Antonny and his team hadn't fallen to the zombie tide but had been betrayed—killed by their own people because of greed. Zack's expression darkened as his frustration simmered beneath the surface. "What about the helicopter that got away? Who's on board?" he asked.
Ego responded promptly. "Satellite footage shows only one occupant, a female pilot. Based on her profile, she matches Ms. Ava—the student who piloted a fighter during the last zombie wave. Her aircraft is moving southwest from the Imperial Capital, but she's been changing direction frequently. Her destination is currently unclear."
Zack frowned slightly. "Ava… I remember her." The boldness of the pilot student during the previous zombie attack had left an impression.
"Keep an eye on her. Let me know if anything changes," he ordered. Then his tone hardened. "Also, focus on the Caribbean base. I want detailed information on these two bastards."
"Understood, Sir," Ego replied.
Two hours later, Zack landed the Avalon in the open space in front of the steel plant. The aircraft touched down smoothly, its cabin loaded to capacity.
"Mr. Zack!"
"Mr. Zack!"
A small group led by Charles approached, their excitement evident. Many of them carried a glint of admiration—or perhaps fanaticism—in their eyes. They had been briefed ahead of time that Zack, the man in the nanosuit, was arriving. "Charles, have your men unload the cargo from the cabin. Be careful when handling it," Zack instructed, his voice steady but commanding as he jumped down from the plane.
"Understood! Ernest, get some people to help unload!" Charles called out to a lean man standing nearby.
Ernest quickly gathered a group of workers—men who had previously been prisoners but were now reformed under the order of the steel plant. With guaranteed food, safety, and shelter, these men were far more disciplined than before. "Move carefully," Charles reminded them. "Don't mess this up."
"Got it, Charles!" Ernest replied as he led the group to the Avalon's rear. The hatch opened with a soft hiss. As it did, something large and grotesque tumbled out—a severed tiger's head, its size massive, its blood-soaked features frozen in a snarl. The stench of death and iron filled the air.
"Ah!" "A tiger?!" Ernest and the others recoiled, stumbling back in shock. The sight of the monstrous head left some trembling, their faces pale.
"What's the panic for?" Zack's calm voice cut through the commotion as he kicked the tiger's head aside nonchalantly. "It's already dead." Swallowing their fear, Ernest's group slowly returned to their feet, wiping sweat from their brows before proceeding to unload the rest of the cargo.
"Mr. Zack, the factory building you requested has been prepared and cleared out," Charles reported as Zack oversaw the unloading. He hesitated for a moment before asking, "But… you mentioned no workers would be needed. How will it operate?"
"Machines will handle it," Zack replied plainly. "Your job is to supply the necessary materials—copper, iron, tungsten, and other components—on time. The Armory is now a restricted area. No one is allowed near it without my permission."
Though Zack's tone remained calm, it carried an air of authority that left no room for debate. "Understood," Charles said quickly. He was nothing if not loyal. In the steel plant, his devotion to Zack was unmatched, and his leadership ensured no one dared challenge his position as Zack's closest ally.
As the cargo was moved, Ego remotely piloted the Avalon to shuttle between the steel plant and the mountain Armory, transporting production lines, mechanical Ants, and vast quantities of military supplies. Once on-site, the mechanical Ants got to work immediately, harvesting local materials to construct robotic arms and automated machinery.
By dusk, the Armory roared to life. Materials were fed into fully automated machines, processed, and transferred onto assembly lines. Robotic arms worked tirelessly, loading tungsten-alloy armor-piercing bullets and incendiary warheads into containers. Each time a container was filled, mechanical Ants rolled a new one into place to keep production flowing seamlessly. "How's the efficiency?" Zack asked, examining a handful of freshly-made armor-piercing rounds.
"With sufficient materials, we can produce 80,000 tungsten-core armor-piercing rounds and 50,000 incendiary rounds daily," Ego reported. "Output may vary slightly depending on the caliber of the bullets, but it should remain consistent overall."
"Eighty thousand rounds?" Zack raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Looks like we've solved the bullet shortage. Next, we'll need to get the micro-missile production line up and running." He than check the project that Zack has tasked them on creating a new ingot from his blueprint. "Let me take a look," Zack said, taking the ingot from his hands. He turned it over, inspecting its surface as Ego's scanning module activated, emitting a faint blue light that washed over the alloy.
"Material detected," Ego reported in its calm, mechanical tone. "Ultralium, Composition: 60% Gold, 32.7% Titanium, 7.3% graphene infusion."
Zack raised an eyebrow. "Ultralium? That's a new one. What's the verdict?"
Ego continued, "Hardness is 23 times that of standard steel. Exceptional toughness, high thermal conductivity, and extreme resistance to acids, alkalis, and radiation. However, ductility is slightly lower than optimal, and microfractures may form under repeated high-impact stress."
Zack rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "In short?"
"It's a robust material with significant potential for reinforcement but not ideal for applications requiring extensive flexibility," Ego concluded.
Zack let out a low whistle, impressed despite the noted limitations. "Not bad for something produced in this wasteland. Twenty-three times harder than steel—now we're talking."
The wiry man, Ernest, watched nervously as Zack inspected the metal further. "How many of these ingots have you managed to produce so far?" Zack asked, his tone sharp.
"Is there a problem?" Zack pressed.
Ernest nodded hesitantly. "Actually, two problems, Mr. Zack. First, smelting Ultralium alloy is incredibly difficult. Even with the method you provided, the workers just aren't efficient enough."
"And the second problem?" Zack asked.
Ernest scratched his head, clearly embarrassed. "The material's, uh… mostly gold. Sixty percent, to be exact. We're running out of Gold."
Zack sighed, realizing the issue. "How much gold do we have left in the factory?"
Ernest answered quickly, "Less than two hundred pounds."
That wasn't much, considering the sheer amount they'd started with. Zack had previously deployed mechanical dogs to scavenge precious metals from abandoned jewelry stores and banks throughout NYC City. They'd found a decent haul, but it was clearly dwindling fast. "Two hundred pounds isn't nearly enough," Zack said thoughtfully. After a moment, he added, "Take a few people and some mechanical dogs out on another run. I'll supply you with thermite grenades and a laser cutter."
Ernest blinked in confusion. "Thermite grenades? Laser cutter?"
Zack smirked. "Banks. Specifically, vaults."
Ernest's eyes lit up, understanding immediately. Few people could resist the allure of a bank's vault. Leaving the steel plant behind, Zack returned to his Mansion. The first thing he did after shedding his nanosuit was order Ego to ramp up production. "Start producing more mechanical Ants. And keep building Avalons—we're going to need at least three, if not more. Mechanical dogs and spiders? Keep those coming. No cap on numbers—the more, the better," Zack instructed in one breath.