, the families who had lost homes, the businesses that had been destroyed, but he also thanked the people who had helped.

Police officers. Firefighters. Paramedics. Doctors. Nurses. National Guard personnel. Community leaders. Religious organisations. Volunteers. Business owners. Ordinary citizens. Anyone who had helped another person during those terrible days.

Alexander watched silently.

Then the mayor mentioned Roxxon, and Alexander glanced toward Hugh, who had a smug smile on his still tired face.

The mayor specifically praised the company for mobilising resources before the crisis became completely unmanageable.

Then Industrial Illusions was mentioned as well, and Hugh slowly turned toward Alexander.

Alexander looked back, but neither said anything.

Roland, however, couldn't resist, "Well, congratulations."

Alexander looked at him as he added, "Now you can start your plans to rule the world."

Roland paused for a moment and said, "And the people will be on your side."

Alexander groaned, "Please... Don't..."

Hugh laughed while Roland smiled, and then all three men laughed together.

The television continued showing images of Los Angeles.

Burned buildings. Destroyed storefronts. People cleaning streets. Volunteers handing out food. Firefighters still working. Families standing outside damaged homes. Community organisations arranging relief efforts.

Alexander watched the images carefully.

The riots had demonstrated how quickly society could descend into chaos, but the aftermath demonstrated something else.

How quickly people could begin rebuilding.

People were already cleaning, already helping, already organising, already trying to put their lives back together.

Alexander had spent the last few years thinking about the future as something he could exploit.

Stock markets. Businesses. Technology. Dangerous events he could avoid. Opportunities he could take advantage of.

But the riots had shown him something he hadn't really considered before: that knowing the future didn't only mean knowing what would happen, but it could mean knowing when people would need help, and maybe that responsibility mattered more than he initially thought.

~~~▽~~~

The immediate crisis might have ended, but the aftermath didn't.

Businesses began assessing their losses. Insurance companies began processing claims. Hospitals continued treating injured civilians. Temporary shelters remained open for people who couldn't return home. Community organisations began collecting donations. Cleanup operations spread throughout the affected neighbourhoods.

Roxxon and Industrial Illusions began discussing longer-term relief efforts.

Alexander made his position clear. Industrial Illusions wasn't going to issue a press release and disappear.

Employees who had lost homes or businesses would receive assistance. Supplies would continue going to affected communities. The company would support rebuilding efforts. The people who had needed help during the crisis still needed help now.

Hugh agreed.

The cameras might eventually leave, but that didn't mean the responsibility ended.

Alexander understood that, but he also understood something else.

Their preparations had reduced the scale of the disaster, but they hadn't erased it.

There were still grieving families, still destroyed businesses, still people whose lives would never return to what they had been before April 29.

Alexander couldn't fix all of that, and he didn't try to convince himself that he could.

That evening, Alexander stood outside on the highest balcony of the mansion.

Los Angeles was still damaged, and smoke continued to hang over parts of the city while sirens could occasionally be heard in the distance, but there were other sounds now.

Cars moving through the streets. People talking. Children playing. Someone laughing.

Normal life.

Roland eventually joined him and asked, "Feeling better?"

"A little."

Roland looked toward the city. "You saved a lot of people."

Alexander shook his head. "Not me."

Roland looked at him while Alexander thought about the firefighters, the doctors, the volunteers. The people who had opened their homes. The people who had driven supplies through dangerous streets, the police officers, the National Guard, his employees, his father, his friends and their families, Blade, Hannibal, and all the ordinary people who had simply refused to abandon their neighbours.

Then he said, "All of us."

Roland smiled while Alexander looked back toward Los Angeles.

After a few seconds, Alexander turned around. "Come on."

Roland raised an eyebrow and asked, "Where?"

"I've slept enough."

Roland stared at him. "You're going back to work?"

Alexander smiled, "No."

He paused for a moment before he said, "I want to have breakfast. I'm famished..."

Roland looked toward the darkening sky and corrected him, "I think it's actually time for dinner."

Alexander stopped, then he chuckled.

After three days of hell, he finally allowed himself to enjoy something as simple as a meal.