The moment Thomas activated the perks, nearly two hundred items materialized in his inventory: weapons, equipment, Apocalypse Coins, and more.  His inventory overflowed, spilling the excess onto the floor.


    “What the hell…?”  He quickly checked the Super Monopoly panel, rereading the perk descriptions.  Realization dawned.  This was Levy I in action, confiscating a random item from anyone entering his owned properties.


    He checked Garden Station’s virtual map.  The two tactical squads were in disarray.  Three soldiers now held only pistols, their primary weapons gone.  Among the items at Thomas’s feet was a familiar designated marksman rifle, previously carried by one of the squad leaders.


    He gaped, a string of expletives escaping his lips.  The sheer number of weapons – over seventy – and the additional items in his inventory suggested more than just the station’s occupants had been affected.  He checked his other properties.  The next moment, his eyes widened in disbelief.


    The other properties held small, well-equipped squads, but nothing out of the ordinary.  Then he saw the Trading Center.  He was stunned.  He knew that building intimately, having spent the previous night there, meticulously planning his moves.  He knew the refugees’ capabilities, their weapons, their tactics.


    But what he saw now was different.  Four snipers were positioned on the roof.  At the main entrance, a heavy machine gun was mounted behind sandbags and camouflage netting.  The massive weapon, fed by a 12.7mm belt, sent shivers down his spine.  “That’s practically an anti-aircraft gun!”  One hit from that, and even the best body armor wouldn’t save you.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    He scanned the rest of the building.  Numbness set in.  These weren’t refugees.  They were trained soldiers.


    Inside the Trading Center, the initial confusion over the vanishing items had subsided.  Someone had taken control.  And when Thomas saw who it was, he recoiled.  “What the…?”


    In a room on the twentieth floor, Mad Dog stared in disbelief.  The golden rooster replica he’d just crafted had vanished.  Then he heard the commotion outside.  Grabbing a shotgun, he stormed out.


    Two blasts silenced the crowd.  The Bayonet, who had been speaking into a radio, rushed over.  “Boss, we have a problem.  Everyone’s missing something – weapons, armor… even the heavy machine gun at the entrance is gone.  Just the sandbags and netting are left.”


    Mad Dog’s eyes widened.  “What?  Everyone?  Including a fifty-pound machine gun?”


    The Bayonet grimly nodded.  Mad Dog remembered the vanishing golden rooster.  He broke out in a cold sweat, chilled by the implications.


    Unaware of Mad Dog’s reaction, Thomas finished his survey and closed the map.  His calm demeanor masked a turbulent inner storm.  “How is this possible?  Mad Dog?  Then who did I blow up?  If he’s alive, what about the others?  Ghostface?  The Butcher?  Caban?”  The possibility was chilling.


    He was about to contact Ben when something caught his eye.  He slowly turned, staring in disbelief at the massive weapon behind him.


    [Browning M2 Heavy Machine Gun]


    Type: Heavy Machine Gun / Fixed Machine Gun


    Weight: 128 lbs (with tripod)


    Rate of Fire: 450-580 RPM


    Effective Range: 2000 yards


    Firing Mode: Fully Automatic


    Caliber: .50 BMG (12.7x99mm)


    Ammunition: 200-round M9 belt.


    ---


    He gasped.  Was this even possible?  Had the refugee manning the machine gun been considered part of the weapon itself, triggering the confiscation?


    He shook his head, a slow grin spreading across his face.  “Levy… very good, very powerful.  I… like it very much.”