Chapter 83: Chapter 83 - Kshadi

In the Caribbean base, a satellite screen flickered with images of devastation. The satellite, launched by the Asan Kingdom two decades ago, was now the sole reconnaissance tool of the base. Although it was outdated compared to Zack’s LSI satellite—lacking clarity and zoom capabilities—it was still a remarkable feat to retain control of such technology after the apocalypse. While it couldn’t capture fine details like LSI, it provided just enough resolution to observe events on the ground.

Kshadi, a bearded man with a weathered face, stared at the satellite feed in shock. “What kind of weapons are these?” he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Since when did they have such advanced technology?”

Kshadi was one of the three leaders of the Caribbean base. His companions were no less interesting. Navas Puticha, a brash man, shared his leadership role. Clint, the infamous sharpshooter spotted at the Imperial Capital base, was Navas’ half-brother. The third leader, Jock Forsman, hailed from the East and was a former soldier.

Unlike Kshadi and Navas, who shared cultural roots, Jock’s authority stemmed from his military background. Before the apocalypse, he was just a lowly sergeant in a foreign land, resentful of his posting. But when the world fell apart, Jock transformed into a local warlord, ruling with impunity. At Caribbean base, his voice carried more weight than the others. He wielded his power cruelly, exploiting people and resources with no regard for humanity. Many women had fallen victim to his predations, only to be replaced by younger ones, sent by those desperate to curry favor.

Jock leaned back in his chair, staring at the satellite image with a glint of greed. The screen displayed a black dot—a Avalon—hovering over a scorched battlefield. “Don’t worry,” he said with a sly grin. “There’s no major survivor base near NYC City. Whatever weapon that aircraft belongs to will be ours soon enough.”

Kshadi hesitated, frowning. “Are you sure about this? We can’t underestimate them.”

“You fool,” Navas sneered, his disdain for Kshadi evident. “These survivors are cowards. A little pressure, and they’ll hand over everything willingly.”

“And if they don’t?” Kshadi asked, still uncertain.

Jock interrupted with a sharp laugh. “Then we’ll make them regret it. We’ve got dozens of fighter jets and hundreds of ballistic missiles. We’ll wipe them off the map.”

Kshadi’s expression wavered, but Jock’s confidence was infectious. Navas chimed in again, adding fuel to the fire. “Their Imperial Capital base already has our spies embedded. Those five thousand girls sent there are just a distraction. The real plan is to use Kane to destabilize the base and, eventually, the entire region.”

Kshadi finally nodded, his reluctance fading. Human ambition had only grown more unrestrained in the chaos of the apocalypse, morality eroded by desperation and greed. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s contact the base that owns this aircraft. Demand they hand it over. If they refuse, remind them what we’re capable of.”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Jock’s grin widened as he barked orders. “Make it clear: resistance means annihilation.”

Meanwhile, Zack had just returned to his Mansion after a successful weapons test. The micro-cluster sprinkler system had proven devastating against ordinary zombies, but Zack wasn’t satisfied. Seated at his workbench, he pulled up schematics of the MV-02W, muttering to himself. “The aerodynamics are awful,” he said, frowning. “It’s like trying to make a brick fly.”

The MV-02W was a powerhouse but had glaring flaws. Its bulky design, with a Vulcan machine gun folded on its back, multiple shoulder-mounted weapons, and a massive bomb compartment, severely hindered its speed. Despite having four auxiliary thrusters on its back and legs, the MV-02W could barely break the sound barrier, maxing out at Mach 1.1. Even the Avalon, with its sleek design, performed better in terms of speed.

Zack stood before the armor, muttering to himself. "Back in its prime, MV-02 could easily exceed Mach 1.3. But now? It's just a MV-02W strapped with a boxy spreader that drags it down. Breaking the sound barrier? Forget it." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "That spreader might as well be an anchor with the drag it adds."

The idea bugged him. He turned to Ego. "Run a simulation. What happens if I crank up the thruster power and force it to go supersonic?"

Ego’s voice responded almost instantly. "The spreader and right shoulder armor would be torn off by the extreme wind resistance the moment the sound barrier is breached."

Zack groaned. "Figures. Maybe... I could reduce the spreader’s size and ammo capacity, then move it somewhere less exposed, like the back of the armor. That would free up the right shoulder for something better—maybe a missile launch system!" His eyes lit up as inspiration struck.

Grabbing a pen and some paper, Zack sketched out a rough redesign. He muttered under his breath, "If the spreader’s hidden inside the armor, it’ll streamline everything. And with the shoulder freed up… missile launch nest. Perfect."

Meanwhile, in the basement, a swarm of mechanical Ants crawled along the walls, drilling holes and installing components. A holographic projection system slowly began to take shape. Suddenly, Zack slammed his pencil down. "Damn it! I’m so stupid!" He crumpled the sketch into a ball and hurled it into the wastebasket across the room. The noise startled the mechanical Ants, but when Ego determined there was no actual issue, they resumed their work.

"This is pointless!" Zack exclaimed, pacing. "Why waste time fixing MV-02? It’s ancient! I’m trying to fit a race car engine into a clunky old wagon and wondering why it doesn’t fly!"

He stopped mid-stride, realization dawning on him. "I’ve been overthinking it. Instead of patching up old tech, I should just build something new and better."

Zack slapped his forehead in frustration and began pacing, his hands gesturing animatedly as ideas churned in his mind. “Back when I built the MV-02, I didn’t have the precision tools I have now. No nanoscale mechanical arms, no autonomous insect drones. I was practically working in the dark ages! Now, I can push boundaries—even without access to exotic elements.”

His eyes lit up as a thought struck him. “Ultralium alloy! Of course. Lightweight, durable, and easy to refine. Perfect for the job.” He turned to Ego. “Pull up the specs for all my prior designs.”

Ego’s interface flickered to life, projecting a series of blueprints onto the workshop’s main display. Zack skimmed through them, muttering his thoughts as he reviewed each iteration.

“MV-02… decent, but too reliant on bulk. MV-03… just a polished version of the 02, nothing groundbreaking. MV-04… ah, the stealth variant. Nice, but not my priority now.” He scrolled further, his eyes narrowing in concentration. Then, something caught his attention. “MV07! That’s the one. Modular, adaptable, can assemble on the fly, and it’s perfect for remote operation or quick repairs.”