"No way! You're coming too!" shouted Antonny, their leader. "The hangar's just ahead! Once we're on the plane—"
A gunshot cut him off mid-sentence. Antonny turned to see the pilot who had volunteered to cover them fall to the ground, blood pooling beneath his lifeless body. "Adam!!!" Antonny screamed, his eyes blazing with fury. "You bastards! Is killing us all really necessary?!"
He raised his gun and opened fire, his shots precise and deadly. Several pursuers dropped instantly, but their numbers were overwhelming. Before long, Antonny took two bullets—one to the shoulder, another to his lower abdomen. He stumbled and nearly collapsed, but one of his teammates caught him and dragged him toward the hangar.
"Get the captain on board!" another pilot shouted, taking cover and laying down suppressive fire. He and his partner exchanged grim looks before stepping out of cover, determined to buy their comrades more time.
From the enemy ranks, a man with sharp features stepped forward, wielding a large-caliber revolver. His movements were deliberate, his aim unerring. Bang! Bang! Two shots rang out, and the pilots fell instantly, each bullet striking dead center in their foreheads.
"Well done," said a voice from the shadows. Kane, one of the masterminds behind the coup, stepped forward, applauding slowly. "With marksmanship like that, have you considered staying at our base once this is all over?" His tone was light, almost playful, but his eyes glinted with cold malice. As a ruthless real estate mogul turned warlord, Kane's unassuming name masked a deadly ambition—and a willingness to crush anyone who stood in his way.
Antonny, the founder of the base, had suffered heavy losses during repeated missions to fight off threats. Each time he went out, his subordinates faced severe casualties. This left his position vulnerable, and Kane, along with his accomplices, seized the opportunity to wrest control of the base.
The devastating Battle of NYC was no exception. Antonny's forces were crushed, and his loyal followers were dwindling rapidly. Seeing the perfect chance to strike, Kane allied with the other Base—a large survivor base on their south. Together, they planned to eliminate Antonny and his remaining men. "Not interested," Clint, a middle-aged man with a stern expression, said flatly. His tone carried no hint of emotion. "If it weren't for my boss's orders, I wouldn't even bother with these people."
Kane wasn't fazed by the rejection. Instead, he pressed on with a sly grin. What he cared about most was ensuring Antonny's death and securing absolute control over the Imperial Capital base. "Relax," Kane replied confidently. "Once it's done, you'll get what you want—five thousand girls, as promised."
The population of the base was in the hundreds of thousands. Even if the ratio of women was low, there were still over 20,000. Giving away 5,000 wasn't a problem for Kane. He was already scheming to send older women to make up the numbers if needed. "Don't try to fool us," Clint said coldly, his sharp eyes narrowing. "We want girls, not your tricks."
Kane's scheming mind was exposed, and he could only laugh awkwardly. "Of course. You'll get exactly what you asked for." Clint snorted but didn't linger. Without another word, he headed toward the hangar where Antonny and his men were hiding.
Inside the hangar, chaos reigned. Antonny's group was making a desperate attempt to escape. "Start it up, quickly!" Ava, one of Antonny's trusted allies, shouted as she frantically activated the armed helicopter. The blades roared to life, sending a deafening sound reverberating through the space.
"Leave me! Steve, you and Ava get out of here!" Antonny, bleeding heavily from two gunshot wounds, struggled to keep his voice steady despite his weakening state.
"No way! Captain, hang in there!" Steve, a young soldier with a limp from a bullet wound in his leg, gritted his teeth and continued dragging Antonny toward the helicopter.
Before they could reach safety, Clint entered the hangar like a shadow of death. His revolver barked once, and the soldier standing guard crumpled to the ground, a neat hole between his eyes. His speed and accuracy were terrifying, as if aiming wasn't even necessary. "You won't escape!" Clint shouted, his voice echoing over the deafening sound of the rotors.
Steve, despite his injuries, turned to face Clint, raising his pistol in a last act of defiance. But Clint was faster. Another shot rang out, and Steve collapsed, lifeless. With no one to support him, Antonny fell to the ground as well, his blood pooling beneath him.
"Damn it!" From inside the helicopter, Ava saw the carnage. Rage filled her eyes as she pulled the control stick. The helicopter lifted slightly off the ground, its nose swiveling to aim at Clint. Moments later, twin Gatling guns roared, unleashing a hail of bullets in his direction. Clint's expression didn't change. He rolled swiftly to avoid the gunfire, moving like a predator.
"Captain! Get on board!" Ava yelled, her voice cracking under the pressure.
"Leave me!" Antonny shouted back, his voice hoarse but commanding. "That's an order!"
"Captain!" Ava hesitated, tears brimming in her eyes.
"GO!" Antonny's roar was filled with a last surge of strength, a leader's final command. "Obey orders!"
With trembling hands, Ava bit back her emotions and turned the helicopter toward the exit. The Gatlings fired relentlessly, mowing down the pursuers waiting outside as she made her escape.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Clint fired three precise shots, each hitting the same spot on the helicopter's steel plate. The bullets penetrated the armor, but the helicopter didn't go down. It rose into the sky, escaping into the distance. Watching the helicopter disappear, Kane scowled. "One of them got away?"
"I never fail," Clint replied coldly, his voice devoid of doubt. He holstered his revolver and walked back into the hangar.
Inside, Antonny lay motionless beside Steve's body, his strength completely gone. His once-determined eyes grew dim as doubt crept into his mind. Was everything he fought for worth it? He couldn't protect his men, couldn't protect the survivors…
As darkness closed in, a faint, imagined voice broke through his despair. It was Steve's voice, joined by others he had lost.
"Captain, it's not your fault."
"If we don't protect the survivors, then who will?"
"We're soldiers, Captain. We don't regret it."
A faint smile appeared on Antonny's lips, and then everything went silent.
Elsewhere, Zack sat in his Armory, staring at Ego's holographic display. "What?! Antonny is dead?"
"Yes, Sir" Ego replied. "Satellite footage suggests a power struggle broke out in the Imperial Capital Base. Antonny's faction was overthrown. Only one helicopter escaped."
Zack clenched his fists. Antonny had once traveled thousands of miles to help him fight a massive zombie horde. He still owed the man a favor—a debt he could never repay now.
"And the ones responsible?" Zack asked grimly.
"A third-party force from South region, The Caribbean base, seems to have been involved,"
Ego's capacity to manage such a wealth of information with just one satellite was already impressive.
"Caribbean base?" Zack's voice was sharp, with a trace of icy anger. "Greed," he muttered, his tone growing colder. "Their hands are reaching too far."