Common Sense Hijack System-Chapter 149: Madness

---

The tension hadn’t even begun to settle before the next crisis hit.

It started with shouting.

Karl and Curtis were still at the table, their card game briefly forgotten as the noise from the street below grew louder.

"Shit," Curtis muttered, pushing himself up. "What now?"

Karl moved to the window, peering through the cracked blinds.

A group of people—maybe a dozen, maybe more—were gathered in the snow-covered street outside the apartment complex. They were from the building across the way, the scavengers, the ones who had been sniffing around ever since the power shifted in their favor.

They looked angry. Desperate.

And they were demanding something.

Curtis moved beside Karl, eyes narrowing. "You recognize any of ’em?"

Karl nodded. "Yeah. One of them."

Curtis grimaced. "Great. Some asshole."

Mason was a known problem. He had been a nobody before the collapse—just another burnout with a superiority complex. But now? Now he had leverage. A small crew. And enough arrogance to think he could push his weight around.

From the street, Mason’s voice carried upward, sharp and cutting through the cold.

"We know you’ve got more supplies!" he shouted, his breath misting in the freezing air. "We saw that snowmobile come and go! You think you can just take and take while we starve?! We want our share!"

Curtis snorted. "Yeah? And I want a steak dinner and a working toilet, but you don’t see me throwing a tantrum."

Karl wasn’t amused. His gut was twisting.

This was bad.

Because Mason didn’t come alone.

And because Emmet was still upstairs.

And because...

A sound—low and steady, like something massive shifting—echoed from inside the building.

Karl and Curtis locked eyes.

"Ah, fuck," Curtis whispered.

Emmet was coming.

---

The front door slammed open.

Emmet stepped out.

The laughter was gone. The manic energy from earlier? Absent.

But something else had taken its place.

Something colder.

The scavengers faltered.

Mason—either too stupid or too stubborn to back down—puffed out his chest. "That’s right, big guy! We know you got more! And we ain’t leaving until we get it!"

Emmet just looked at him.

Not a word. Not a twitch.

Just... stared.

The silence stretched.

Then, slowly, Emmet lifted his hand and reached back inside the doorway.

When it emerged, it held an axe.

Not a sleek, modern tool.

A brutal, ancient thing—steel chipped and worn, the handle wrapped in leather and old, dried blood.

A killer’s axe.

Mason’s bravado wavered. "Hey, man—"

Emmet moved.

Fast.

Too fast for a man his size.

The axe came down before Mason could react, splitting the air—splitting bone.

A scream tore through the street.

Not Mason’s.

One of his crew.

The woman beside him—her arm, her fucking arm—gone. Just gone. Severed at the shoulder in a single, effortless stroke.

She crumpled.

The others panicked.

Emmet smiled.

Mason stumbled back, his face draining of color. "H-Holy shit—"

Emmet didn’t let him finish.

The axe came up.

Then down.

Then again.

And again.

And then—

Chaos.

Screaming. Running. Blood staining the snow.

Karl and Curtis could only watch.

Curtis swallowed. "Yeah, uh... I think we might have a problem."

Karl didn’t respond.

Because Emmet was still swinging.

And no one was stopping him.

Not yet.

---

Julia arrived like a shadow creeping into the chaos.

Silent. Composed. Untouched by the slaughter unfolding before her.

Emmet stood in the middle of the carnage, his breath heavy, his shoulders rising and falling like a machine that had finally run out of fuel.

Blood dripped from the axe in his grip, pooling in the snow, steaming in the cold.

The scavengers who were still alive? They weren’t fighting anymore. They were fleeing.

But Julia wasn’t watching them.

She was watching Emmet.

And Emmet...

Was watching her back.

Karl felt it before he understood it—something in the air shifted. The way Emmet’s stance, so filled with rage and unrelenting destruction just moments before, stilled.

His grip on the axe loosened.

His breathing slowed.

He was... waiting.

Julia took another step forward, heels crunching softly in the red-stained snow.

"That’s enough," she said.

Emmet didn’t move.

Didn’t argue. Didn’t question.

He should have.

He had no reason to stop.

But instead...

The axe lowered.

Karl felt his throat tighten.

He knew what he was witnessing.

Not control. Not fear.

Something worse.

Emmet obeyed.

And not out of submission.

Out of trust.

The monster that had just torn men apart without hesitation had stopped because Julia said so.

