Unfortunately, before the broadcast could end, the program was cut off.
The female anchor didn't finish her last shift; she was directly laid off.
The TV station's leader stormed into the studio in anger, loudly questioning what she intended to do. The acquisition deal worth billions of US Dollars could go down the drain because of a few words from this slut!
As for the reasons the anchorwoman mentioned, they weren't real reasons. Indeed, money might be useless in the apocalypse, as portrayed in various zombie movies.
But the apocalypse hasn't arrived yet, and money still holds great value. Currently, the board members of the TV station are all waiting for the acquisition funds to be credited so they can divide their inheritance.
With money, they can start stockpiling food and water, weapons, and ammunition, securing solid shelters to live longer than the lower classes!
This is the magic of money.
It lets the rich win at the starting line of the apocalypse. While the common people are chased and screaming by zombies, the wealthy might be hiding in a shelter popping champagne.
"Fuck you! I will expose your dirty deals online! You accomplices of demons!"
The anchorwoman gave the station leader the middle finger and left with her small cardboard box.
But when the station leader heard she would continue talking nonsense online, a barely noticeable cold glint flashed in his eyes. He returned to the office and immediately took out a prepaid phone from the desk, dialing a number.
......
The anchor didn't go home immediately because to continue this topic online, she needed other 'ingredients.'
So she drove to a supermarket, as expected, following Luthor's speech in Washington, perhaps people were skeptical about his words, but many chose to immediately go to supermarkets to stock up on supplies.
Nobody knows what form the apocalypse will take. Is it a biohazard depicted in movies? Or a comet colliding with Earth like Earth and Heaven Collide?
It is the unknown that always makes it feel like no preparation is enough.
Moreover, just yesterday's flood had passed, apart from waterproof canned or vacuum-packed food, common items like flour have been entirely ruined in supermarkets around the globe.
The most crucial thing is salt. To survive long-term, salt is indispensable.
And the salt from the salt fields is unwrapped, most certainly destroyed by the flood, which means that the salt in supermarkets or supplier warehouses might be the only salt left on Earth.
Unless someone makes their salt, but given the time, it's better to rush to the supermarket to grab goods.
The anchorwoman also joined the rush to buy but was late; in the large supermarket, she couldn't grab any canned food, only picking up a bag of salt someone else missed under the shelf.
As she was taking the small bag of salt to checkout, many people looked at her with sinister gazes.
Many people recognized her, as she was somewhat of a celebrity at the TV station, but so what? With the world ending, who cares what you used to do?
Pale skin and good looks? That means being pampered; light body and soft demeanor mean incapable of resistance; holding supplies others don't have makes her the perfect target....
But since the apocalypse hasn't truly arrived, with police still stationed outside the supermarket, besides staring at her, people didn't take any outlandish actions.
She nervously clutched the salt to the cashier, surprised to find the price had multiplied several hundred times, with her monthly salary only enough to buy one bag of salt!
"This is robbery!" The anchor protested to the cashier.
The cashier was an honest person, who hadn't had a chance to stock up yet, while other employees had already looted usable items from the supermarket warehouse and escaped. He was the only staff member left in the large supermarket because the owner was hoarding fuel.
As for the price increase, it was beyond his control; it was the owner's decision. Selling out everything on the supermarket shelves and closing up showed everyone that the supermarket was empty, preventing a future looting.
"What you hold might be the last bag of salt in New York. Are you sure you won't buy it? If the apocalypse really comes and you don't have salt, you'll probably have to risk going out to the river to lick stones in a few weeks, and you'll have to be fast, or you'll only find stones that others have licked, with no salt taste."
The cashier kindly reminded her.
".... I'll buy it." The anchorwoman took out her wallet and pulled out a credit card: "Thank you for the reminder."
"Sorry, credit cards are unusable. The major banks have adjusted their credit services, perhaps they're planning to run away too." The cashier shook his head: "Do you have cash? Although it's constantly depreciating, at least for now you can still use it."
In just one month, Earth experienced the invasion of Barbatos, the Omega Four Gods, and the Alien Sea God, sufficient to create chaos and instability.
Yet, the inertia of peace and quiet in the past didn't let people immediately notice the hidden surging tides.
Such as the severe economic damage, massive death of fauna and flora, extreme scarcity of resources.
Things ordinary people don't usually notice have now been uncovered along with Luthor's speech, marking the dawn of the apocalypse.
Whether there truly is an apocalypse or not has become irrelevant; what matters is that everyone believes the apocalypse is near, and Luthor's many performances are to make sure everyone believes it.
Look at the current situation in the supermarket; this is just a microcosm of countless supermarkets across the United States. Under the threat of life and death, will people give up if they can't buy anything in a supermarket?
It's hard to imagine they would.
Perhaps many will head to the countryside searching for supplies, but surely some will turn their attention to others...
