Chapter 62: Chapter 62 - Dr. Samson

Zack froze, his expression twitching. “Did I seriously design this suit just for you to feel comfortable farting?!”

“Relax, I was just joking.” Erza grinned mischievously.

“Whatever. As long as you’re happy,” Zack muttered, shaking his head as he headed back to the basement. Just then, Ego’s voice cut in.

“Sir, the LSI satellite has captured clear images of survivors at the laboratory. Would you like to review them?”

Zack glanced at the satellite footage projected by Ego. On the screen was an older man, likely in his late forties or early fifties. He had a scholarly aura, his tall frame clad in a pristine white lab coat. Gold-rimmed glasses perched elegantly on his hooked nose added a refined touch to his demeanor.

But that wasn’t what caught Zack’s attention. Behind the man stood seven or eight armed survivors, holding a mix of shotguns and rifles. However, it was the two hulking figures flanking them that drew Zack’s focus. Neither human nor zombie, they looked like grotesque amalgamations of human and animal parts, haphazardly stitched together into monstrous forms.

Ego’s voice chimed in. “Samson Edward, commonly referred to as Dr. Samson. Formerly the chief physician at Bellevue Hospital”

“Yale alumnus with dual doctorates in surgery and physiology,” Ego continued. “It is likely he’s developed some form of biological modification technology.”

Zack eyed the two monstrosities in the image. “Those things are definitely not natural,” he muttered. The thought clicked. These creatures were the reason Dr. Samson dared to establish a base in the city center—a hub teeming with zombies.

Zack’s voice interrupted Zack’s train of thought. “Let’s go meet him,” he said, securing his MV-02W suit with the help of a mechanical arm.

Before leaving, Zack took a quick check on the production line for his mechanical insects. The basement had already churned out three new manufacturing units, with a fourth nearly complete. “Once this batch is done, halt insect production,” Zack instructed Ego. “Switch focus to assembling spiders, then resume Ant output later.”

“Understood, sir,” Ego replied smoothly.

Satisfied, Zack exchanged a few words with Annie and then launched into the air. Within seconds, he accelerated to Mach 1.3, the sonic boom echoing as he disappeared into the sky.

South Manhattan, once a bustling metropolis, had become a nightmarish playground for the undead. Zombies filled the streets, their groans forming an eerie chorus. Zack scanned the city below, frowning. “Am I imagining things, or are there way more mutated zombies here than in other places?”

Ego chimed in. “It’s possible, sir. Population density might play a factor.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Zack shrugged off the thought, focusing instead on his descent. He lowered his altitude as he neared the biological laboratory.

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Unbeknownst to Zack, he was being watched. On a nearby rooftop, a pale, ugly man with disturbingly gaunt features tracked Zack’s movement through a pair of binoculars. His skin was so sickly white it was hard to tell if he was human or something else entirely.

Grabbing his walkie-talkie, the man spoke into it. “Dr. Samson, we’ve got a humanoid craft heading your way.”

A deep, calm voice replied through the static. “Understood.”

The man packed up his equipment and walked off the rooftop, sauntering confidently into the street. The zombies milling about paid him no mind, parting as he passed. Zack hovered above the lab, taking in the layout. It was located next to a university, with a hospital not far away—the very hospital where Dr. Samson had once worked.

“Strange choice for a base,” Zack muttered, noting the poor strategic location. But on closer inspection, he noticed several upgrades.

The fences had been raised and reinforced, with platforms installed for sentries to patrol. A few armed survivors stood on the walls, their guns trained on Zack as he descended. Despite their weapons, they hesitated, clearly unsure of what to do.

Zack smirked. “Looks like Dr. Samson knows how to run a tight ship.”

He landed with a resounding boom, his suit leaving a cracked crater on the cement. “D-Don’t move!” one of the guards shouted, his voice shaking. “Or we’ll shoot!” Their fear was obvious. None of them had the nerve to aim directly at Zack, their guns wavering unsteadily.

Zack raised his hands mockingly. “Relax. I’m just here to see your boss, Dr. Samson.” Without waiting for a response, he activated his thrusters, vaulting over the gate.

“Stop! If you move any closer, we’ll shoot!” another guard yelled.

Zack’s Vulcan machine gun swiveled instantly, locking onto the guards. The whirring sound froze them in place. “I wouldn’t recommend it,” Zack warned, continuing toward the lab without even turning around.

The guards exchanged panicked glances, their faces pale. Before they could decide on their next move, a voice rang out. “Put the guns down!” Dr. Samson stepped out of the lab, his white coat fluttering as he waved frantically at the guards. “Stand down! Now!” Relieved, the guards quickly lowered their weapons.

Zack deactivated his Vulcan gun and studied the man who approached. Ego’s voice sounded in his ear. “Sir, the target’s energy readings are abnormal. He may be a mutant.”

“Noted,” Zack murmured, quietly raising his guard.

The man stopped a few feet away, his sharp eyes scanning Zack’s imposing armor with a mix of caution and fascination. Adjusting the gold-rimmed glasses perched on his aquiline nose, he called out, “Who are you, and why are you here?”

Zack’s voice, slightly distorted through his helmet's speakers, came out firm. “I could ask you the same thing. Identify yourself.”

The man raised a brow, nodding thoughtfully as he folded his arms. “Dr. Samson. I’m the head researcher here. And you?”

Zack didn’t lower his guard. “Call me Zack. I’m here to investigate this facility.”

Dr. Samson tilted his head, his expression sharpening as his curiosity deepened. “I see,” he said slowly, his gaze sweeping over Zack’s exoskeleton. “That suit of yours… remarkable. I’ve never seen technology like that, especially in these conditions. What’s your purpose here, Zack? Surely someone with resources like yours isn’t wandering by chance.”

"I'm here for the biology lab," Zack interrupted, his tone cutting. "As of now, I’m taking over this base."

Dr. Samson’s smile froze for a moment before he forced another laugh. "Ah, Mr. Zack, surely you're joking! This base represents the efforts of many people."

"Many people?" Zack said, his gaze shifting to the laboratory building. "Are there survivors here?"

"Of course," Dr. Samson said quickly, his demeanor still friendly. "Why don’t you come inside and see for yourself?"

"Fine," Zack replied curtly. As Zack agreed, a flicker of something dark passed through Dr. Samson’s eyes. The corners of his mouth twitched upward into a barely noticeable, cruel smile. "Right this way, Mr. Zack," he said, leading Zack inside.

Inside the laboratory building, just as Dr. Samson had said, there were survivors—about twenty of them. Some were elderly, while others were children. At first glance, they seemed to be doing well. They didn’t look malnourished, and their living conditions appeared decent. Yet Zack noticed something unsettling.