Not because she had power over him.

Because he wanted to listen to her.

Curtis, still crouched beside Karl, whispered, "That is fucked up."

Karl couldn’t even argue.

Julia stepped closer to Emmet, her gloved fingers gently touching the haft of the axe. "You’re done here."

A beat of silence.

Then Emmet let go.

The weapon hit the ground with a dull thud.

Julia smiled.

"Good boy."

Emmet shivered.

Not from the cold.

And Karl realized, with a quiet horror creeping into his bones—

Julia had never needed to be stronger than anyone.

She just needed them to want to serve her.

And she had won.

Again.

---

Julia turned to the survivors—the ones who hadn’t been cleaved apart, the ones still standing despite the blood soaking the snow beneath them.

Her expression didn’t shift. It didn’t soften.

She just looked at them.

Cold. Detached.

Then she spoke.

"Go home."

No yelling. No threats.

Just two words.

And yet, every single person left standing flinched like she’d pointed a gun at their heads.

Mason, his face pale, took a stumbling step backward. "But we—"

Julia tilted her head, and Mason froze.

Like a rabbit realizing the wolf was still hungry.

Like a man who understood, too late, that he was never in control of this situation to begin with.

"You came here demanding something that was never yours," Julia said, voice calm. "You thought you had the numbers. You thought you had leverage."

Her eyes flicked to Emmet, then back to Mason.

"But now," she continued, "you have nothing."

Mason swallowed.

The others, barely able to stand, kept quiet.

Julia’s voice didn’t change. "Leave. Now. Before I change my mind."

No one hesitated this time.

They turned. Stumbled.

And ran.

The ones who could, at least.

The ones who couldn’t?

They were left behind.

Julia didn’t care.

She turned back toward the apartment complex, her posture still perfect, still composed.

She looked up at the people watching from the windows and balconies, silent witnesses to the carnage.

And then—

She smiled.

"Back inside," she called out. "All of you."

No one argued.

The doors slammed shut.

---

Karl didn’t say a word as he made his way back up the stairs.

Curtis was right behind him, breathing a little heavier than usual. "Okay," he muttered, rubbing his temple, "so that happened."

Karl didn’t respond.

His head was still spinning.

Emmet had gone berserk. Mason’s group had been annihilated.

And Julia?

Julia had just cleaned up the mess like it was another Tuesday.

They reached Karl’s door, and he barely had time to open it before—

"Karl!"

The second he stepped inside, Jane was on him.

Her hands gripped his arms, her blue eyes wide with barely concealed panic. "What happened?!"

Layla stood just behind her, arms crossed, her usual confident smirk nowhere to be found.

"We heard screaming," Layla said, voice sharp. "A lot of screaming."

Jane’s hands tightened. "Are you okay?"

Karl blinked.

Then exhaled.

"...Yeah," he muttered. "I’m fine."

Jane didn’t look convinced. "Did someone attack the building?"

Curtis stepped past Karl, flopping onto the nearest chair like his legs had given out. "Nah," he muttered. "More like Emmet attacked them."

Layla narrowed her eyes. "What?"

Curtis threw his arms out. "Dude went full-on horror movie villain. Blood, screaming, the works."

Jane paled. "Oh my God..."

Karl rubbed his temple. "It’s over now."

Layla studied him for a moment, then scoffed. "Yeah? You sure about that?"

Karl didn’t answer.

Because no—

He wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

"Alright, man," Curtis muttered, exhaling. "I’m heading back. Try not to die in your sleep, yeah?"

Karl shot him a dry look. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Curtis smirked. "Anytime, Your Majesty."

Karl closed the door behind Curtis and let out a slow breath. The weight of the night pressed on his shoulders, and the cold that had seeped into his bones refused to fade.

Jane and Layla were still watching him, waiting for an explanation—one he wasn’t sure how to give.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "Look... I don’t know what the hell just happened out there. But Julia—" His voice faltered for a second. "Julia took control of the situation. Completely."

Layla’s brow furrowed. "You mean she manipulated them."

Karl hesitated. "I mean... she didn’t need to."

Layla scoffed, crossing her arms. "That’s the same thing."

Karl shook his head. "No. It’s worse."

Jane sat down, biting her lip. "How is it worse?"

"Because Emmet listened," Karl said, meeting her gaze. "He stopped. Not because she scared him. Not because she threatened him. Because she told him to."

The room went silent.