The anchorwoman paid for the salt, holding it in her hands, head buzzing, as she walked out of the supermarket.
She no longer had the heart to make online exposés. Today's situation made her realize that the truth no longer mattered; everyone should now be preparing for apocalypse survival.
A gun, she needed a gun to protect herself. As a woman, physical strength was inherently not her advantage; only firearms could give her enough sense of security.
If her spear technique wasn't good, she could compensate by using an automatic weapon. But except in Texas, automatic weapons required judicial licenses in other parts of the United States.
Suddenly, she thought of a place, the Lex Group in Metropolis. Mr. Luthor said he donated all his wealth and inventions, might there be something better than a gun among them?
Having food would also be good.
She sat in the car's driver's seat, clutching the steering wheel in contemplation, frantically messing up her hair.
Just then, she suddenly heard a gunshot.
It turned out that on the other side of the street, a masked man shot an old lady who had just finished shopping, stole a can she had bought, and then fled.
Police officers rushed past the front of the broadcaster's car to chase the criminal.
But after the police left, chaos broke out in the supermarket as well. Soon, she could see bloodied figures crawling out from the supermarket.
Screams, the sound of shelves falling, all sorts of chaotic sounds came from the supermarket doors, and inside was a scene of bloody violence. She saw someone smashing another person's head with a rice cooker while the person on the ground tightly clutched a big bag of cookies.
She knew she couldn't stay here any longer; everyone was in danger now. She stepped on the gas pedal and immediately headed back home.
The neighborhoods she passed were all in chaos, with various brutal incidents happening in small and large shops alike, and gunfire constantly echoing throughout midday New York City, growing ever stronger.
Soon, she came across wrecked vehicles, with some bodies lying by the roadside, and in the dark alleys, occasionally red liquid would flow onto the sidewalks.
The female broadcaster knew the apocalypse had begun.
What could she do? Besides self-preservation, she had no other demands.
She quickly returned to her home, locked all the locks on the door, dragged the sofa and cabinets to barricade the doors and windows, then sat on the floor clutching salt, finally catching her breath.
However, just as she relaxed, a person suddenly walked out from the bedroom, a masked man.
He held a long knife in his hand, slowly walking towards her.
"Sorry, darling, this is just business, you're in someone else's way."
"No, don't kill me, I'll give you money, no, I'll give you food and salt." The female broadcaster retreated with her hands on the ground, her face full of terror.
"Once I kill you, those things naturally all belong to me. I'm a Cleaner, just doing the dirty work for others, and I have family to feed too. While money is still useful, don't blame me..."
The man remained unmoved, taking steps closer.
"Ah!!!" The female broadcaster screamed as she often did in the studio.
"Sizz! Slash, clatter...."
She didn't feel any pain, hearing instead the sound of dust falling on the wooden floor, followed by the sound of the long knife dropping, landing not far from her.
She opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was that the man before her had turned into humanoid ashes, yes, a pile of white ash, and his weapon now belonged to her.
"How does it feel to take a walk at death's door?"
Suddenly, a hoarse voice sounded behind her. It turned out another person walked out from the bathroom.
Unlike the previous masked thug, this person was clad in a full-body red metal armor, with a metal mask covering the face. In the nose and mouth area was a grill-like diamond-shaped iron mesh, and the eyepieces were green.
She couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman, wearing a black hooded cloak, as if the person had suddenly materialized.
"Who...who are you?" The female broadcaster wished she had more hands, to let her back away further in the shortest possible time.
But she was completely paralyzed by fear, unable to move at all.
The masked person in front of her was terrifying just by their aura, incomparable to the previous so-called professional assassin.
"I am Leviathan, the one who alters the world, you don't need to be afraid of me, I'm here to offer you hope for life," the masked cloaked figure said in a low voice. He slowly walked up to the female broadcaster and handed her a weapon: "This is for you, a solar-powered death light handgun, no need for reloading, no need for aiming, all controlled by a microcomputer. Protect yourself with it."
"....Aren't you afraid I'll use it on you?" The female broadcaster immediately took the gun, feeling much more stable inside.
"How you choose to use it is up to you." Leviathan turned and walked towards the bathroom.
"Are you Mr. Luthor? You're not dead, are you?" The female broadcaster stood up; the appearance of a hero made her feel much better.
Leviathan didn't stop walking: "Luthor is dead, perhaps he will resurrect, but I'm not him, our paths are different."
After speaking, he entered the bathroom. Shortly thereafter, a strong blue light burst from the bathroom, and by the time the female broadcaster looked again, the person was gone.
If not for the villain's ashes still on the living room floor, it would all seem like a nightmare.
However, it was destined to be a nightmare from which one could not wake up. The female broadcaster stared fixedly at the ashes on the floor, and moments later, she headed out with the death light handgun.