Elsewhere, the rest of the world struggled to grasp the growing enigma of Zack's faction. The major bases on earth were scrambling for information about NYC, desperate to understand what was happening in Zack's domain. In one of the basses, several high-ranking officials gathered in a dimly lit room, their faces etched with frustration. "NYC reportedly developed a low-orbit stealth satellite," one suggested. "We need something similar."
"We funded a similar project years ago," another chimed in. "Get it operational." But no matter their efforts, their lack of intelligence was glaring. The zombie wave that had ravaged the Northern Base was a complete mystery to them. In fact, they knew nothing about the state of the northern hemisphere at all.
The northern hemisphere's skies were completely dark to their surveillance—no satellites, no drones, no reconnaissance aircraft. Any attempts to cross into Zack's domain resulted in immediate loss of contact.
"It's like fighting blind," one executive muttered. "Meanwhile, he has night vision goggles and a loaded gun."
"And he's not afraid to use them," another added grimly.
"Damn it!" A senior executive slammed his keyboard in frustration. "I looked into it—this plan never even got off the ground! Those bastards were just embezzling funds!"
"Are you serious?" another bellowed, his face turning red. "Those fraudsters! I checked the archives. There's only one folder labeled for the project—and it's empty!"
The conference room erupted into curses and insults aimed at the long-gone opportunists who had siphoned funds for personal gain. The irony wasn't lost on many of the executives, who had, in their own ways, benefited from similar practices in the past.
Amid the chaos, the conference room door creaked open, and a man stepped in. He was a researcher, one with little to no presence in daily operations. His name tag read Master. "What are you doing here?" barked one of the executives, his anger spilling over onto the unassuming intruder. "This is a private meeting! Get out before I have you removed!"
Before the guards stationed nearby could act, Master calmly approached the table. Without a word, he set down a stack of documents bound in plain, nondescript folders. "This is a small token of goodwill from EPOCH," he said with a faint, knowing smile. Then, just as calmly as he had entered, he turned to leave.
The executives froze. EPOCH —Exploration and Progress Organization: The Vanguard for Humanity—was a name that commanded both intrigue and dread. One of the soldiers moved to examine the stack, wary of potential traps.
"Don't touch it!" an executive barked. "Everyone out—now!" Reluctantly, the soldiers exited the room, leaving the executives to examine the mysterious delivery. After a moment of hushed whispers explaining EPOCH's reputation to those less informed, one of the higher-ups reached for the documents.
As they skimmed the contents, the executives' expressions morphed from skepticism to shock. "This can't be real," one muttered, flipping through blueprints and technical schematics.
"Graphene batteries?" another blurted out. "Two thousand times the lifespan of lithium-ion? Are they serious?"
"Electromagnetic railguns?" someone else exclaimed. "The Navy barely managed a prototype before the collapse. And they've perfected it?"
The room buzzed with excitement and disbelief, but one page silenced them all: detailed schematics of a stealth radar satellite. "This is… from the russian?" an executive whispered, barely able to contain his astonishment.
The documents, written in precise language and annotated in the northern dialect, were clear proof of high-level espionage or collaboration. The sudden windfall of advanced technology left the executives practically salivating. Master, who had remained by the door, watched their reactions with a bemused expression. "Consider this a welcome gift from EPOCH," he said lightly, his tone tinged with faint amusement.
One executive, trying to recover his composure, straightened his tie and addressed Master. "And what does EPOCH want in return for this… generosity?"
Master's smirk deepened. "Nothing at all," he replied smoothly. "Our organization is committed to the advancement of humanity, even in times as dire as these. Our goal is simple: to create a global community with a shared future. Any technological advancements we make, we freely share for the betterment of mankind."
His words rang with practiced sincerity, but no one in the room believed him. The executives, jaded and cunning, saw through the charade. Still, the documents were too valuable to dismiss. "If your goal is so noble," one executive challenged, "why haven't you shared this knowledge before now?"
Master's smile didn't falter. "Because," he said smoothly, "we hadn't finished developing it." It was a blatant lie, of course. Some of the technologies dated back decades, their theoretical foundations well-known. But practicality had kept them out of reach—until now. With the chaos wrought by Zack and the zombie apocalypse, the value of cutting-edge weaponry like electromagnetic railguns had skyrocketed.
"We know what this is about," another executive finally said. "You want us to pave the way for the NYC, don't you?"
Master's smile sharpened at the mention of the infamous trading hub. "What you choose to do with the information is entirely up to you," he said, his tone smooth and noncommittal. "But remember—knowledge is power, and power demands action." As he turned to leave, his voice carried one final note of subtle challenge. "Good luck, gentlemen. The world is watching."
The leadership at Dragon Base wasn't foolish. It took them little time to decipher the Vanguard Organization's true intentions. "So that's their game," someone muttered, piecing it together.
Master, standing confidently, offered a faint smile. "I've made myself clear—humanity should stand united in the face of extinction. Sharing technology with the world isn't just beneficial; it's a moral obligation. Refusing to do so..." He paused, letting his words sink in. "Wouldn't that be anti-human?"
His devilish grin made everyone in the room uneasy. They understood his implication. But their greed demanded more assurances. "What else can you offer us?" one executive asked, his tone dripping with avarice.
Master chuckled lightly. "That's not for me to decide," he replied. "But I can tell you this—our organization is constantly working on groundbreaking advancements. There's much more where this came from."
With that, he turned and exited the room, leaving behind a group of senior officials blinded by the tantalizing promise of technological power. The same scene played out across multiple bases.
The Next Day As the morning sun broke through the dense clouds, it painted the industrial zone of NYC in soft light. Men and women streamed out of their dormitories, chatting amicably as they headed for the cafeteria. Breakfast was warm, plentiful, and inviting—a rare luxury in a post-apocalyptic world.
NYC had grown eerily quiet. The once ever-present growls of zombies were gone, replaced by the hum of industry and the chatter of its residents. For those who lived there, it was as if the apocalypse had never happened. "Did you hear about that massive zombie horde up north?" a girl asked her group of companions.
"They say it was hundreds of millions strong!"
"Get out! That many? No way!" someone responded incredulously.
"It's true!" the girl insisted, puffing up with pride. "But it was wiped out completely."
"Who could pull that off?" another asked skeptically.
"Who else?" she replied with a confident grin. "Sir Zack, of course!"